A rich, musky scent accompanies her for some minutes before its meaning arrives and the hair on her limbs bristles as though she, too, is a boar preparing to charge. Before she fully understands that the dark cluster of shrubs in front of her has transformed into muscle, bone and tusks, her body reacts, turns and runs along the just-trodden path.

Poor frightened animal body that does what it can while the knowing mind takes its time. Stand your ground and shout with authority, her mind says as the back of her thigh bursts open and the rest of her flips in the air and comes down hard. Play dead, her clever, too-slow mind instructs as her body scrambles for the nearest tree. The boar backs up, lowers its monstrous head. Her hands cling heroically to the branch as a tusk slides through her guts, then out again. The boar moves away, hooves the dirt. Its next charge will gore her all the way to heaven.