Pitt kept walking the clear trail of destruction showing him the monster kept trying to get up the wall to the hills above instead of walking around. He wondered how many times it had cracked against the mountain before reconsidering and heading around.

There was nothing he could do about it until he matched strengths. He figured it was ripping up farms ahead of him just by its straight ahead nature. He knew it wouldn't like his stepping in the way.

He wondered where a monster that size had been hiding in the mountains. He thought he would have heard something before being summoned to White Plains. He lived alone, but still had to buy supplies from the local towns.

He decided that there was no way for anyone to tell him, and no reason. No one knew that he could kill monsters with his bare hands. Why should he let them try to drag him in so he could use his strength to make their lives safer.

They probably thought he was dead since he had to walk from White Plains to get back home.

One time when he had been called away, he had found a squatter in his place. His things were scattered everywhere. He taught that squirrel something.

Pitt heard a snorting up ahead. He had tuned out the small lines of destruction as he moved forward. He had thought the monster would have kept going. He might have been wrong to let his guard down.

He hoped it wasn't another bear foraging for food.

He cautiously approached the sound. He wanted to grab whatever beast it was and deal with it before it knew he was there. If it was the boar, he would think of some way to cook it if he could.

Once he was done with the butchering, he might be able to feed everyone within miles of his place. He wondered how much work he would have to do to install a firepit and a rotating stick to cook his enemy.

He wished Montaque was more reliable. This was the kind of job his ghost power would have helped with when he was alive.

Pitt frowned at the torn up bushes in front of him. The snorting grew louder as he approached. He paused at the behemoth in front of him, pushing against a tree. The tree bent from the impact as the massive weight leaned against it.

He needed to land one solid blow. That should be enough to take care of this problem. Then he could carry the carcass up to his cabin and get ready to cook it and store the meat for winter.

The monster turned at the last second. Anger glowed in its eyes, mist exploding from its snout. It charged the small human who had challenged it.

Pitt grabbed the massive tusks of his enemy as it tried to gore him. He tried to plant his feet, but he didn't have the weight to stop the monster from lifting him off the ground. And then it tried to shake him loose.

He tightened his grip on the oversized teeth. The last thing he needed was to be flung to the ground. Right after that would come a stomping to make sure he was turned into a boneless smear on the road. He also needed to get his feet on the ground so he could use his greater strength without being stabbed by the giant animal.

The demigod got a knee on the snout of the beast. He pushed off with a straightening of his leg. He landed on his feet yards away. The boar snorted again. It snuffled the air as it readied its strength for another charge.

Pitt shook his hands. He had clamped down hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He readied himself to stop being thrown into the air when they clashed again. He had to prevent being taken off his feet so he could finish the fight.

No pig was going to get the better of him.

The boar charged with the tearing of the ground, and snorting filling the air.

Pitt waited, judging its trajectory and speed. He wanted to put it down with one punch. He doubted that would happen. Massive fat like this boar possessed could cushion the blow unless he hit the bone underneath and transferred the full effect to the rigid structure.

He might get lucky and stun it. A following blow would stop the rest of the action for once. Then he could start thinking about getting the pig to a fire pit and the start of a slow cooking.

He punched and realized that he had put too much power into the blow. His fist struck the forehead of the monster. The head exploded away from the blow, sending bone into its body and anything else. The rest of the body flew away from the impact. He made a why me face as the giant boar started its long fall to the base of the mountain.

“I guess I just fed the scavengers,” Pitt told himself. He shook his head. He could have cooked and frozen the meat to live off of for months. He didn't know what his own supplies were at the moment, but they were lesser now.

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He exhaled a breath, straightened his coat, looked upwards. He still had a long way to go from where he was. If he hurried a little, he might make it to the town closest his small place before nightfall. He could get some food and ale before moving on.

It had been a long time since he had killed something by accident. He put it down to the heat of the moment. At least his brothers hadn't seen what had happened and started heckling him over such an amateurish mistake.

He made his way back on the trail. He followed it up. He still had to get home. Just because he had added the boar's strength to his, it wasn't going to carry him through space like a flying carpet, or wings.

Maybe that would have been a better gift to ask for instead of the strength of his enemies. Montaque and Neil had come out all right with their gifts except one could only act with his mind to do one thing, and the other had violated his oath and opened a city to demon invasion, and then met his death in the underworld.

