"Bloody men! Always staying at home, uselessly idling around, while us hard-working women must go out and work ourselves to exhaustion to put bread on the table! And they have the temerity to have their own opinions? They should just keep their mouths shut and focus on their cooking, their needlework, and their husbandly duties in the bedroom!"

Taking a deep breath, I sagged against a tree. Wow, that was...cathartic. No wonder men were such chauvinistic arseholes!

I had been trekking through the forest for over three hours by now—which I knew because, of all things, miraculously, my pocket watch had somehow survived the shipwrecking. Three hours. And I hadn't found a single morsel of food. Oh, I had found plenty of stuff that could potentially be food—but would I risk eating them? Nah-ah. Not in a million years. The bright, cheerful patterns on those fruits reminded me a little bit too much of some delightfully poisonous snakes I had encountered during my travels with Mr Ambrose.

Not that I had any idea whether that meant that they were actually dangerous. But, well...taking previous experiences into account, I wasn't willing to take the risk.

So, if not fruit, what did that leave?

Animals. Animals of all shapes and sizes. Animals from a thousand different species. And, lastly but most definitely not least important: animals that would have to be hunted.

Oh joy.

Ever so gently, I pushed aside the branch in front of me. There, in the clearing right ahead, stood a small, wild piglet. A small, juicy, damnably delicious-looking piglet. If I hadn't known the feeling came from gathering saliva, I would have thought I suddenly had a waterfall inside my mouth. Slowly, cautiously, I stepped out into the open.

"Good piggy, nice piggy," I whispered, slowly stalking closer. "Be a good little pork roast and stay where you are, will you?"

The piglet continued munching grass peacefully. It showed no reaction. All I heard was a soft grunt from behind me. Excellent. Now I could—

I froze.

Wait...from behind me?

Slowly, I turned my head.

"Oh, um...hello."

The massive mama pig behind me gave me a death stare that somehow, incredibly, could compete with the likes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Maybe it was the maw full of giant, deadly teeth?

She opened her maw and roared. Genuinely frigging roared.

Yep, it's the tusks. Definitely the tusks.

"Um...I was just looking. No offense, right?" I cleared my throat. "I mean, I'm sure we can resolve this peacefully, mother to mother?"

The wild boar gave another roar.

"Um...all right, so maybe this doesn't look very good for me, but I promise I didn't mean to—"

The wild boar charged.

"Oh bloody hell!"

I burst out into the clearing, startling the little piglet and sending it scrambling away into the underbrush. Right now, though, I couldn't care less, because...

"Oooiiink!"

Yes, that was why.

The enraged mama pig raced after me, screeching and grunting and growling what I was pretty sure were death-threats in Piganese. Or was it Piggish?

"Ooooink!"

This really isn't the bloody time to think about that, Lilly!

I glanced back, for just a moment—and regretted it an instant later. The mama pig was catching up, fast! And worse...

"Aaaaaah!"

Yep. Bloody stinking root. Did I have to trip now, of all times?

I barely managed to catch myself before I hit the ground. More to the point, before my belly did. Instantly, I rolled to the side and—

"Grrrawww!"

The bristly beast rushed past me, missing me only by inches. I didn't have time to send a prayer of appreciation heavenwards, or express my thanks to the patron saint of hungry mama pigs for not gutting me. She was already slowing down and coming for another round.

"Oooink!"

Crap, crap, crap!

Scrambling to my feet, I dashed back into the bushes in the desperate hope the underbrush would slow her down. Good news: it worked. Bad news: it also slowed me down! Quite a lot more than the furious four-legged beast behind me.

"Shitcrapdamn!"

"Grraaw!"

Smash! Crack!

I was never ever going to try being the breadwinner of the family again. Not, at least, unless I was armed with my trusty revolver, ten Gatling guns and three dozen sticks of dynamite! And I was most certainly not going to do it while the "bread" in question came in the form of a hundred and sixty pounds of angry pork.

How the heck was I going to get out of this?

"Screeaa-ee-ee-each! Ooink!"

Scratch that. How was I going to survive the next five minutes?!

