The satisfying resistance of an impact and the sudden tearing of dry skin. Karaulish would feel and hear these things, but he wouldn't see blood from the orc just yet. As he lunged forward screaming and jabbed his spear at Olga that green right arm had raised and done a swift clockwise semicircle at the elbow like a mouse trap being sprung, the railroad spike attached to the outside of her wrist the contact point between bracer and spear point as Karaulish's weapon was pushed a mere eight inches to the side - much less than she expected given Karaulish was far stronger than he looked - missing Olga's neck and instead catching the wolf hide's collar, causing its strap to rip and the garment to be pushed behind Olga stuck on the tip of the spear, the haft of the weapon against the top of Olga's right shoulder. 

If during - or, much more likely, before - Karaulish's opening attack he decided he was going to swiftly pull back the spear and either retreat or go for another strike he'd find himself unable, as Olga's right hand was now visibly clamped around his spear, her hand simply having turned and closed after she'd pushed the jab to her right a little bit - assuming she was successful in this, of course.

If this reaction went as Olga intended Karaulish would have to either abandon that spear to be able to get away or find a way to get it out of Olga's grip [i]right now,[/i] because she hadn't stopped walking. Her left arm during all this had also casually raised, the hand slowly closing into a fist. If she was able she'd be stepping right up into punching range, her lead foot coming down between where his feet were planted. The orc was only slightly taller and heavier than Karaulish, but she was staring down at him with a look somehow reminiscent of a tsunami about to crash over an unknowing crab scuttling across a long-evacuated beach.