>>254
You carefully unroll Straw-Mat-tan and stretch yourself out, watching the clouds for a while.

Stamina restored.

Still lying down, you take a look at the mysterious package. It is addressed to "Frank". The rest of the address has been smudged somehow so that you can't make it out. There is no return address.

Tampering with mail is a crime, but then, so is murder. You aren't sure where doing bizarre elf-assisted Kirby impersonations falls into all that, but you shrug and open Frank's package.

Inside, you find a little teddy bear with suction cup paws and a note written in large, loopy handwriting:
"Hey bro -- thought you might enjoy this."

>>255
"Thank you, Straw-Mat-tan!" you say gratefully as you rise and roll the mat back up. She remains as cold and unresponsive as ever.

>>256
You don't remember anyone by those names, but you get a notion in your head that they might somehow be important or relevant. Perhaps your memory is coming back. Or perhaps you are under the influence of an insane clown. It's hard to tell.

At any rate, assessing your situation, you could journey south, east, or west, or you might consider some other method to ascertain these people's whereabouts before you set off.

>>257
You wonder now why it never occurred to you to check. Reaching down, you try to unfasten the piece of armor covering your crotch. It seems to be some sort of metal-plated codpiece adorned with a row of rather unfriendly-looking spikes.

After some struggling, you find that it is stuck fast.

Does it really matter, though? Does not the philosophy of the times say that you are whatever you think you are, and body parts are irrelevant?