It was mostly useless. The meat he was sure he could use, sure. But aside from being decoration, he had no idea what to do with the tusks and hooves.
They sat despondently in a pile on the other side of his makeshift camp, with his crackling fire spitting out embers repeatedly as grease dripped into it from above. The boar meat was turning a dark brown, liquid dripping down on occasion as he turned the stick that held it.