Before I tell you what I would do, I'll first explain the situation.
I'm on an adventure in a dark, remote forest out west. I am alone, possibly I have gone out to find myself, who knows.
After about an hour of walking through the woods, I see animal track prints in the mud. As I am curious, and have an admiration for wildlife, I follow these bizarre tracks. For hours. After a long while of trekking through the moist soil to find a possible abundance of wild animals, I see a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye.
Fractions of a second later, I get nailed the head with a stone. Hard. Hours later, I wake up from the mild coma caused from the blunt force trauma. I then feel my head, to make sure there is no open wound caused by the hit. There wasn't, but where the fuck did all my hair go?
A bizarre, aging man then appears from behind an rather large old-growth tree. He looks at me, with a slight smile on his face. I ask him, furiously, "What the fuck did you do to me?" The man pauses, then says, looking down at the ground shamefully "At night, I become cold, therefore I am making a blanket out of hair." It is beyond me why this greatly confused man could not have just used animal hair, or even leaves from the cedar trees above.
However, at this point, I am in no mood, or situation to argue. I then proceed to ask the man, curiously, as the curious person I am, what his strategy is to attract all these people this far into the overgrown forest. He then went into an in-depth explanation, of how he first catches wild animals of which inhabit the area, and makes their paws into shoes. The shoes, as made from the feet of these poor animals, make prints into the soil identical to those of the given animal. The man walks into the woods for hours on end, creating animal tracks far into the relatively undiscovered forest. He says, that this attracts curious animal lovers, like myself, until the band of animal footprints simply end.
Was I the curious animal lover, or simply a stupid fuck? Anyways, I asked calmed, as the twisted old man was still gripping the rock what he did with the footless animals. He tells me "3 miles North, follow the blood." I got the fuck out of there and started to head North.
What would I do to earn myself some pants?
First, I would stay with the poor critters for days to heal their wounds, and then give them every single pair of Dunks I own.
Last, on my way out of the woods I would put the fucker who took my hair, and the feet of my new friends, to rest for good, and then make some shoes out of him for the strenuous walk out since I gave mine to my new buddies.