It didn’t take Del long to gather their meagre belongings. Misty waited patiently as he slung his pack over his shoulder and adjusted the makeshift quiver. With everything in place, they set off along the stream, Misty ranging ahead to scout the way. Her movements were fluid and precise, her ginger fur blending into the dappled light of the forest as she disappeared into the undergrowth.
The trek was slow and steady. Del estimated they’d been walking for about half an hour, though it was hard to be sure. Without a watch, tracking time was guesswork at best. He grimaced, remembering how his knack for misjudging time had earned him a reputation for burning dinners.
The faint nudge of a mental image drifted into his mind—a vague impression of a pig-like creature.
‘Well done, girl,’ he thought back to Misty, the connection between them sparking faintly. ‘Looks like you’ve found our dinner.’
Crouching low, Del moved carefully, keeping to the solid rock along the stream’s edges wherever possible. Each step was deliberate, his boots avoiding loose stones and twigs that might give him away. As he rounded a bend, the forest opened into a small glade, twenty to thirty yards across. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, painting the grassy clearing in warm, golden hues. Del’s gaze flicked across the area, noting the clusters of small flowers that dotted the glade.
Across the clearing, rooting at the base of a large tree, was the creature Misty had shown him. But it wasn’t a pig.
The animal was massive, its powerfully built shoulders rising a good five feet off the ground. A thick mat of coarse, dark hair flowed down its sloping back toward equally muscular haunches. Its head was broad, almost grotesque, with small, squinting eyes and a tapered snout that ended in two enormous tusks jutting from its lower jaw. The tusks gleamed faintly in the light, their sharp edges unmistakable.
Del’s breath caught as he watched the beast use its snout and tusks to dig through the roots of the tree. The raw strength in its movements was enough to make his stomach twist.
‘Oh dear god, its head,’ he thought, barely suppressing a shudder. ‘Those tusks... I really don’t want to play with those.’
He took a steadying breath and thought, ‘Identify.’
Forest Boar – Beast, male
Level: 1
Aggressive, territorial
Strengths: Strength, toughness
Weaknesses: Short-sighted
Attacks: Tusks, trample
Skill: Charge
Lore: Boars are highly aggressive beasts that startle easily and will attack if they feel threatened. Males are solitary except when breeding. Females move in family groups of mixed-age adult females and piglets.
The description was far from comforting. The boar’s strengths far outweighed its weaknesses, and its aggressive nature made it a significant threat. But Del’s options were limited. He needed food, and the boar, terrifying as it was, could provide enough meat to last for days.
Moving as quietly as possible, Del slipped his bow from his shoulder. He notched an arrow, his fingers trembling slightly as he drew the string back. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself to focus. His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steadying as he whispered a silent mantra.
‘Misty, distract it if you can—but be careful. Wait for my shot.’
He wasn’t entirely sure where she was, but the faint pulse of understanding that rippled through their link reassured him. He scanned the area quickly, searching for anything that might help—or hinder—his plan. The glade was mostly open, but the tall grass and flowers provided Misty with plenty of cover.
Taking aim, Del exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the beast’s broad shoulder. He held his breath, steadied his hand, and released.
The arrow flew true, striking the boar with a satisfying thunk as it embedded itself in the beast’s shoulder. For a moment, the clearing seemed to hold its breath. Then came the squeal—a piercing, guttural sound that echoed across the glade.
The boar’s head jerked up, its small eyes narrowing as it sniffed the air. It turned slowly, its snout flaring as it zeroed in on the source of the attack.
Del’s stomach dropped as the beast’s gaze locked onto him.
Then, it charged.
The ground shook beneath Del’s feet as the boar thundered toward him, its head lowered, those wicked tusks gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Every instinct screamed at him to move, but his body felt leaden, frozen for a split second as the sheer size and speed of the beast bore down on him.
At the last possible moment, he threw himself to the side, rolling awkwardly over the rocky ground. His bow clattered from his hand as he tossed it aside to hopefully keep it safe. The boar’s bulk tore past him, the rush of air carrying the heavy stench of musk and sweat. Del scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest.
