Looking at the incoming boars, Eleanor's mind cleared into a cold, sharp space. Her spear hummed within a steady lightning loop. She understood she could not stop all three at once. She had to break their charge and their momentum.
Instead of dodging, Eleanor sprinted towards the lead boar. It noticed her defiance and became even more enraged, charging with greater ferocity. The ground trembled beneath its hooves. As it lowered its massive head to gore her, Eleanor fixed her target: the gap in the coarse hair, the exposed ribs above its heart.
She planted her back foot, becoming a statue amid the storm of its charge, and thrust. It was a pure, flawless attack, one she had practised thousands of times. The blazing blue spear tip shot forward.
