59.3

As you move along the path, you see a woman in the signature resplendent attire of a shaper, running along the trail, skipping with her arms outstretched. Every few steps she leaps as high into the air as she can.

You call out to her, and she almost falls on her face. She straightens up, face flushed with embarrassment. “What is it?”

You ask her what she’s doing, and she glares at you. “I’m trying not to fall on my face. Isn't it obvious?”

Clear Dace with  to find out what she's really doing.