Death was seeping into her massive body, a heap of flesh turning sour, like milk. She could not walk, could not forage for food. Soon, she would starve. 

It wasn’t her own mortality that concerned her. She had lived a full life. But what would become of her sons? They still needed her, they relied on her to survive.

What chance did orphans have in this world? 

She lay on her side against an acacia tree, the sparse leaves providing little cover from the scorching savannah sun. Her youngest, just a few months old, lay nestled between her legs. He sucked desperately at her breast, unable to sustain more than a few drags before losing steam. 

It was her fault. 

Her milk expressed in a hiccuped trickle, the well of her lifeline running dry. He hadn’t been fed properly in days and was growing increasingly frail.

The idea that she might have to watch her baby starve, to live on if he died, brought hot, salty liquid flooding into the nook of her lower eyelid. She quickly blinked it back, not wanting to waste any hydration on tears. 

It should be conserved for milk. 

In the instant the accident had happened, she knew she would not walk again. They had been foraging high up on the ridge, much farther than they generally dared to venture. They were led by a seasoned matriarch, always shrewd in how she guided her kin. She knew better.

But she’d had little choice. 

They encountered humans almost everywhere they roamed now. Some seemed to be mere observers of their activities, watching from afar, emitting noises of excitement and joy in the elephants’ presence. There were others, however, who treated her kind with violent animosity. When the elephants ventured too close to their squat, mud dwellings, or dared to snack on the sweet and meaty taro growing there, the humans would exact vengeance, beating them back with sticks, or digging spears into the thick flesh of their hides, drawing viscous, garnet blood. Sometimes the humans sounded high decibel alarms, so piercing and noxious as to cause the elephants’ ears to bleed. She knew of many in her own herd who’d gone partially or fully deaf from such encounters. 

And then there were the worst of them: humans who actively hunted elephants for their tusks. Carnage could be found scattered across the plains, the bloody carcasses of the population’s largest and most magnificent males with their tusks hacked or torn from their bodies. 

It hardly made sense to her. Why would humans want these? She knew other animals fed on each other, subsisted on each other’s flesh. She knew this, and accepted it as a part of the Creator’s design. But leaving the whole mass of the animal, taking only this small part… it seemed an insult to creation to destroy so frivolously a being as big and beautiful as the elephant, one that exacted such a high energetic cost to breathe life into and maintain on the Earth. 

Did the tusks contain some magic alchemy of which she was not aware? For elephants, tusks were a tool with which to grind, dig, transport, and self-protect. They were life-affirming and sometimes life-saving.  

So much hostile encounter with the small human creatures and their large menaces had taught her it was best to steer clear of them, especially now that she had two young sons of her own to watch over. That was how she and the elders of the herd had chosen the risky path along the ridge for foraging – it would provide the ample vegetation they needed to survive, and hardly any animals, least of all humans, were ever found there given the rugged and difficult terrain. 

They had been walking single-file along the narrow ridge when she had lost her footing and slipped. To prevent herself from tumbling over the side, she had leaned all of her weight onto her rear hind leg. One leg could not possibly carry the full weight of an elephant, and it buckled under her, the bone shattering to pieces. She wondered if this is how the rocks had felt when they, too, gave way under her weight, splintering off and skidding down the steep edge of the ridge into the abyss below. Helpless. She sent them a solemn, sad prayer of gratitude for their sacrifice. 

She had taken to scuffling on her rear, in slow spurts, to try and keep pace with the rest of the herd. Exhausted from pulling her weight, she had stopped to take rest under the acacia. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to continue on. From her squat vantage point, her youngest was eye level with her as he stood on his wobbly legs. How he must see the world, so tiny and vulnerable, larger creatures looming all around. 

She and her baby could sense each other’s emotions through the air, a connection established over the two long years that he had gestated in her womb. It was invisible, like an electric current between them, yet as real and strong as her limbs had once been. 

She could taste the stress emanating from his tiny body; he could feel the life force draining from hers. He clung to her, desperate. 

He elder son was some distance away, struggling to reach the leaves on the shorter trees with his small trunk. She willed him to grow faster.   

The elders of the tribe, including the two biggest bulls, had done their best to form a ring of protection around them as they moved. But they themselves would weaken without even one day of adequate sustenance, and for an elephant, that was upwards of a few hundred pounds of food a day. She noted that with each passing hour, they roamed farther and farther away to find vegetation, leaving her alone with her young for longer and longer periods of time. 

