"I think we're lost, Morris," Jack whispered.

Morris grunted and pressed his snout against Jack's hand to comfort him. They sat down as it began to snow lightly. Soon, Morris's rough pink hide was dusted with snowflakes.

"Think you can find us a way back?"

"Shouldn't be too hard," Morris grumbled back.

Jack felt a wave of affection for the great beast, his best friend since birth. Handed to him before he could string two words together. Only they could communicate directly. Their magic faltered whenever they were alone. Jack shuddered to think what would've happened if he'd become lost alone. At least this way, they had their magic.

He laid a hand on the pig's head and sent a gentle stream of magic to his friend. Morris took a deep, snuffling breath and immediately whipped his head to the east. His power of scent was supernatural, and made stronger by Jack's touch. He would find their way home from this disastrous adventure.

"Well, let's get going, boy," Morris said, taking a deep sniff of the night air. Jack clambered onto his friend's back, and they were off, streaking through the forest. Back home, to the simple comforts of the castle. A crackling fire and the lilting, merry music of the minstrels. Jack felt warmed by the very thought.

Suddenly, Morris squealed and fell heavily to the ground, sending Jack tumbling to the ground. He fell painfully on his arm, and felt it snap beneath him. He fainted before he could see what had struck his friend down.

"Wake up boy," he heard, and felt a rough hand slap his face. The grizzled face of one of the forest's guardian swam into view. He had seen him once or twice before. He was in the man's cabin, swaddled in blankets before a fire.

"Eat," the man told him, and handed him a bowl of food. "I don't think we've been introduced, lad. The name's Harris."

Automatically, he took a bite. The rich stew had a salty bite to it.

"What happened?" he muttered, shovelling the food down.

"Raiders," Harris sighed. "You sure chose a terrible time for explorin', boy."

The reminder of his misadventure brought the world into sharp focus.

"Where's Morris?" he asked. He always found it disconcerting when the pig's solid, comforting form was missing, however temporarily.

"Morris?" Harris frowned. "I only found you, boy. Oh, and a dead pig. Lucky, too. Didn't have a scrap of food in the house, y'know."

The implications of Harris's words crawled slowly, horribly, into Jack's mind. The bowl fell to the ground from his nerveless fingers. He heaved as he realise what he'd done.

"Gah!" Harris cried as Jack threw up on him. "What's the matter with you, lad? Waste of good meat, this!"

Jack reached into his own mind and tried to draw on his power, but it was gone. Dead and gone, like his friend, whose remains lay scattered across the rough floor of the cabin.