The river was not deep, and any keen observer would have described it as a stream that had become swollen by the recent fall of rain. The tumultuous surface was moved by the blowing wind and the splash of a young woman as her body sailed through the air, thrown by a hog of stupendous proportions.

Lark furiously kicked her legs and threw off the backpack, weighing her down. She was a good swimmer and breached the surface gasping for air. Her adrenaline surged, and she threw herself into making her way across the light current to the other side of the bank. She didn’t remember crawling up the bank but found herself sitting on a large boulder, inhaling deeply and preparing to run.

The boar was eating Artemis. The horse lay dead, her belly gaping and entrails sliding down the muddy bank. Lark stared at the monstrous beast, its face covered with gore. At least the size of the hippopotamus she had seen at the Longleat zoo, she estimated it would weigh between two to three thousand pounds. This boar was the same but different from those she was familiar with. It was unmistakable a wild pig, but the tusks were much larger and sharper, with two extra protruding like that of a rhino. The boar was a dark brown colour, nearly black, but each tusk was a gleaming scarlet, the longest of which must have been three feet or more.

The wind blew, and the beast sensed that wild fragrance in the air and stopped, its meal momentarily forgotten. In reality, the boar was an enormous sow, although Lark had not had a chance to look between its legs while she was tossed and her mount gored. The sow was the matriarch, and as her nostrils drew in the smell that had long been forgotten, her enormous figure cast long shadows across the bank like a great hulking giant. Her ears twitched, and snout snorted as the hog surveyed the figure that had caused a stampede of confusion.

The immense female was satiated by the carcass of the horse, not a common prey animal, but she would eat anything that she and her sounder could bring down. She had smelled blood and prey mixed with the scent of wildness and the matriarch, both oldest and wisest of her species in this land, recognized her for what she was.

Lark grasped the staff, desperately hoping she could figure out how to levitate the Godzilla of Pigs. “Oh, no, oh, no. It's coming!”

The gigantic sow was walking across the stream, the water high on her back. She easily held her snout above the water like a bloody snorkel as the red-tinged water sprayed from her nostrils.

Lark rose from her position against the rocks. The boar beast had outpaced her horse amongst the rocks, so she knew running was futile.

“Ummm, Wingaaaardium…”Her voice shook, and she could taste bile. The beast came up to her, its eyes at the same level as hers and blew in her face the way Artemis had when greeting her. This time the effect was not so pleasant as pig musk, and ichor assailed her.

The hog continued its gaze and snuffled her head, leaving strands of gunk and snot to drip down her hair and neck.

“Hello, your piginess. I am Lark. I’m so sorry to disturb you or be in your lands.”

Lark felt ridiculous talking to the beast, but she couldn’t help feeling it was more curious now than aggressive. Could it understand her?

The Susignus could not understand, but the sow was older than these trees and drank from the stream when it was born. She knew the wild blood before her and welcomed it home.

Fallston was in a mood, a good mood! He casually placed the small boar he had shot in a canvas sack that he slung onto his back. The girl had been a problem that had affected his mood for several days now, but this was easily solved by galloping and hunting. The Centaur was sure the fresh kill and strong mead would loosen the mage's tongue, and he could learn her secrets once and for all, and if this failed, he would have a pleasant night under the stars and drop her useless hide off at the road tomorrow. Yes, this was a good plan.

Fallston returned to the spot where he had left Lark and noticed an immediate lack of the annoying little mage.

“Where is that silly human,” he grumbled.

Using his Advanced Tracking skills, The Captian quickly located her horses tracks that lead toward the valley. He trotted, musing of the different hog spits he should already be constructing while the human, pretty for her kind, poured the honeyed liquid into the horn cups.

The horses' trail wound lazily as the mount wandered through the grass, searching for the lushest sprigs of new growth.

And then the markings changed…

The strides became longer, and the winding pattern became hoof fall that was as straight as an arrow toward the steep slopes of the valley.

It became apparent as he galloped through the sloping grass that dangerous beasts were tracking Lark.

The Susignus used to be a predominant species in the land many years ago, now hunted to near extinction and slow to mature and reproduce, Fallston had only had limited encounters with this mighty beast. Worthy of a gold rank team, the Captain knew Lark would soon be dead if he did not intervene.

The slopes were steep and rough, strewn with large boulders with no obvious path through. Fallston activated ‘Fleet Foot,’ and continued plunging into the valley, with the wind whistling at his back.

The terrain compromised his speed. Even with the skills, he employed, the slope was muddy and the stones loose. The Centaur in him feared breaking a leg. Although he still had potions left, a bad break could be a devastating injury if it was not properly set before the potion was consumed.

The rocks eventually gave way to flatter embankments by the river, and the scene before him made him stop, with bow drawn and danger sense ringing in his ears.

The mare, that he had given Lark to ride had been torn apart, the entrails stretching far across the rocky beach with pools of congealed blood attracting flying insects to the stinking, eviscerated body.

The Captain blanched. He was used to death in all its ugly forms, but Lark was his charge, and he had been tasked with bringing her safely to the road. This was not a kind end. It was pain and suffering, and… wait, was that snorting?

Captain Fallston looked across the river, the fading sunlight making him activate Far Sight and Moon Eye and what the Centaur saw took his breath away.

In the fading light, the young woman stood, blood caked down the left side of her torso and her golden hair muddy in wild disarray around her shoulders. In front of her, a Susignus of gargantuan proportion, but the beast was on its knees.

Bowing? Could it do that?

“What, in all of Eddas is going on?” Fallston whispered.

He notched an arrow, moving silently to the rivers edge, before taking aim and firing.

The beast roared! It lunged at Lark and grasped it in its immense and cavernous jaws.

The Captain emitted a deep and reverberating ululation like a horn sounding the way to battle. He charged through the water, the water spraying off his powerful legs as they stretched, gaining speed with every stride.

“That mage is mine.”

Gritting his teeth, he loosed. Iron arrows flew, making the beast scream and change course towards a thick cluster of trees. He pulled his bull arrow, caressing the expensive ammunition for a second before once again notching the arrow, driving back and releasing. The bull arrow whistled through the air and slammed into the boar beast, piercing its thick hide and sending out shockwaves of damage and pain as a body was thrown to the ground.

She screamed! The running sow had grasped Lark gently like a mother holding a kitten and flipped her up to ride on her snout as she trampled through the valley. Lark, astride the beast, couldn’t see past her enormous bulk to be aware of what they were running from but as she held on to the horn, she prayed whatever it was would be too slow.

Suddenly, the beast tripped and sent her sprawling into the damp mud. The sow raised its bulk and placed herself defensively in front of Lark and the aggressor.

“Captain?”

Lark whispered, stepping around the animal's frame and placing her hand reassuringly on her quivering snout.

“Lark? You’re alive! How is this possible?”

Fallston stood in wonderment as the young woman stretched out her arm and stroked the massive head and tusks of the creature that could rip her apart in seconds, but was strangely, as docile as a new foal under her touch. Then his eyes fell to the staff that was grasped tightly in her right hand.

“Lark,” he murmured, his eyes not leaving hers, “are you a Druid?”

His answer came in a whisper that carried with it all of her uncertainty and fear.

“I don’t know.”