I leaned backwards as the boar pushed forwards, snuffling up at me. “Uh, nice to meet you, too?”

The boar snorted and moved back, cocking its head in confusion.

I frowned and checked my mind, but there was no unnatural affect making this animal more emotive than it should be like the spectral shaman. It was simply more expressive than a beast had any right to be.

“Look, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but I really have to get…”

“...going.” I eyed the boar’s impressive bulk, idly noting that it technically wasn’t a boar at all.

But the gender was immaterial, that wouldn’t make the sow any less capable of pushing through resistance that would bowl me aside. It was certainly impressive to see this kind of tusks on a sow, but she wasn’t exactly a normal pig, was she?

I stepped forward and went up on the tips of my toes to give the sow a nice scratching along the bridge of her snout. Her nose wrinkled in pleasure as I went back and forth over the rough and uneven surface.

I stepped up on the sow’s lower tusk to lift myself up and get a better angle. She grunted, and I tensed, but as I kept up the scratches and she simply shifted to accept my weight. I wasn’t heavy enough to really bother her I suppose.

I hit a bump in my scratching and I ran my claws along it, provoking a deep rumble of satisfaction from the sow. I looked over and I paused as I saw the thick ridges of scar tissue criss-crossing her snout.

The pig grunted.

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was a dumb idea…

“Would you carry me over there?”

The sow oinked curiously.

“Over there.” I pointed. “By the pillar-tree?”

The pig jerked its head over towards the tree and oinked again. Are you sure about this?

“Yes, that tree!”

The pig just stood there for a second, and I was afraid I’d gone crazy talking to animals, but then it turned with an exasperated huff and plodded off towards the pillar-tree.

This pig was too damn smart, but then again calling it a pig at all might be pushing things. I’d already stayed with one tribe of wereboars and met a full-on shapeshifter, and this beast was damn near worshipped, so who knows how much higher it was than even that ridiculous standard. Comparing this beast to its mundane cousins was hardly appropriate, and perhaps downright blasphemous. I’d just be happy to be out of this place and back to where I could trust the animals.

I could trust them to try and eat me, but trust was trust.

My unorthodox pig transport halted barely after it started, just barely within sight of the hanging vines that trailed down into the rushing current. We were close, close enough for the spray rising up off the swine’s leg to wet my face.

Just not quite close enough to reach out and grab the vines that would carry me to the surface.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let me up!”

The swine snorted and shook its head. It moved with a care unbecoming of such a massive creature, but even jerking less than a foot from side to side sent my footing to rebeling from out beneath me.

I swore and snatched at its bristles, but my shock aside, staying standing wasn’t that hard. The tusk could lurch beneath me all it wanted, it would have to try a lot harder than that to upset my balance.

But that wasn’t what put the chill in my bones. Because standing right up there staring the swine in its eyes suddenly drove home the fact that I was inches away from several tons of muscle, that I’d willingly put my fate in their hands.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Tusks. Whichever.

I swallowed and eyed the waters below me, staying very, very still as I did so. I was farther out than I’d been before, but that didn’t mean I could risk the waters if I had too. Diving would be the quickest way to break line of sight, and I’d be better able to manage than if I’d been thrown.

The sow grunted softly in disappointment.

I stared into its wide eyes and saw something I didn’t expect.

Fear. Not the panic of suffering or the frenzy of battle but simple… concern.

I froze, shocked. That was not what I had expected to see. The beast glanced upwards and whined, the message clear.

This way lay danger. Maybe even death.

I reached out and patted the sow just above her brow. “I know.”

The sow oinked in confusion and delicately tilted her head in another direction, snorting encouragingly.

I squinted. What was off over there… ah. I still wasn’t the best at jungle navigation, but now that the sow suggested it… wasn’t that roughly the direction of the Lifefather camp?

This pig had one hell of a sense of direction if she could really tell where they were from all the way over here. Or more likely she had some magic that let her pick out her younger relatives from all the other life in the jungle.

The sow eyed me hopefully, but her eyes drooped in disappointment when I shook my head. “That isn’t my path. I have to be free. I wasn’t born down here, so I can actually leave. I refuse to be bound by forgotten gods.”

I… wasn’t sure how much of that she was capable of understanding, but I felt the obligation to try.

The sow trod a few plodding steps further and I felt the draping vines brush against my face. I shot out one hand, winding it through the vines and twisting them about it to secure my hold should she back out from under me.

I looked down to meet the eyes of the sow. “Well, this is goodbye. I appreciate the help.”

