Wow, it's like they've never seen a high point count before. It's not like she commutes to work with fangs and claws or anything!

She sits down on whatever nearby patch of ground looks least likely to stain her dress and tries to look harmless. 

Now she is hanging out with the remaining firewood and that naked plump dead guy over there.

She'll sit here for a while and hope the screaming person comes back.

She doesn't.

Running away from a scaly high-point-count magical girl after getting flung into outer space by a snake cryptid, if that's how the screamer got here, is not the most unreasonable thing ever.

Margaret hadn't had breakfast yet when the snake got her, and she's getting hungry and thirsty. It's time to undo enough of her mods to feed herself, and she might as well pick ones that make her a bit less frightening to unnerved baselines while she's at it. She starts by changing her eyes from silver, slit-pupiled, and reflective to normal brown ones. She'll miss her night vision, unless the four suns means she won't, and she can always go back and forth.

Next step is removing her horns, and their associated jewelry. It makes her head feel weirdly light and slightly off-balance, but she never had any nerves in them. Then she takes the scales off one hand and forearm, to drop some more points and make room for a plant there--and spends several minutes scratching it raw. She hasn't had skin for years and it feels so wrong and itchy, how did she go the whole first half of her life with skin everywhere and not go insane?

Eventually she manages to stop scratching, heal the damage, and take stock. Has she dropped enough points to safely add a plant? Maybe. Enough to be sure it's safe? No. And she's not going to risk turning into a cryptid heaven knows how many light-years from home. She grits her teeth and takes off her wings.

It feels a lot like you'd expect losing limbs to feel, apart from the lack of pain. Whole swathes of sensory input she was so used to she never noticed them anymore are gone. Her center of gravity is in the wrong place; if she hadn't been sitting on a rock she'd have had a good chance of falling over. It's weird and it's wrong and she almost wishes it would hurt so she'd be justified in feeling as awful about it as she does. Getting the wings in the first place wasn't nearly this unpleasant.

But the sooner she manages to eat, the sooner she can put them back, so she pulls herself together and sprouts a strawberry vine out of her arm, crowded with large red strawberries, and starts eating and replacing them. She keeps an eye and an ear on her surroundings as she does this, partly because she's not at all sure she's even pretty enough for danger sense with this asymmetrical mess, partly to distract her from the bizzareness that is a plant growing out of her skin.

There's a sound that way; might be a bird.

She stands up and looks over that way, braces herself to drop the plant and add the wings and book it in the air, but doesn't stop eating. The more calories and water she can eat the longer she can go before she has to do this again.

It's a bird. It flies from one scrubby little shrub to another and yells again.

Huh. She was a bio major in college, but that was a while ago and she focused on pathology and epidemiology; she tries to tell if it's an Earth bird or some kind of bird-like alien life form.

It is a bird, but it's not any specific bird she can recognize. It's brown and white and bluejay-sized with a long single feather bobbing on top of its head.

Huh. She'd expect an alien to look more alien than that; it probably flew into the mirrorsnake trying to fight its own reflection or something.

When she feels relatively hydrated from the strawberries, she gets rid of the strawberry vine and replaces it with a peanut plant, with a cluster of peanuts dangling off her wrist, and starts putting them into her pockets rather than shelling them one at a time.

Somebody's hiking in her general direction over the horizon.

Then she stops at one pocketful of peanuts and re-scales her arm and holds out a peanut in the newcomer's general direction, looking friendly.

Newcomer stops a ways off, squinting at her.

Smile and wave? She's still silver, but her silhouette is clearly human at least, she really shouldn't get mistaken for a cryptid. "Hi!"

He calls out something in a foreign language. He's not wearing anything; he's sunburned.

It would be of a piece with the luck she's been having today for the snake to have grabbed a foreign tourist. Or maybe there's some kind of hostile cryptid fashion trend and this guy was in China yesterday. "Hello! Do you speak English?"

He yells something else in a foreign language but steps closer, frowning at her.

She holds out the peanut and takes a slow step towards him.

He stops, looking at her suspiciously.

She points at herself and says "Margaret". Breaks the peanut-shell in half, eats one of the two nuts inside, holds out the other.

He steps a little closer.

It's like meeting a new neighbor's cat, except utterly weird. She keeps holding still. How far away from her is he, at this point?

Maybe fifty yards.

Cautious walking toward him, both hands visible, wondering why he seems so afraid. Is it because he doesn't have any clothes? She'd probably be reluctant to meet new people if she was stuck being naked.