The boar skidded to a halt, its hooves digging into the soft earth and sending clods of dirt flying. It twisted sharply, more agile than he expected, and fixed its beady, furious eyes on him again. The beast snorted, its breath steaming in the cool air, before charging once more.
Del drew the pilfered sword, gripping it tightly as he crouched. His muscles ached, every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, but there was no escape. The boar was too fast, its movements too relentless.
‘If those tusks hit me, I’m dead,’ he thought grimly, his mind racing for a strategy.
As the boar barreled toward him, Del darted to the side, slashing downward with the blade as it passed. The sword struck the creature’s thick hide but glanced off, barely leaving a mark. Before he could react, the boar twisted its head, its tusk catching him in the side with brutal force.
Pain exploded in his ribs as he was thrown to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs in a harsh gasp. Del’s vision blurred as he hit the rocky earth hard, his sword slipping from his grasp.
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The boar let out an enraged squeal, skidding to a stop a few feet away. Del struggled to rise, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision cleared just in time to see Misty streak out of the undergrowth, leaping onto the boar’s broad back.
She clung to the beast with her claws, raking its side with feral precision. The boar screamed again, thrashing wildly to dislodge her. Its powerful muscles rippled as it bucked, and with one violent shake, Misty was flung off. She twisted midair, landing with a yowl and tumbling into the tall grass.
Del barely had time to register her fall before the boar turned on him again. Its charge was relentless, the ground trembling under its hooves. He reached frantically for his sword, fingers closing around the hilt just as the beast loomed over him.
The boar’s massive foot stomped down on his thigh, pinning him in place. White-hot pain lanced through his leg, ripping a strangled cry from his throat. Its tiny, malevolent eyes locked onto his, its snout curling as it prepared to drive its tusks into his unprotected chest.
‘This is it,’ he thought, panic surging through him. ‘I’m dead.’
In pure desperation, Del thrust upward with the sword, putting all his strength behind the move. The blade pierced the boar’s throat, sinking deep with a sickening squelch. The beast froze, its squeal turning into a choked gurgle as blood sprayed across Del’s arm and chest.
The boar staggered, its massive frame trembling as it tried to stay upright. Del pushed harder, the sword driving upward into its brain. With a final, pitiful groan, the boar collapsed, its full weight crashing down on him.
Del gasped as the air was forced from his lungs, his ribs flaring with pain. The beast’s body was heavy, the thick mat of its hair coarse and damp against his skin. Summoning what strength he had left, Del shoved and wriggled, finally managing to crawl out from under the boar’s corpse.
His thigh throbbed, the pain sharp and unrelenting. He collapsed onto his back, tears stinging his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Shit,” he muttered hoarsely. “That hurts.” Turning his head, he called out weakly, “Misty? You alright, girl?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her slinking cautiously toward the dead boar. Her golden eyes gleamed as she sniffed the body, letting out a low, disapproving growl before stepping away.
“Good girl,” he murmured, relief flooding him as he saw her uninjured.
Del forced himself to sit up, wincing as he examined his injured thigh. Blood stained his leather breeches, but as he carefully eased them down, he saw that the skin was only broken in a few places. Bruising was already spreading, deep and dark, but there was no major bleeding.
“Got off lightly,” he muttered to himself.
Hobbling to the stream, Del found a pair of small, flat rocks. He crushed a few leaves of Feldspar he had collected earlier, mixing them with water until they formed a thick paste. The process was clumsy and awkward, but he managed. Slathering the paste onto his thigh, he sighed as a warm, soothing sensation spread through the injury, dulling the pain.
Checking under his jerkin he found the same bruising running down his side and deep breaths caused a sharp pain to radiate from the site of impact. With a wince, he smoothed more of the paste there.
For a moment, he simply sat by the stream, staring at the dead boar. The fight had been far too close for comfort. His heart still pounded, the adrenaline coursing through him making his hands tremble.
‘Still managed to stick it with that arrow, though, Del,’ he thought, a faint grin tugging at his lips. ‘Not too bad at all for an amateur.’
