There was enough of the woods left in the small village to provide some privacy when the burly man needed to walk. He pushed himself each trek; first to the large oak within eyeshot of the house and then to the tree line at the property’s edge.
Zahne tried his best to avoid people; he didn’t know how close Bryn was to her neighbors or how prevalent small town nosiness was in Hooksworth. In time, his presence would be known and he would need to depart. She didn’t deserve the stigma of his presence. Zahne wasn't even sure if he knew how to make new friends.
His large, twisted hand found purchase on horizontal growing, low hanging, thick branch. It’s mate joined shortly after and the soldier slowly tested both the durability of the bough and the strength of his arms. The branch creaked, as did his joints, but slowly his body lifted briefly from the ground. He dropped like a millstone shortly after and the effort left him winded and gasping for breath.
This would be the way it would go for many weeks. Zahne slowly remembered and strengthened his body, each trip into the woods taking him farther from Bryn and Hooksworth and closer to what he was so long before.
It was only a matter of time before the large outer walls of Bree came into the soldier’s vision. His travels had so far been unimpeded, but prior to now, Zahne remained on roads and trails once he left the sleepy village. Now, he was further into the wilds and while not lost, he wasn’t exactly sure how far away various points of civilization were. This became a stark reality as the brushes behind him exploded with loud snapping and grunting.
Pain bloomed in his lower thigh as the large man was impacted. The stink of boar flesh and the wiry coat poking through his pant leg gave clues to the assailant. Zahne managed to catch himself as he fell into a nearby trunk. The large beast continued past and then snarled as it slowed and turned around a score of feet away.
It was easily the size of a large dog: the hog’s coat was matted with mud and foamy drool was flecked with filth as it bubbled around the beast’s snout. It cast a steely, maddened glare at the man before charging once again.
Zahne was unarmed and unsure if he could even counter another charge. There were no branches in the tree low enough for him to climb into and no make-shift clubs among the deadfall that was on the ground. Another guttural snort signaled that he was also out of time to think of other avenues of escape. The beast launched itself once more toward Zahne. Ten stones' weight of muscle and sinew barreled once more toward the battered man. Without thought, the warrior’s reflexes engaged. It was sobering to the Breelander as his own hands received the boar’s charge and fingers clenched painfully to secure swine flesh about its shoulder blades. He felt his body seem to collapse as he rolled backward; a boot was placed into the coarsely furred chest as he yanked the boar toward and over him as he was tumbled over. A heartbeat later, Zahne released the cob roller into the air and it sailed with force into the tree behind him. The boar hit back first with a sickening crunch: a greasy smear of blood coated the bark where it had hit.
Energy pumped through his veins; Zahne’s arms shook from the event and his heart thudded in his chest. He finally breathed a great gasping lungful of air as he continued toward the still beast. Sensing no further movement, the soldier finally came off the razor’s edge of alertness. His body sagged as his heart’s hammering began to slow in his chest.
For the first time since he awoke, Zahne truly felt alive. It was both an exhilaration and a great sadness as the hulking man returned to Hooksworth, thoughts of his purpose on this world filling up his head. Was this all his hands would ever do?
