Wait out the storm

The rain falls for a while as you practice with your senses. Approaching scents and sounds draw your attention. Metallic boxes on circles of black move towards the area. Several break off and travel between the trees towards your point of arrival. Bipedal creatures follow behind. They look pale and weak, as if someone had boiled a smaller version of whatever you are. They're also incredibly familiar.

You excitedly want to call out, but you have no idea what language they speak. And you figure if they look small and weak to you, you must look large and frightening to them. The thought of withdrawing irritates you, but perhaps it would be wisest?