It's not like it's too hard.

Victoria walks through the woods in a daze, following the path of discarded armor bits and trampled brush Hilda has left in her disastrous wake.

The sheer amount of discarded armor and other debris makes it easy to follow.

Victoria finds a gauntlet here, a pauldron there, then a greave, then another gauntlet, and finally even Hilda's breastplate

"H-Hilda?" The buxom noblewoman asks, her voice cracking in fear oh-so-slightly (not that she will admit it).

A pitiful mewling answers her as she looks around.

Victoria's concern immediately turns to laughter.

Down at the bottle of a very slight hill is the frazzled knight. Her armor is all gone, leaving her in just the (now muddy and torn) padded shirt and pants she wears underneath.

She is wedged between to fallen trees, her legs wimpily dangling as she weakly kicks, trying to get free.

But most embarrassing for Hilda (and funniest to Victoria) is the location of the most noticeable rip in her pants.

The seat of Hilda's pants has completely torn open, revealing her poor choice of underwear.