The Sentinels I made it in my mind because

Dash wasn't much of a planner. He did not give the prey much scrutiny, other than to judge its size and vitality against his own and that of the stranger. After some very cursory consideration, he decided it was a battle he could probably win, and he charged. This was how Dash operated in all areas of life: make a move, and deal with the consequences later. 

The boar was not expecting the attack, and so Dash began with the advantage. The pig stumbled heavily upon impact, and Dash pulled it down as his teeth connected. Blood and flesh tore, and the boar screamed. Its hooves flailed in the air, catching Dash on his right flank and ribcage. The hunter yelped piteously, but he was not otherwise deterred. Taking advantage of the moment that the boar took to find its feet, he darted for the throat. 

His teeth connected, but at a great price. The boar twisted into him at the last moment, catching its tusk on Dash's left shoulder. The hunter pulled away with a howl of pain. Favoring his wounded shoulder, he hopped backward, putting a safe distance between himself and the hog. If the stranger wanted to step up and finish it off, he was more than welcome. The boar's lifeblood coursed from the wound Dash had opened in its neck, glisteningly darkly upon its chest in the halflight of the copse.