The Sentinels I made it in my mind because

as kjalarr takes his time, summoning nigh seven years of learned patience, his younger companion rushes the boar. a soft hiss of disapproval leaves the northman but it goes unheard in the scuffle between the two. for this, kjalarr stays back; knowing that he would only get in the way as boar and stranger tusseled.

for a moment, kjalarr was impressed with what he thought was a rash decision, when it appeared that the stranger might single-pawed take down the boar. Freyr might have tipped the scales of the hunt in the stranger's favor.

a heartbeat later and kjalarr can hear the splice of the boar's tusk on flesh, the howl of the stranger's pain. stupid boy, kjalarr huffs under his breath, unceremoniously. a roll of his eyes is given, though with only one good eye, it likely lost it's effect.

one way or the other, they would make a meal of this boar: it would not survive its wounds for long and kjalarr hated to let the effort go to waste, especially as freyr had called for the stranger's blood as said stranger hobbles back. the northman steps forth, drawing in a soft breath. freyr, blessaðu þessa veiði — he murmurs the low, rasping prayer in his native tongue; eyes closing for a moment.

when it opens, he focuses good eye on the boar, huffing and whimpering with pain. with the worst of the work done, kjalarr's job was easy ...so long as he could avoid those swinging tusks. he surges forward and nips: at it's hocks, finding that its energy was waning and the swing of its tusks was slower; clumsier.

when kjalarr was content that he would not be skewered as his companion, he lunges for the torn flesh of its throat and clamps down; feeling the familiar slip of life. a lone cry and the boar collapses, finally, to the ground.

the crunch of bones beneath kjalarr's jaws was only to ensure and he lets go, salmon pink tongue drawling across his jowls stained crimson with the boar's blood. come, kjalarr calls. eat your fill.

to give him room, kjalarr takes a step back, a soft hiss of pain leaving him as the ache in his arthritic leg now a low throbbing stab. though there were advantages to getting old, there were certainly downfalls to it as well. you should come to my bay, let one of my medics take a look at that wound. an offer: though kjalarr was not the one to twist his leg if he refused.