As spells went it was pretty unimpressive. No smoke, or light, no thunder not even a feeling of power coursing through his overly muscled body. In fact, if his senses hadn't been stretched to their utmost he probably wouldn't have heard the slight squelch as the black bear finally stopped chasing him. Frankly a two-ton rock on the head was a pretty sure fire way of stopping most pursuers.
'Now what?' Borysko thought. 'Drakon dead and me miles from shelter without food, sword or even a bow to hunt food with.'
He'd lost his bearings in his mad dash through the forest and wasn't entirely sure which way to head to get back home. There was also the question of Drakon's poor mangled body. As he looked at the young mage again he did a quick double take. Fooled by the dim light in the forest and his own fears what he now saw was Drakon's blood-soaked and torn silver robes, wrapped around a sack of straw. Obviously a short term spell had run it's course revealing the true nature of the "corpse"
The boy was still out there... possibly naked, but hopefully not. He had two options, downhill or up - which way would the accident prone trainee mage gone? The stupid kid was useless at magic - but his father was a fair woodsman, he'd head downhill hoping for a stream. Borysko was torn, almost as much as Drakon's robe - return home as best he could, or continue his search?