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Tag No.
Warthog Skull
wild pig skull; wood frame, dried foliage
Since the moment he capsized on the island the pig was his nemesis. In a violent storm on his third night, the pig crashed through his makeshift shelter, so he slept in the freezing rain. It pilfered the fruits he harvested from the forest, and uprooted the potato garden he tended. Its incessant nocturnal squealing left him exhausted each morning. So on the night when he finally succumbed to fever from an infection—a cut on his foot caused by the trap of broken shells he had laid around his camp—and crawled out to the beach to gaze at the vast black sky, he was surprised when the pig came and silently laid down beside him. He was comforted as he felt the pig’s breath slow to match his own as he finally drifted off to sleep.