It's a nice sentiment, but the boar, at least, seems to have other ideas. His lip curls into a piggy sneer, grunting derisively at the gems below, before he turns -- with a last, insolent raise of his half-petrified scut of a tail in their direction -- and begins to run off into the trees.

This is no place to fight, after all. Much better to head for somewhere he has an advantage, meaning plenty of room for his bulk to maneuver.