A platoon of soldiers

You peek just barely over the ridge to see who or what is making that commotion. The first thing you notice is the glint of sunlight reflecting off of metal helmets temporarily blinding you. When your eyes eventually adjust, you see a squad of eight soldiers in full equipment and matching uniforms, each with a spear held up high at their sides. They are making quick time through the forest with the lead soldier hacking away at the undergrowth with a machete. Taking up the rear is a teenager with an oversized pack on his back, no doubt some squire in charge of carrying supplies for the men. Finally, behind him is a tall woman in an ornate, pristine uniform. Her jacket and slacks are form-fitting and pristinely pressed, with a gold stripe down her arms and the sides of her legs no doubt signifying her rank in some way. Her left hand rests on the handle of a sheathed saber which bounces at her hip with each step.

You find yourself transfixed on her. Her grace and commanding presence are everything you hope to see in yourself. You pull yourself up higher to get a better view of her but are so enamored with the officer you don't notice the lead soldier getting closer to you until he's only a few paces away. If you're going to steer clear of them, it has to be now - though they might also be willing to help you out if you take the chance calling out to them.