There's a tearing sound as worn fabric and stitches struggle to hold together, the cloth ripping along the seams and pulling free of the magician, but not before he is, yes, yank off his feet and dragged along the ground. As much as Childermass has kept the shabby thing in reasonable condition, holding up to the assault of an infuriated porcine just isn't one of those things it was ever intended to deal with.

The good news for Childermass is, that means he isn't dragged along very far before the cloth parts with a horrible tearing sound. The bad news is, well, he's still dragged along for a bit, but the boar's momentum carries it forward enough that it can't immediately turn and rush back at him. Hooves clatter with a deafening cacophony as they scrabble for purchase on stone, the beast snorting and tossing his head and sending the sleeve that remains caught on his tusks flapping wildly and smacking into his face.

The boar's confusion buys the magician some time. The question is, what is he going to do with it?