A New Friend
When he woke, the sky had begun to lighten. Everything hurt. His ribs screamed with every breath, and there was a nasty gash along his forearm. But he was alive.
Something warm and wet nudged his side.
The shadow boar stood over him, massive head lowered. It was sniffing — no, nosing — through the small pack that had come loose from Brannock's belt. The creature pulled out the last piece of cheese and ate it with surprising delicacy, then went back to checking the other pockets.
Brannock let out a weak, rasping laugh.
"Greedy bastard, aren't ye?" he muttered.
The boar paused, looked at him, and gave a low grunt. It didn't run. It didn't attack again. It simply stood there, as if deciding something.
Brannock slowly sat up, wincing. "Loaf," he said, tasting the word. "Ye look like a big loaf of dark bread when ye're lying down. Loaf. Suits ye."
The boar snorted, almost dismissively, but it didn't leave. When Brannock eventually staggered to his feet and started limping back toward the trail, Loaf followed at a distance — twenty paces behind, never closer, never farther. A silent, hulking shadow.
Tolerating him.
For now.