If I had had some, my breath would have wooshed out of my chest. As it was, I had lost the instinct to do much of that a few weeks ago now. Instead, my chest rose - and then stayed there, as if a build of of pressure had made it fill, then stayed at that limit. Blinking, I tilted my head, staring down at the two creatures before us.

A dire boar, fierce and brutal, the size of four or five horses in both bulk and size. A downy coat of brown, coarse fur made up this monster's hide, one that was wicked and spoke of harsh but warm nights. Certainly, this pig of mammoth size, could survive in a cold wood like this. He could stomach the freezing winds and live through the harshest freezes. All he would need was a fresh surplus of feed to keep it going - meat or vegetables would suffice.

The treant curled around him was fearsome also to behold. Massive, standing on tree-trunk literal legs, he made a bellow as the leaves that he - or was it an 'it' - had magically summoned up spiralled at the boar. The wind and the flat leaves bashed against the boar, but he seemed to be able to stomach it - he was definitely a 'he,' for sake of the tusks and the wondrous package I could see dangling beneath his two hind legs - and only was pushed back a foot or so. I saw Erik swing up his massive bow that was more metal than wood and begin to fix an arrow upon it. Nodding to him once I prepared myself, swinging forth the blade of my naginata, and wanting a mount so badly.

But where in this ruined, cold world would I find a chocobo right for me.

The boar let out a savage roar and suddenly pushed off with his hooves to charge the treant beast. I saw the wicked claw-like, branchy fingers swing out and try to scrape at the boar's flank. They were locked in battle certainly, beast against beast, with little regard for the two undead beings who hunted them, and watched from amongst the snows. Uncertainty filled me as I saw the boar slam the treant against a tree trunk and those dead leaves that remained clinging to branches were shaken off, along with freshly falling snow.

My head was met with some of that snow and I hissed as I felt ... the cold. Ah, then so I could feel such a thing. My feet were apparently just too numb, and my tunic presumably was sufficient so far.

Curling my gloved hands around my naginata I slipped to the side, watching the grasping monsters grapple at one another against the heavy trunk. I slid in the icy snow, and whisked around to where I wanted to be - by the boar's flank. Looking up at Erik I mimed myself stabbing the pig, whilst he prepared himself, and I let a sliver of joy enter into my eyes.

I would wait for his action, then go with mine.