Maybe he hadn't done so bad over the years after all.

Pitt climbed up the trail, smiling when he reached the familiar mile markers he had helped put up on the side of the road. It had been a pleasure to do after one long trip home across the lowlands to stop something else from happening.

That had been a simple job that could have turned into something far worse, but he had handled it as fast as he could so people wouldn't be caught up in what could have happened.

He hoped that he had a good space of time before he was called away from his farm again. The animals were able to take care of themselves, but his meager crops were probably dead with all the time he had spent away from them.

He needed someone to look after the place when he was pulled from his mountains and sent scrambling after some monster in the dark.

He didn't know anyone like that among his neighbors. They all had their own problems. Loaning a worker to him to take care of his patch while he was away didn't seem reasonable when he didn't know how long he was going to be gone.

Maybe he could hire one of the neighbor kids to check on his animals if they notice he wasn't home. Maybe that was a solution so someone was around the farm, and none of his animals went feral, or were preyed on by local predators and monsters.

It was something he could check on when he got home. He hoped the kids didn't try to stab him in the back. He was too old to get revenge for some pettiness. That didn't mean he wouldn't. He was sure the mountains spoke volumes of his bad temper.

Pitt headed toward the town, the gateway to his place. He almost felt cheery. He had saved a city, got rid of a menace, and was only a few miles away from his town, and then a few more miles to his own house and bed.

Only a disaster could stop him now.

He joined a small caravan of wagons heading into town with supplies to be sold. His stomach growled a little to match the small guard dog telling him to keep back. He decided to stop at the inn and see how much of his ill-gotten gains would cover a meal and some beer.

He made a face at the dog while he lengthened his stride. He could have something at the inn long before the wagoneers could reach town with their chain of goods.

Once he ate, he could head for his place. It didn't matter if it was day, or night to him. He had always had naturally good eyesight even in the light of the new moons.

Once he was back on the road, he should reach his home not long after. Then he could get a bath and a fresh change of clothes.

He thought he could check the animals in the morning in case something had happened while he was away. He needed to find a way to stop Montaque from just yanking him to any trouble spot he wanted without some kind of warning.

He was retired. Clerics and knights were doing the Brotherhood's job. He didn't mind helping out, but not being able to get home was a pain.

Maybe he should try to get Montaque to limit the range of the emergency, or at least arrange some way to get home. If it was something simple, he wasn't walking across the plains to start climbing up to where he lived.

He doubted his brother would see things his way. He might have to dig the other man up and talk to him face to fist. It wouldn't be the first time he had been forced to demonstrate what he would do to people who didn't leave him alone.

He smiled when he saw the inn coming up on his right. He sniffed the air and smelled something nice calling to him after the days on the road. The one good thing about his strength and endurance was he could outpace a horse when he wanted to do that.

He was ready for five dinners after his traveling. He decided to take it easy, listen to the chatter. Once he had enough of the townsfolk, and any visitors, he would break out and head for home.

He hoped the innkeeper and his family had prepared the broiled chicken like he liked it. That would be something to look forward to. He silently admitted he would take anything over his own cooking.

He could cook passably, but others' cooking, unless they were failures, tasted better for some reason. He didn't know why. When he was monster hunting with the Brotherhood, the others preferred that he didn't cook while they were camping.

He followed his nose to the inn doors. He was ready for dinner, and some ale while he relaxed and took a break. It had been a long walk across the continent to reach this point. He hoped he didn't have to do it again any time too soon.

He stepped inside. Some of the people waved at him as he went to a small table off to its self. He waved back as he went. He had helped some of them with small problems around their own farms outside of town.

“If it isn't Will Pitt,” said Marlena, the oldest daughter and the waitress for the inn. “Where have you been?”

“I was called away by a relative to handle a problem in the lowlands,” said Pitt. “I just got back to town. I thought I would get something to eat before I walked the rest of the way home.”

“Your relative didn't provide a horse?,” asked Marlena. She smiled at him.

“That clown?,” scoffed Pitt. “He wouldn't give his mother the time of day. Anyway, it's taken me a while to climb up here from the plains.”

“I suppose you will want an ale while you wait for dinner,” said the waitress.

“Two if you can,” said Pitt.