Lark ran, her good arm pumping while the other bled and flopped uselessly at her side, she heard the thunder of hooves approaching and knew she was caught. Throwing back her head, she drank in the intoxicating scent of the wildflowers, the sparkling blue sky and clouds of fluffy sheep wool. This world was more beautiful and terrible than anything she could ever have imagined, and at every turn, she seemed to flirt with mutilation and death.

The hooves caught her.

“Artemis,” Lark choked out the sound of her name as the blue roan mare trotted around her and nickered a gentle greeting.

“I pulled the dart and gave her a healing potion. The Shaman was a low level; although the poisoned dart did some damage, she will have no permanent injury and should completely recover by the morning. We should make camp when we can and talk about tomorrow, and I can hunt some boar if we feel like it. I saw some tracks, which is probably what the Goblins were also doing out this way.”

“You left me!” Lark heard her voice as if it were a mile away as the centaur stood beside her, not meeting eye contact and conversing as though he was asking what she would like for dinner.

“You left me!” Lark repeated. “If you don’t care if I live or die, then why make me follow you at all? Why are you being such a donkey’s ass?

“Donkeys ass?” Captain Fallston repeated. “Did you seriously just say that to me”?

“Well, you’re a horse…I dunno, it seemed like it would be rude..” She trailed off, unsure where she was going with this. Clearly, the Captain was immune to her insults.

Fallston gave a very horsey snort and swished his tail as he swatted away a fly attempting to land on his blood-splattered hocks.

“You left your staff.” It was a simple statement, but Lark felt it was full of meaning that she couldn’t even begin to unpack.

Captain Fallston casually tossed the mage staff to the young woman, but she didn’t catch it. One arm appeared to be wounded as she gripped at her shoulder with white knuckles and bent awkwardly to the ground. He didn’t understand this situation at all. The young mage continued to deny all magical use and discarded her staff, even after performing a low-level levitation spell.

“Thank you,” she sniffled but lifted her good shoulder as she squared off with her mares saddle.

“We’ll camp just ahead by that cluster of trees, there’s a small brook for your horse to drink from.” The girl nodded, pale and tight lipped as she pulled herself into the saddle with her one good arm.

“Here,” Fallston handed her a vial. “Just pour it on. That’s it, a little more.”

Lark watched in astonishment as her wounded shoulder began to heal, the blood clotting and the layers of skin stitching themselves back together. Feeling like she was witnessing a miracle in biblical proportions, Lark stared as the deep, penetrating wound closed and a granulation formed and turned rapidly into pink and itchy skin. When it was done, she felt a mild soreness and perhaps a little tender to the touch as her fingers poked and prodded the area in experimental fascination.

The centaur watched the young woman, feeling curious and disturbed in equal measure. She was a mystery, and that bothered the Captain.

Fallston led the way to the stand of trees with the brook running through the middle. He saw more evidence that the goblins had also been in this area and had established a crude camp with a fire pit in the middle that appeared abandoned. His Danger Sense did not alert him to any trouble, and he knew he had slain all the goblins. That was how things worked out on the plains because once the fighting commenced, neither side would give up until the other was annihilated.

“We’ll use this area. Do you know any perimeter spells? Even a low-level alarm spell would be useful.”

“No.” The answer was curt, and he noticed she did not care to elaborate and avoided looking at the staff.

“That is fine. I have an endurance skill I can use to stay awake and keep watch.”

“Ok.”

Fallston looked at the female. She was sitting on the ground with her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. He noticed streaks down her dirty cheeks as she looked anywhere but at him or the staff.

“Come.” He said as gently as he could. “We will hunt some boar and continue our talk when we get back.”

Lark mounted, dreading what lay ahead she once again set off with the crazy centaur. She tried to suppress her thoughts as they swirled around like a tornado about to touch down in her brain. How was it possible that she had performed magic? Had she? Perhaps the staff had some magical barrier thingy that prevented it from getting damaged, like when that horsey mutant had thrown it in the fire. She petted Artie’s neck as the horse broke into a smooth canter, following the centaur as he appeared to run through the fields with careless abandon. How did he know where he was going? Could the horse half sense other livestock like pigs? This made her laugh, a light musical note that made the Captain turn back as she looked at him for a split second, grinning foolishly before abruptly turning her gaze to the foothills and resuming a look of neutrality.

They rode in silence. The only sound was of hooves over a thick carpet of grass and birds chirping as the afternoon changed to evening and the air took on a crisper smell of earth and rain.

“Stop here. I’m going to scout over that hill. There’s a small valley with trees and a stream, I am capable of covering my smell and hiding my footfall, so if the boars are in there, I will be able to flush them out.”

Lark watched as he cantered away, relieved to see the back of him and knowing she had to get away. The brook from the camp had turned into a small stream as they rode through the plains. The stream had stayed relatively on their left, so all she had to do was turn around and follow it. Lark knew the city Cersa had spoken of was close to the mountains. If she followed the stream, hopefully, it would go into the foothills, and she would come to the road that led to the city by the mountains. Yes! She had a plan.

Snort, snort, snort!

What was that? Lark thought she could hear snorting in the distance; could it be the boars? Uncertainly, Lark turned Artemis toward the direction of the sound, straining to distinguish between the noise of chirping birds, wind as it fanned its way through the tall grass and the occasional stomping and champing of the mare.

The wind picked up, whipping tendrils of pale hair about her face. Then it began. At first, it was a low rumble, and the snorting that had been so faint became unmistakable. The boars came, cresting a hill about eight hundred meters away.

“Holy, pigs!” Lark shrieked! These boars were immense creatures, twice the size of the largest she had ever seen. Leading the charge was a massive boar with huge tusks and long ears like a donkey. The animal had to be the size of a minivan as it raced toward Lark, a stampede of colossal mass of snorting animals following it.

The mare stood her ground, fearless and unmoving. When Lark gave a single command, she was off like an arrow, running in the direction of the valley.

“Run!” Lark didn’t need another second to think. She was outnumbered and outmatched, and the only modicum of her survival lay with Captain Fallston.

Together, Lark and Artemis plunged into the valley, racing for the trees.

“Captain!”

Plunging deeper and deeper into the valley, the rocks became large and sharp, the bushes wild and thorny. The mare tried desperately to find a safe passage down the steep banks with sharp stones, but her breakneck speed was impossible to maintain.

Lark could feel the monstrous boar, Its hot breath and enraged squeals filled the air. Seconds before the impact, time seemed to stop. Artemis’s nostrils flared, and her coat slick with lather from the chase gave a final whinny to her master as though she knew she would not get away.

When the impact came, the rider was thrown into the air while the horse stayed impaled on the tusks, screaming the final agonies of death as the boar disembowelled her. Lark sailed through the air, landing with a splash into the rushing river and sinking down, down, down as the water filled her lungs as she screamed.