I'd seen beast charges before. I'd even baited one or two into them, usually while yelling something inspirational like, "Run faster or you'll die." But nothing quite prepares you for six muscle-bound pigs with the temperament of berserkers and tusks sharp enough to disembowel a wyvern.
Julien went in first—because of course he did—flashing that cocky grin like we were in a duel and not an open field of screaming death.
"Come on, you walking ham sandwich!"
The lead boar barreled toward him. He dodged, barely, and the impact shattered a tree behind him.
"I am never eating bacon again!" Leo cried, flinging a weak firebolt that singed a boar's backside and only made it angrier.
"Congratulations," I muttered, slicing across one beast's flank as it lunged at Wallace. "You've given it a reason to hate us personally."