I gave an awkward half wave with one hand, feeling the whole production was inadequate somehow. Some faint echo of the tribesgoblins reverence for this creature, but I shook it off and turned to face the climb ahead.

I pulled myself up with one arm, vines slowly tightening as my weight shifted off the tusk. The sow gradually angled her face upwards to support me for as long as possible, but eventually I lifted off and was hanging from the vines alone.

I gave the sow spirit one last nod and turned to focus on the climb ahead, putting her whines behind me.

I reached up hand over hand, dragging myself up by my handful of bunched vines one foot at a time. The spear got in the way of course, but the haft wasn’t so think that I couldn’t get a good grip on the vines even around it.

Of course, spending so much time overthinking how I’d work around my more bulky weapon did little more than ensure that I was nice and surprised when the vines started swaying from side to side in my hands.

I fell to my most primal instincts, freezing as my eyes and ears snapped upwards before my conscious mind overruled them and I added the minor motion of swapping my grip and freeing my spear hand.

I held the pose for all of a second before I realized my error and let out the breath I’d only just started holding. There was no predator creeping from above, the free hanging vines were simply shifting with my own movements.

I wasn’t used to climbing without anything solid. The warrens back home had plenty of handholds. The handholds might creak or even snap, but they would never sway.

I rectified my earlier mistake, shimmying up the vines inch by inch with support from all four limbs. The wide swing of the vines faded out to a slight sway, near indistinguishable from that caused by a slight breeze. Much better, I would hate to announce my arrival.

As I climbed the bundled handful of vines I was climbing began to pull at the edges of my fingers. I may have grasped them together to get enough of them to support my weight, but each sprung from a different place and as I neared their origin I had to pull them at sharper and sharper angles to keep them all in the same place.

An obstacle, but I was already pretty close…

I swung my legs out and in, moving in rhythm with the vines to swing further with each repetition. I let the height build before releasing at the apex of my swing, giving a final yank on my vines for an extra boost.

I sailed upward through the open air for a precious moment, momentum bleeding out as my reaching hand fell a good foot short.

Of course, I had more than a hand. My spear darted up, moving with a lazy grace as it slipped between the fork of two branches. With a simple twist of my wrist I put the crossguard perpendicular to the fork, preventing it from slipping back down as it had come.

The last of my momentum gone, gravity tugged back at me, but I smoothly replaced my upwards inertia with my grip on the spear haft. Without time to build up downwards force the branch bore my weight without lurching impact or noisy shaking. It dipped and bent gently, too gently to register as the movement of an animal, if the stars were right.

I pulled myself up my spear and grabbed the branch, getting both feet under me. The branch was bent low enough that I had to lean forward quite a bit to maintain a level foothold, but not enough that I couldn’t reach around the bottom and twist my spear out of where I’d stuck it with my other hand stretched out to the side as a counter balance.

With my awkward stance corrected I put my left hand down on the branch for a third contact point. I looked up through the haze, taking in new sights invisible from ground level. Great branches grew from the great pillar-tree, bigger than the trunks of lesser plants, each squat and knobbly at the base to withstand the falling water. As they grew they spread out, thinning as they went and draping thin tendrils downward like a willow.

The base of each branch could support a dozen of me easily, but they were few and far between. I’d need to rely on the thinner extensions to carry me upwards, and those were hardly as reliable. There was more than one reason I’d taken such care not to land too heavily on this branch after all. It made my movements less blatant of course, but I was standing on a surface scarcely as wide as my own wrist. It held me fine, but sudden motion might well snap it.

I started moving forward, still bent over with one hand forward in a half walk half climb. No sense wasting effort on showing off my tightrope balancing skills, it was tricky enough to keep my feet on track already. Goblin feet just weren’t meant for walking on round shit and I couldn’t get a grip with more than a few of my claws at once.

It was enough to make me jealous of monkeys and their stupid hand-feet. Not something I’d ever thought I’d say, but life took you strange places.

I stopped my climb-walk as I neared the halfway mark towards the trunk. The branch was far thicker here, easily enough to support my weight. It was time to turn my gaze upwards once more.

Exploiting the drooping foliage here had worked for me before and it worked for me again. Soon I was making steady progress upward, if slower than I might have hoped. Still, even the quick mental math I could do on the move was enough to confirm that I was well within the maximum limits to get out before my food ran out.

I was thankful for the conservative nature of my estimations. A childhood in the warrens had taught me very well what a starsdamn pain climbing could be. It took nearly an hour just to rise above the mists.

I slowed as I cleared the haze and looked out over the expanse around.