The Last Elephant Keeper

Part 8

A deafening roar reverberated through the icy landscape, sending shivers down Khumo's spine. The powerful, trumpeting call was unlike anything she had ever heard, and it struck fear into the very core of her being. The sheer dominance of the sound caused her to lose her footing, and she stumbled back down the hill face, her heart pounding in her chest.

Gasping for breath, Khumo scrambled to regain her balance. Whatever had emitted that imposing roar was nearby, and her instincts screamed at her to proceed with caution. She paused for a moment, steadying herself against the slope, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the mysterious creature.

As she caught her breath, Khumo's mind raced. The notebook her mother had left her—the one she always carried with her—might hold a clue to the identity of the hills she had unknowingly stumbled upon. She fumbled through her backpack, retrieving the worn notebook and carefully unfolding the note that had been tucked inside.

Her eyes scanned the familiar handwriting, and a mix of relief and realization washed over her. This was the place her mother had mentioned—The trumpeting had to be elephants, they were real.

Rising up the incline with a renewed sense of purpose, Khumo's heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her senses were heightened as she sprinted toward the thunderous trumpet sound. Thrill and curiosity mingled within her, overshadowing any concerns of danger.

As she drew nearer to the source of the sound, the anticipation in her chest grew. But as Khumo approached the animals responsible for the roar, a realization struck her like a bolt of lightning: she had unwittingly invaded a herd of elephants. The thrill that had once consumed her now wavered, giving way to a surge of trepidation.

As the herd of elephants sensed Khumo's retreat, they shifted away, their imposing trumpets giving way to a more subdued and austere language of grunts and rumbles exchanged among themselves. The atmosphere around them palpably changed, an unspoken understanding passing between these gentle giants.

Beside Khumo, her mother's worn notebook slipped from her grasp and tumbled onto the soft earth, its pages fluttering open to one of the many illustrations that Khumo had always assumed were mere products of her mother's vivid imagination rather than concrete truths. Yet, there it was—a striking depiction of a heavily scarred elephant, the name "Blaze" etched beneath it.

Her fingers tightened around the book, finding solace in its familiar weight. The illustration of Blaze stared back at her, now in its and Khumo felt an inexplicable connection to this mighty creature. Somehow, she knew that the encounter with this specific elephant was more than just a random event; it was a moment of significance.

Khumo took a deep breath, her voice trembling but resolute. She spoke softly, attempting to convey her intentions to these magnificent beings.

"Blaze," she uttered the name, almost as a gentle prayer. "I come in peace. My mom- I'm just passing by, and I got lost."

Blaze turned to face the intruder who had encroached upon their ever diminshing watering hole, and shrinking source of moss like plant they fed on.

Khumo's breath caught in her throat as she found herself facing the wrath of a wild and formidable creature. The seconds stretched into an eternity as she stood frozen in place, her instincts urging her to flee while her curiosity begged her to stay and learn from these majestic beings.

But Blaze was relentless, and the ground trembled beneath her massive feet as she surged toward Khumo. Panic surged through Khumo's veins, and she turned to flee, only to find the grass beneath her feet odourful and slippery.

With an agile grace born of reflex training, Khumo managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid Blaze's earth-shaking stomp. She felt the gust of wind from the elephant's colossal motion, and her heart pounded with both fear and awe at the near miss.