A nagging thought plagued her now. What if the lions caught the smell of death on her? Dared to venture close? Her elder might have a fighting chance. He was seven now. He might be strong enough to outrun them and keep pace with the herd. She prayed intensely to the Mother Creator that her kin would come to his defense if he needed them. 

But her infant, small and frail as he was, could hardly walk, much less outrun a creature hungry for his flesh. The notion sent a jolt of adrenaline through her, and she made a desperate attempt to stand. Pain seared through her leg like mamba venom, and she fell back on her rear, shaking the Earth like a felled tree.

Suddenly, her ears picked up a familiar sound. It was the one that signaled humans approaching in their mobility machines. Like the roar of a lion, but a higher pitch, not as frightening but in many ways more piercing. It was getting louder, and she was instantly on guard, her whole body tense. 

They must be very close. She raised her trunk and bellowed a trumpet at her eldest to hurry back to her, instructing both of her sons to stand behind her body. She fanned out her strong, muscular ears to shield them.

She sounded a louder trumpet, this time toward the herd, to warn them that humans were nearby. 

Before any of the herd had a chance to come to her aid, the humans were within her line of sight. Their machine had come to a stop mere yards away and three of them emerged, communicating in low, hushed tones. She felt a rush of fear at their focused attention on her and her two sons. 

What did they want? None of them carried those strange devices that burped little snaps and clicks when they looked at the animals through them. She had no tusks to offer, having been born without them, a growing phenomenon among female elephants in Africa. She had not encroached on any human territory that she could remember – and an elephant’s memory was long. 

A horrifying thought crossed her mind — did they mean to kidnap her sons?! Take them for labor or entertainment? She’d heard stories of elephants being snatched from their mothers, reared in captivity and made to walk in circles and perform stunts in large tents, or sit in cages for humans to look at. But thankfully this was getting less common, and she hadn’t heard such a tale in many moons. 

Or maybe…could she dare to hope that they might help her? There were also stories of sick or helpless elephants who had been picked up by the humans and placed in safer territory. It was why the elephant councils had a pact not to harm every human that came across their path. There were some who carried very high vibrations, and one couldn’t take a chance on hurting such a being. 

Two of the humans — males by their scent — approached her. On instinct, she raised her trunk in defense. Her youngest began to whine, licking her damaged hind leg with his tiny, parched tongue. She tried her best to comfort him with soft murmurs of assurance, but he could smell the fear on her. 

Her eldest edged out from behind her and stood by her side, trunk in the air and body erect, his best effort at intimidation despite his small stature. His bravery filled her with pride, as well as grief. He had a long way to go yet to become a bull and mature into his full size. She wanted so desperately for him to take his journey of growth into adulthood. Every being deserved the chance to complete their life’s fullest expression. 

One of the humans took a few delicate steps closer to her, his head bowed in a passive gesture of lowered defenses. She bellowed but allowed him near, staying vigilant. One strong swipe of her ear could break his body. He gingerly touched her injured leg and she felt a shockwave run through her. She’d never been this close to a human, much less felt one’s skin against hers. 

He mumbled some sounds as he approached her face, cautiously, slowly. His electric heart gave off a current of sadness as he began to whisper a melody. Though she could not decipher the words, she recognized them somehow, as if from a dream.

She would be at ease now. Sleep would come, and she would not feel any more pain.

He pricked her thick hide, a tiny sting like a wasp. Maybe as she slept they would repair her leg and care for her sons. She would heal and they could all return to their herd. 

She tried to feel relief as she slipped into slumber. She would not have to leave her sons on their own. She’d grow old watching them grow, know the satisfaction of a mother whose duty to her children was complete. 

And yet, as she felt her cells cascading into a state of hibernation, her instincts told her otherwise. Her strong heartbeat slowed to a patter, and her eyelids drooped heavy. She let out a soft and desperate whisper of desire, the only awareness left as she lost grasp on her consciousness. It was for the lives of her children. 

To her elder, she spoke a prayer of strength. 

To her youngest, one of abiding love. 

To the humans, a plea to take care of her sons. 

And as her lungs contracted to stillness, her last breath escaped her, and she was gone.