[Sam260]

A stick... He scoffed and shook his head "It'll have to do for now." He murmured, eyes still locked with the beast before them. He took a deep breath and glanced back at Rivers "If anything happens... Just run. I don't need you dying as well, alright?" Roswell readied the switchblade in his hand, fist tight around the handle as he stared the boar down. This was going to be tricky, and he really hoped he didn't die today - he wanted to see more of Rivers.

Ross took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He cleared his mind of all thoughts in that breath, even the man behind him. He lunged forward with a murderous scream and, being the expert football player that he was, tackled the boar to the ground with a well placed shoulder-check to the brute's chest.

The boar snorted loudly again as it was toppled to the ground, tusks thrashing wildly and legs kicking out to try and connect with Ross's body. The muscular frame of the man took a beating that would surely hurt come morning, but he sliced his way through thick tough skin, growling much like the boar beneath him "Fucker! We need you for food!" Ross shouted in its face, as if it would actually understand and submit to his will. It did not. It put up a hefty fight, even catching a tusk in one of Ross's arms for a brief moment; ripping the skin open in the process.

Ross yelped in pain before plunging his knife forward to where he was certain the beasts heart was, pushing it in as deep as the blade would go. The boar's fight was slowly draining, life blood seeping into the sandy terrain beneath them. Ross hung his head in what looked like defeat or exhaustion, his arm was bleeding heavily and bruises were already forming on his tanned complexion, although those wouldn't be very visible until he was undressed.