Mibbet landed precariously perched upon the porcine snout, and dove quickly to the back, hanging on as tight as she could manage.

The airborne non avian attacker did not appreciate the sudden passenger of course, and letting out a squeal of sheer outrage started to fly so fast it could be taken as streaky bacon.

Mibbet dug her heels in harder, and gripped tight beneath the chin, because if she slipped here it was a very very long way down, and slipping here would be as easy as falling off a log. (Luckily Mibbet as a frog had plenty of practice at avoiding that kind of outcome, as a frog that falls off a log at the wrong time is also known as the entree.)

Screams and grunts of piggy outrage filled the air as Hes got as high up as she could to avoid the impending chaos. After which like a proper heroine she would of course swoop in and rescue the Damsel OF Distress that was Rosalind Von Harmsworth. For now though it was time to break out the popcorn and watch the chaos unfold.

Mibbet hung on for dear life, given that hanging on like grim death was a tad too close to the knuckle, then in the absence of any other idea she decided to deal with the porky pack by doing what she did best, being annoying as all hell.

Kicking with her heels she forced the boars head to point in the direction of the others, as you can imagine steering several stone of soaring sausages sucked, and was not simple. But once she started to understand the process she was the cause of multiple midair mashups. Each more chaotic than the last. Then just to add an extra refined dollop of rage to the situation she started to pull silly faces while singing about sausages in her most annoying voice.

Luckily for Mibbet unlike regular pigs who, despite the reputation they may have are very intelligent creatures, soaring boars are complete and utter twittering twits. The end result of her airborne aggravations was a complete and utter incredibly violent scrum.

Pig turned on pig, seeming determined to knock the stuffing out of each other, and many a case of smacked chops were had, hocks were chopped, the occasional wing could not shoulder the burden of holding their bearer aloft. Loins were made tender, and to cut a long story short a right old scrap took place in the air. (What do you call a fight between airborne pigs anyway? Dog fight really doesn’t have the right ring to it.)

Mibbet of course revelled in the violence, jumping into the middle of the fray using all the power provided by her froggy origin to the best of her ability, hacking and slashing, occasionally hopping from one porcine prey to the next as best she could, and all around revelling in the chaos.

************************************************************************

Sir Leeroy had of course been completely unable to relax in the absence of The Princess, so he had headed out for a walk. It was a lively day with barely a cloud in the sky, though he couldn’t figure out where all that racket was coming from. (It sounded a lot like the kind of music his daughter listened to all the time, with all that screaming, and grunting. He really couldn’t understand what she saw in it even after being dragged out to several so called concerts. But he was more than happy to make the effort for her sake.)

His stomach grumbled loudly, he’d been in such a hurry to leave the workshop and clear his head that it hadn’t even occurred to him to pack a lunch (Which given that this was Sir Leeroy we’re talking about should speak well of how distracted he was. That man could eat two potatoes more than a pig, then eat the pig, and still have the room left to ask what was dessert, yet unlike Sir Humphrey it all went to muscle.) “I’d kill for a bacon sandwich,” he muttered, with very unfortunate timing considering a few moments after he was nearly killed BY bacon, as an entire pig descended from the heavens with great speed, and a massive crash. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any beer to go with that do you?” He asked, making the most terrifying miscalculation, and gazing skyward.

OH DEAR GODS. The Princess was about fifty feet up, (at least he thought it was her, but realistically who the hell else would it be in that situation? Nobody else would do that.... well... maybe her mother.) she was leaping from pig to pig, and wreaking absolute havoc while down on the ground Sir Leeroy came to the sudden realisation that he didn’t need to worry about the fatty foods giving him a heart attack, as his young ward seemed more than happy to provide all the inspiration for such an event by herself.

He desperately dashed back and forth beneath her, trying to make sure that if she plummeted he could at least break her fall (while probably also breaking every bone in his body, but as we have already ascertained he was not in a situation to calmly plan a rational response, due in part to the fact the Crown Princess he was assigned to guard with his very life if needs be mark you, that bit is very important, was currently fifty odd feet up in the air and somehow STILL managing to find a way to make the situation more dangerous. That took real talent that did.)

He ran about for as long as he could manage, wishing he had bought that bloody slow-fall charm back in Ravynmardi, (the chap selling it had looked a bit suspect, but if he’d realised the situations he would soon face he’d have volunteered to test every one in the damned city personally rather than deal with what was happening right now.) Before collapsing in a heap, oh it seemed Hestia was up above to catch her if needs be, maybe she had planned this through after al......... WAIT probably not. This was The Princess after all, that kid was impulsive as her mother, and twice as prone to getting into trouble. Yeah after this he was definitely retiring.