Meanwhile, Wilbur Pace had doubled-back on the same trail from the previous day. Still convinced of his destiny, he followed the tracks to a dwelling just off the riverbank. He heard it first, though its call was almost drowned out by the flow of rushing water. He crept in the shade of the palms, slowly inching closer to the sound. Then he spotted it second. A stout, rotund hog was resting at the watering hole.

"What a sight!" Pace whispered.

The boar had no tusks, but offered 200 kilograms of sheer size. It grazed peacefully, unaware of its newfound affection. Pace, with all the stealth he could muster, slowly circled the clearing. It was his naïve instinct to try and close in on the boar. He had studied this technique from a tribal man in Zimbabwe and felt certain he could execute with just as much ease. Pace removed his oilcloth hat and lowered his knapsack from his back. The rifle felt lighter in his hands and as he crouched, the gun fell with him.

"Come on, piggy. Come on, you filthy hog." Pace jeered, inching forward.

He shifted his weight and a twig snapped beneath his boot. The noise spooked the boar and Pace fell backward into a spindly tree. A cracking sound echoed as a long branch, thick as a ship mast, fell across his legs. He was thrown from his feet and the gun from his hand. Birds darted in every direction, squawking overhead as though sounding an alarm.

"Intruder! Devil!" Pace heard them say. The birds sang in chorus. "Be gone. Beware!"

Pace was still on his back, unable to move the broken tree. That's when he saw it –out of the corner of his eye. The boar came sauntering to his side –his snout still wet –his eyes big and wide.

Pace began to panic. He writhed and he writhed but his gun was out of reach. "Curse this tree!" He screamed.

"Intruder! Devil-man." The birds still crowed above.

"No. NO!" Pace bellowed.

"Be gone. BE GONE!" He shouted at the boar.

It blinked back, quiet. There was a familiarity in its eyes, Pace found. Had he seen these eyes before? What strange behavior for a boar.

"I've been waiting for you." He heard the hog snort. "Such a long way you have come to get here."

Pace was sure he had gone mad!

"I –I mean no harm!" Pace cried out. "I am lost. I am hurt!"

"You are not hurt. You are broken. I'm afraid there's no fixing you." The hog blinked again.

"You beast! What do you know?" Pace's words dripped with terror.

"I've been waiting for you. Such a long way you have come to get here."

"Here? Where is here?" Pace asked.

The boar blinked and snorted a laugh. He spun on the spot to indicate the space around them. Pace watched the boar retreat. Meters away, it turned to face him.

"Wilbur, my friend, welcome to your end." The boar kicked and grunted. It bounded forward.

He could still feel the rocks beneath his back and hear the birds above him –an endless ringing in his ears. Soil tasted bitter on his tongue and earth filled his lungs. The ground shook beneath him as the boar closed in. Pace's vision blurred as the African sun torched the sky. It was a blue he had never seen before, a lovely shade to help him die.

They spotted a dwelling just off the riverbank, with what appeared to be fresh boar tracks leading to and from.

"Oi, over there! I found him, just there beyond the brush," Boyd shouted over his shoulder.

The four men hustled lightly over to the spot where Boyd had indicated. It was tucked away from the river, behind a strip of wild vegetation. They peered down at the sight before their feet. A body was tarnished red, blood spilling over the chest cavity like waves of a sea.

"I do not believe my eyes! Who would believe it?" Callan's voice dripped with jubilance.

"Would you look at that," Goodwin said. He pointed to a dark shape lying on the ground just beside Wilbur Pace. "What's that, there? Is that?"

"But it is!" Fray snickered. "What greed!"

"What a sign from the gods!" Goodwin cackled through his teeth.

Callan knelt to the ground and raised the still warm heart in his hands. "You got your wish Pace. Behold," Callan said. "A wild hog's heart!"