An indignant snort came out from Boarfang's mount, as the Grey Ironhide Boar with the height of 10 feet, which Boarfang cherished like it was family, reacted angrily after seeing its Master's outrage by emitting plumes of smoke from its nostrils, expressing its unhappiness.
It pointed its razor-sharp tusks, which resembled javelins of unrivaled sharpness, towards the tribal warriors in front of it, and as soon as they attempted to assault his master, gore and filth would promptly spew, and corpses of men would be impaled by the beast's enormous tusks.
A menacing vibe radiates from its grey hide, which glistened like iron and seemed to be impenetrable as if it were formed of a stone slab. With his hooves loaded and ready to explode, it gives off the impression that you are being pursued by something akin to a tank.
Man and a boar were standing side by side, as they recalled the sensation of being out in the wild for the second time, as threads of viciousness twisted their features, their rage-filled eyes glanced about them as if to say, "Who dare stand in my way? Boarfang and The Grey Ironhide Boar?"
In the meantime, the other normal tribe members who had gathered outside the gateway to receive their families back from their successful hunt turned pale and took a step back, their hearts beating madly.
"Who killed that kid? I swear, if I die, I'll haunt you for the rest of my life!"
They were thinking about things like this while they looked left and right in an attempt to track down the culprit, which proved futile. They were rendered powerless by the second when they saw Boarfang brandishing his battle-axe, as if he were about to chop people in half with it.
"What seems to be the ruckus, Boarfang? You're as feisty as ever," In an unexpected turn of events, an older man walking down the road with a staff made of some unknown wood and clothed in some rough fur robe attentively studied and scrutinized the hefty man who stood in front of him as a silver opened in his eyes.
Those who were part of the normal tribe rejoiced as they bowed their heads in reverence and made way for the elderly man, who passed by shortly.
"Shaman…" Despite the fact that Boarfang was fuming with anger at the time, there was still a tinge of respect in his voice, as he replied slowly.
The old shaman, who had wrinkles on his forehead as well as the attitude of an elderly person, that was lecturing a member of the younger generation, said, "Young people sure are feisty... I comprehend what you're feeling... Enduring the death of a loved one is a difficult thing to cope with. Boarfang, therefore try to come to my cottage in an hour's time and I'll see to it that your problem is addressed adequately."
Boarfang's veins threatened to burst in his head upon hearing those remarks. The shaman smiled slightly. Despite this, Boarfang still nodded slightly to the old shaman as a gesture of respect, as his face became calm, and then promptly put his battle axe down to his waist. After that, he soothed his mount in order to get it to calm down.
The Grey Ironhide Boar, upon seeing the old shaman, had a grumpy expression on its face, as he considered him to be a formidable opponent to contend with. However, in the presence of Boarfang's rubs, its rage started to subside gradually, and it pushed Boarfang gently with its tusks as a sign of love.
When the Tribal Warriors next to him saw that Boarfang had taken a step back to enable them to pass, they drew a sigh of relief, and they promptly followed him through the gate, giving him sympathetic looks.
A growing number of mounts passed through the gate as beasts of all sizes, big and little, were transported through it on a cart, with the Hunting Chieftain and Hawkeye on the other side, keeping a close eye on things from the rear.
Therefore, they were unable to witness the encounter between Boarfang and the Shaman; nevertheless, the news would eventually reach them since it is now the subject of discussion within the tribe.
Boarfang and his stalwart mount, the Grey Ironhide Boar, looked somber as they watched their comrades pass them every second. Immediately after that, Boarfang had a thought since he had no idea what was happening with his wife at this time and was concerned that anything could happen to her.
Gripping the reigns with both hands, he leaped onto the back of his mount, at least ten feet above the ground, and urged the boar to gallop as fast as he could back to the house.
It raced off at breakneck speed with a single oink, and his enormous bulk allowed him to travel at the pace of two adult men in a single stride, which was impressive.
As soon as they got there, Boarfang arrived, and proceeded to the backyard, where the boars' huge bulk fell, weary from the excursion they had just made. Not for long, booming snores echoed across the backyard as it slept blissfully in contentment, feeling completely secure since it was now at his house and in the presence of its master.
.....
With the passing of time, Boarfang and his wife grew displeased with the constant banging on the door, which caused Boarfang to lose his temper once again. He believed that the ideal time specified by the shaman had not yet come and that some punk was attempting to make light of the situation.
A harsh harrumph could be heard as Boarfang moved forward with his battle axe in one hand, his angry aura about to erupt.