By running, Lilly. That's how.

I really, really, really hated that inner voice of mine right now. I especially hated that she had a point. My legs pumped painfully. Twigs and thorns tore through my petticoat and into my skin. Behind me, the thundering sound of the wild boar's hooves pounding against the ground approached faster and faster. Its speed was only outdone by the panicked sound of my own heart pounding in my ears.

Crap, crap, crap! I won't be able to get away! I'll get trampled by a bloody pig and there's not a thing I could do about—

That's when I saw it. The tree.

I was under no illusions regarding my capability to climb a tree in my current condition. Heck, I was rather doubtful about my ability to climb a tree while I wasn't pregnant, let alone when I was and I had an enraged wild pig chasing after me!

But that only applied to trees that were still standing.

I lunged towards the fallen tree, held up at a near thirty-degree angle by the branches of its compatriots. Hands grabbing onto leaves and twigs, I scrambled up the splintered trunk, my feet slipping on the wet wood. From behind me came another angry screech—much, much closer this time.

Faster, Lilly! Faster!

Again, I hurled myself forward, trying desperately to get higher, to get farther away, before—

Thud!

With a thunderous crash, the raging pig rammed into the base of the tree beneath me. The whole thing shook, and I barely managed to cling on for life. And it was my life on the line here, no doubt about it. And not just mine, either. If I fell right here, right now, I and my unborn child would be trampled beneath the hooves of a pissed-off mama. Now, wasn't that ironic?

Somehow, I couldn't really appreciate the irony.

"Ooink! Ooooiink!"

Again, the beast smashed into the tree. Once again, I nearly slipped off the wood and fell. Only a single hand wrapped around a branch prevented me from becoming pig food. Growling, I slid my legs around the trunk and clung on in desperation while the attack continued relentlessly.

Thud!

Thud!

Crash!

Until suddenly...silence.

I glanced down, just to check if Mr Rikkard Ambrose had made a sudden appearance. But no. The wild boar had simply decided there were better ways to get and gut me than ramming her head repeatedly against a tree.

The mama pig snorted. Her breath wafted over the tree's splintered stump like a fine mist. Then she raised a front hoof and slowly, carefully, placed it onto the main part of the tree.

Oh no, you don't!

Clenching my legs more tightly around the trunk, I let go of one of the branches—only to reach out another, half-rotten one.

Crack!

The branch broke easily under my grip. Twisting around as far as I could, I took aim and...

Thump!

The branch hit the pig right on the head, and it jumped back with a startled squeak.

"Ha, take that, you furry beast! And you know what? You should go to the dentist! Your teeth are ugly!"

"Oooink!"

"Up yours, too!"

Once again, the pig moved towards the tree and raised one leg. I looked around desperately trying to find another rotten branch, to find anything I could use as a weapon. But there was nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pig place its front hoof onto the tree.

No, no, no, no!

The pig moved forward—

—and slipped off the wet bark.

"Oooink!"

Ha!

I grinned down at the pig, who did not seem pleased about being thwarted.

"Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Ooooink!"

"I must say, I'm really enjoying the view from up here. Thanks so much for showing me to this nice tree."

"Oooink!"

Was it supposed to be this amusing to make fun of a pig?

Probably not. But right now, I didn't give a crap. Hugging the tree to me tightly, I grinned down at the annoyed truffle sniffer.

"Yes, a really nice view." Smiling, I let myself relax against the tree, allowing myself to bask in the warmth of the sunlight on my skin. "I think I should stay here for a bit longer, don't you think?"

"Oiink!

"I'm so happy you agree. It's really nice to have pleasant people to chat with."

After that, things sort of cooled down. The pig circled the splintered stump of the tree for a few more minutes, balefully glaring up at me. But once she realized I wasn't coming down and was not, in fact, going to gobble up her kid in the foreseeable future, she turned around and cantered back into the jungle.

I waited for a long moment. Then another. And another.

"Phew!"

I had escaped! It was over!

Except...was it really?

Just then, my stomach rumbled. The grumble was almost loud enough to be mistaken for an approaching thunderstorm.