A quiet beeping sound interrupted his thoughts. Notifications. He blinked, realising he hadn’t even noticed them during the fight.
[Your sneak ability has slightly improved.]
[Forest boar hits you for 3 points of damage. Agility compromised.]
[You have killed Forest boar. Experience earned.]
[Herbalism has improved slightly.]
[You have progressed on your primary Cuvat: Survive. Points added.]
The last message brought a genuine smile to his face.
“Well, Del,” he muttered, chuckling softly. “Looks like we’re doing something right.”
He pushed himself to his feet, limping toward the boar. “Now,” he said to Misty, who watched him with mild disinterest, “let’s deal with this pig and figure out supper.”
Del tore a some strips of cloth from the hem of his shirt, wincing slightly as he wrapped it snugly around his injured thigh and strapped his chest. The makeshift bandage would have to do for now. Once secured, he pulled up his breeches and limped toward the boar. On the way, he made a quick detour to retrieve his bow, relieved to find it undamaged. Slinging it over his shoulder, he turned back to the mess waiting for him.
Stripping off his jerkin and bloodied shirt, Del set them aside, out of the way, and unsheathed the skinning knife from his belt. The blade gleamed faintly in the late afternoon light, sharp but unfamiliar in his hands.
‘How the hell do I even start this?’ he thought, staring at the boar’s massive form. He couldn’t help but mutter aloud, “This was so much easier when all I had to do was pick it up from the supermarket meat counter.”
The boar’s sheer size was daunting. Its thick, bristled hide looked like it could repel cannon fire, and the sharp tang of blood hanging in the air only made the task seem more overwhelming. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Del knelt beside the beast, trying to remember anything useful from survival shows he’d half-watched over the years.
“Right, Del,” he muttered to himself, gripping the knife tightly. “Just remember... slow and steady.”
With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his top and made his first tentative cut near the belly, the blade biting into the tough hide. The resistance surprised him, the coarse texture far thicker and denser than he’d imagined. Gritting his teeth, he worked the knife underneath the hide, sawing awkwardly to get a strip started.
The effort was slow and clumsy, each motion requiring more force than he expected. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the sticky blood on his hands as he pulled the hide back inch by inch. The smell hit him like a punch, far more intense and visceral than he’d anticipated—a mix of musk, iron, and raw animal. Del gagged, turning his head away briefly, but forced himself to push through.
Misty sat a short distance away, her golden eyes fixed on him. She flicked her tail lazily, her expression one of faint disdain. If Del didn’t know better, he’d have sworn she was silently judging him.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “Amateur hour. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Misty, apparently satisfied she’d made her point, returned to grooming her paws, leaving him to muddle through on his own.
Del continued cutting, working the meat free from the bone as best he could. The process was messy and exhausting, his arms aching from the effort of sawing through sinew and muscle. The blade slipped more than once, nicking his fingers and forcing him to pause to wipe away the blood.
By the time he managed to carve off several manageable chunks of meat, his hands were sticky and his back screamed in protest from kneeling on the hard ground. He sat back with a groan, surveying his handiwork. The results were far from professional—ragged cuts and uneven pieces—but it was enough for a few meals.
“Guess it’ll do, eh, Misty?” he said, holding up one of the chunks of meat for her inspection.
The cat padded over, sniffing at the offering with mild interest before flicking her tail and walking away. Her unimpressed demeanour earned a weak laugh from Del, who shook his head.
“Fussy little thing, aren’t you?” he said with a grin. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he gathered the meat into a rough bundle and wiped his knife clean on the grass. “Alright, time to cook, girl. Let’s see if you’re still so picky with a hunk of bacon sizzling in front of you.”
Misty glanced back at him briefly, her tail curling in what might have been amusement before she trotted ahead toward the stream. Del followed, the ache in his thigh and the sticky sensation of blood and sweat a constant reminder of how far he’d come—and how far he still had to go.
As he approached the stream, the promise of food and a small fire lightened his mood. For the first time since the fight, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. He’d survived. It hadn’t been pretty, but he was still standing. And for now, that was enough.