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[sup][@Rune_Alchemist][/sup][/center]
It was too quiet for a forest, nothing like the urban parks he’d have headed to for a change in pace, nothing like the secluded highway stretches he’d have headed to for garbage disposal. Quiet enough that he could hear the silence ring in his ear, until the crunch of leaves and the snapping of twigs sounded as loud as broken bone. Compared to the chaos that had occurred moments past, however, Isidore was grateful for the deadly calm, where only invisible dangers lurked and you never knew when you’d be jumped.

He remained careful though, maintaining as straight of a path as he could and sliding the edge of his sword against tree bark if he had to make a noteworthy detour around the terrain. No tracks showed up on the ground that he could make out, but it was expected, in a way. Isidore had never been a woodsman, after all. Perhaps Donovan, upright gentleman that he was, would have been better equipped for such an excursion?

That thought brought a frown to his face.

Odd, that his mind could produce such co-dependent thoughts. He’d have to keep that in mind. He breathed in the cold air, white breath escaping his mouth. Water would be nice too, but they had no pot. Isidore scraped some snow from a low-hanging branch and melted it in his mouth before moistening his lips. Light was growing dimmer; there was no guarantee that two moons would make a return trip at night any safer either. If they couldn’t get a shelter going, they might have to return to the prison too, if only for sturdy walls and a proper roof. Decisions, decisions…

An oink pulled his attention back to the world around him, and his eyes flickered to the direction of the sound. A boar, featuring tusks a foot long and a fur coat that looked prickly to the touch. Meaty, for certain, and dangerous too. Isidore’s own armor had fallen off at this point, and being gored in the gut would be a death sentence, out here alone. The Goddess hadn’t deigned to grant him supernatural capabilities of regeneration yet; his body still ached, and the weight of fatigue clung to him. Had to be smart again.

Isidore breathed in.

It was a frontal charge. The boar had a lower center of gravity and greater momentum due to initiating. The tusks were shorter than his sword, but even if he pierced straight through the boar’s skull, the tusks still end up goring him. Fire didn’t have enough stopping power. A twitch of the boar’s head would increase their threat range instantly. Evade to the side? Might miss the opportunity and the boar would escape. Jump over and slash? Too difficult to negotiate the spacing of tusk and sword in mid-air. Use his energy to make a gun? Hah, had to stop dreaming.

Isidore breathed out.

It was funny, actually, how little he knew about fighting non-humanoid enemies.

He grit his teeth, imagined how good meat would taste after this long, violent day, and met the boar’s charge head-on! Bending his legs, Isidore called forth the imagery of bracing chains once more, the same chains that anchored him in place while he had reinforced Augusta’s resistance against the demon-flower’s arcane pull. As the boar got closer, he lunged forward as well, catching it by its tusks. The impact on his body, even at the apex of human strength, was immense, and Isidore could feel the wound on his left shoulder reopen once again, but it was an impact that he could bear as well. Against the snowy ground, his feet skid and skid and skid, until he finally found the traction he needed to arch backwards and hurl the boar into the air.

There was no time to breath, but it didn’t matter now.

Drawing his sword, Isidore raised it skywards, and caught the falling boar with the length of his blade.