Still no food. Still no way to survive.

What did it really matter if the mama pig didn't trample me? I was going to starve to death sooner rather than later. In spite of that, for now, I wasn't planning on continuing to look for food. Getting chased by an enraged sow once a day was enough for me, thank you very much.

I licked my dry, parched lips.

Food could wait. For now, I had to get a drink and some rest.

It took about half an hour to find my way back to the pond. Apparently, running madly through the forest while being chased by a wild pig tends to make you lose your way. Who knew? When I finally came to a stop in front of the glittering pool, panting loudly, I was nearly ready to collapse.

"To think...I told...Mr Ambrose...pant, pant...how healthy exercise was...for pregnant women! Talk about...pant...putting your food in your mouth!"

Not that I'd object to putting something in my mouth right now. But I'd very much prefer it to be something tastier than my own foot, thank you very much.

Well, for now, water will have to do.

When my breathing had finally calmed down, I knelt beside the pond. Bending down, I took a deep, soothing gulp of water, not even glancing at the beautiful fish swimming in the pond. I had more important things to think about. Like where to find food, and—

Wait a moment.

Fish?

I closed my eyes, counted to ten and opened them again. The fish were still there.

Fish in the pond. Fish as in food. Grub. Edible stuff. Frigging piles of it!

I felt like banging my head against the wall. Except...there wasn't any. Would banging my head against a nice, hard tree be a sufficient replacement? Probably not. I had run around looking for non-existent food and being chased by wild boars for the last several hours, and there had been food right here under my nose the entire time!

Where was a really hard wall when you needed one?

Instead of going to look for the cave to ram my head against some nice rocks, I did something marginally more sensible. I went in search of something to use as a net. Or fishing line. Or...what did people actually use to catch fish? I actually had no bloody clue.

Well, there always is the best and oldest method of all, right? Trial and error, Lilly. Trial and error.

That was so wonderfully helpful.

All right, enough time wasted!

Without wasting another second of time, I headed into the jungle. Five minutes later, I returned with several large palm leaves. I weaved them together as best I could—knotted and entangled, more like—until I had a messy, but fairly reasonable imitation of a fishing net. It was a thing with holes in it, anyway. That was the definition of a net, right?

Wading into the water, I placed the thing on the bottom of the pond and lay down in the grass at the edge, unmoving. My hands, out of sight of the unsuspecting fish, were clenched around the bits of palm leaf net that stuck out of the water.

I waited. I waited like a snake in the grass, ready to strike. The fish, who had been chased off by my wading into the water earlier, slowly peeked out from behind the weeds, then started to return, spreading throughout the pond once more. Slowly but surely, they approached my home-made net. Three feet...

Two...

One...

Now!

I gave a quick, sudden jerk! There was a silvery flash, as something with glittering scales flew up out of the water.

"Yes! Yes, I got o—"

That was when a wet fish hit me in the face.

"Nngmmph! Gak! Arg!"

Sputtering and choking, I tried to grab the fish, then touched something slimy and wet, and very much regretted grabbing the fish. Before I could do anything, it had slipped through my fingers and was flopping on the ground in front of me. I didn't wait. I didn't hesitate. I just grabbed a nearby stone and brought it down onto the thing. And again. And again.

Finally, panting hard, I dropped the stone and stared down at the fish. The unmoving fish.

I waited for a second.

And another.

Could it really be...

"Yes!" I punched the air. "Victory!"

Fence, apparently attracted by my antics, trotted to my side, curiously regarding the unmoving fish on the ground.

"Woof?"

"Yes, it is me! The victorious huntress! Shout my greatness from the rooftops!"

"Woof, woof!"

It was only then that I realized a slight problem.

"Um..." I looked at the fish again, then glanced down at Fence, who looked back at me with his shiny, black, philosophical eyes. "How do you eat these without choking on fish bone again?"

"Woof!"

"Thank you so much for that wonderful advice."



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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

A wild pig is generally referred to as a wild boar, no matter the gender, even though "boar" is a word for a male wild pig. Proof that not just men can be chauvinist pigs, but pigs can too ;)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob