Thomas Reed opened his eyes as dawn light streamed through the small window of his wooden cabin. The wall clock showed 6:00 a.m. He sat up, rubbing his rough hands over his face, trying to shake off the drowsiness. This small cabin had been his home for the past 12 years, situated on the edge of Amboseli National Reserve in Kenya.

 From the window, he could see Mount Kilimanjaro in the distance, its snowcapped peak standing out against the clear blue sky. Thomas stepped down from his creaky wooden bed, his feet touching the cold wooden floor. He pulled an old wool sweater over his shoulders. The early morning air on the Kenyon savannah was always bitterly cold, though daytime temperatures could be scorching.

 He shuffled to the small kitchen corner, taking down the kettle to boil water, preparing coffee as was his daily routine. While waiting for the water to boil, Thomas looked out the window. The savannah stretched endlessly, dry grass golden in the dawn light. The dry season had lasted nearly 3 months. The earth was cracked, trees withered, and animals had to travel farther to find water.

This was the most difficult time of year for every living creature here. The kettle whistled. Thomas poured boiling water into his old tin cup, adding a spoonful of instant coffee. The rich coffee aroma spread through the small cabin. He held the cup and walked to the door, intending to open it and welcome the fresh morning air.

 When Thomas opened the door, the dry savannah wind rushed in, carrying the scent of earth and dry grass. He was about to step out onto the small wooden porch to sit and drink his coffee as usual, but his feet suddenly stopped. The coffee cup in his hand trembled, several brown drops splashing out. Less than 5 m from the porch, an adult female elephant stood motionless. She wasn’t hiding behind an acacia thorn bush. She wasn’t standing on a distant water trail.

 She stood right there in the front yard of the cabin as if waiting for him. Thomas’s heart pounded. He had lived near wildlife for over a decade, but never had an elephant approached his home like this. This cow elephant was massive, nearly 2 and 1/2 m tall at the shoulder, her wrinkled gray skin covered in red dust.

 But what caught Thomas’s attention most were her eyes. The elephant was looking straight at him, not the indifferent gaze of a wild animal encountering humans, but a look of pleading. That gaze sent chills down his spine. Thomas noticed more details. The elephant’s front legs were trembling. Her skin was caked with wet mud, as if she had just waited through a swamp.

 Sweat and fluid flowed from the temporal glands on both sides of her head, creating dark streaks down her cheeks. This was a sign of extreme stress. This elephant was in dire distress. Thomas swallowed hard. Instinct urged him to retreat inside and close the door. A stressed cow elephant was extremely dangerous. They could attack at any moment, but his feet seemed nailed to the wooden floor.

 The cow elephant slowly lowered her head. With her long trunk, she gently lifted a small creature lying at her feet. Only then did Thomas notice there was a baby elephant there. Until now, the calf had lained so still that he hadn’t recognized her. A baby elephant. Thomas’s heart seemed to stop beating. The tiny creature looked pitiful.

 Both hind legs were bent at abnormal angles, clearly broken or severely dislocated. One ear was torn, dried blood forming black streaks on the gray skin. Her coat was soaking wet, her body so emaciated that her ribs protruded clearly. The baby elephant’s chest rose weakly, breath by breath, as if about to stop completely.

 The mother elephant didn’t emit the harsh trumpet call typically heard. She was strangely silent. Using her trunk, she slowly placed the baby elephant on the wooden floor of the porch right in front of Thomas’s feet. The movement was gentle, careful, full of love. Thomas stood still, not daring to move. His mind was reeling.

 Before him was a massive wild animal, weighing over 5 tons, capable of crushing this cabin in mere seconds. But she wasn’t attacking. She wasn’t swinging her trunk threateningly. She wasn’t stamping her feet to mark territory. She just stood there looking at him. And those eyes. Thomas had never seen an animal look at him like that. In the cow elephant’s eyes, he saw a profound desperation.

 A mother begging, pleading, entrusting her only child to a strange creature because that was her last hope. Realizing this, Thomas felt his heart being squeezed. The coffee cup in his hand fell, shattering on the wooden floor, but he didn’t notice. All his attention was focused on the baby elephant lying before him, breathing weakly like a candle about to go out.

Thomas tried to stay calm. He had worked with animals for many years, knowing full well that hasty movements could make everything worse. He slowly bent down, avoiding direct eye contact with the mother elephant, a gesture that could be interpreted as a challenge. Instead, he looked down at the baby elephant.

 The baby elephant’s skin was ice cold when Thomas touched her. She was soaked not just with sweat, but also blood. The torn ear was bleeding fresh, the wound not yet clotted. Both hind legs were severely injured, bones likely broken. But worst were the deep bite wounds on her side and back. Thomas looked more carefully.

 Those were fang marks, claw marks, typical ark-shaped wounds. This was the work of a predator, probably hyenas, or worse, lions. This baby elephant had been attacked when separated from the herd. It was fortunate that the mother elephant found her child in time, but the wounds were already too severe. The baby elephant needed a veterinarian, needed antibiotics, needed surgery to set the broken bones. But all those things were at the field clinic over 10 km away.

And this baby elephant looked like she couldn’t survive the journey there. Thomas looked up at the mother elephant. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t a doctor, that he was just a man living in seclusion without equipment, without adequate medicine, that he didn’t know if he could save the baby elephant.

 But when he looked into those eyes, Thomas couldn’t say no, couldn’t turn away. Because in the mother elephant’s eyes, he saw what any creature, whether human or animal, understood, a mother’s love for her child. The mother elephant had chosen to trust him, had chosen to entrust her child’s life into his hands.

 And Thomas Reed, though afraid, though uncertain, knew he couldn’t ignore this plea. He nodded gently, as if the mother elephant could understand. Then Thomas turned, stepped into the cabin, leaving the door a jar so the mother elephant could see inside. He needed to act quickly. Thomas stood in the cabin looking at the baby elephant lying silently on the porch floor. His mind was racing.

 The baby elephant weighed at least 90 kg, possibly up to 100. He couldn’t lift her, but leaving her outside like this, the daytime temperature would kill her. He quickly ran to the bedroom, pulling the thickest blanket from the bed. This was a wool blanket he’d bought at the Nairobi market 5 years ago. thick and warm.

 Thomas dragged it out to the porch, careful to avoid sudden movements that might startle the mother elephant. The mother elephant stood 3 m away, watching. Her eyes never left the baby elephant, but her trunk occasionally swayed, as if wanting to touch her child, but restraining herself.

 Thomas understood that feeling, the pain of having to hand over your child to someone else, hoping they would do what you couldn’t. Thomas spread the blanket beside the baby elephant. He crouched down, placed his hands under the small creature’s body, and slowly rolled her onto the blanket. The baby elephant moaned softly in pain, but didn’t resist. She was too weak to react.

 Once the baby elephant was on the blanket, Thomas began to pull. He put all his strength into both hands, pulling the blanket slowly toward the door. The wooden floor creaked under the weight. Thomas sweated, breathing heavily, but he didn’t stop. Centimeter by centimeter, the baby elephant was pulled into the cabin. The mother elephant moved closer. Thomas felt her massive presence right behind him. His heart raced, but he didn’t turn around.

 He trusted that if the mother elephant wanted to attack, she would have done so already. Finally, the baby elephant lay inside the cabin on the thick rug in the middle of the small living room. Thomas collapsed to the floor, breathless. He was old. His body no longer had the strength it once did. But now wasn’t the time to rest.

 Thomas stood up, closed the door, but left a small gap. Through the gap, he saw the mother elephant had moved right in front of the porch, lying down. Her trunk hung down, touching the ground, a sign of complete exhaustion. but her eyes still stared intently at the door gap, unblinking. Thomas turned back to the baby elephant.

He knelt beside her, examining the wounds. The closer he looked, the more worried he became. The deepest bite wound on the left side was infected. The surrounding skin was swollen, pus oozing out, the characteristic foul smell of necrotic tissue. Both hind legs bent at abnormal angles, clearly broken bones, or at least severe dislocation.

 The torn ear was still bleeding. Thomas quickly ran to the kitchen corner, grabbed clean towels and warm water. He gently wiped away the blood, then pressed a towel against the wound to stop the bleeding. The baby elephant moaned weakly, but didn’t move much. This was what Thomas feared most. The baby elephant was too quiet.

 She wasn’t thrashing, wasn’t resisting. That was a sign of a body shutting down, no longer having energy to fight. Thomas looked around the cabin. He had a small medicine cabinet in the corner containing basic medical supplies. Gauze, rubbing alcohol, pain relievers, antibiotics for humans.

 But dosages for an elephant? Would they even work? He didn’t dare risk it. He needed help. needed someone who understood elephants, and he only knew one person. Thomas ran to the desk corner where an old satellite phone lay. Cell phone signal didn’t exist here, but satellite phones always worked. He flipped through the contact list, finding Dr. Michael Shaw’s number.

 Michael was a veterinarian working at a wildlife rescue station in the buffer zone of the reserve. They had known each other for 10 years since Thomas first moved here. Michael had helped him treat several injured antelopes and once a baby civet caught in a trap. The phone rang several times. Michael’s sleepy voice answered. Michael asked what was happening.

 Thomas tried to keep his voice calm, but his words poured out, rushed and jumbled. He told about the mother elephant, about the injured baby elephant, about the infected bite wounds and broken bones. Michael was silent for a few seconds. Then his voice, skeptical, asked if Thomas was joking. No one had ever had a wild elephant voluntarily bring her child for help. That had never happened.

Thomas insisted he wasn’t joking. His voice trembled, full of tension. Michael finally believed him. He asked for details about the wounds, about the baby elephant’s condition. Thomas described everything he saw. Michael said keeping warm was the top priority. The baby elephant was losing heat. Don’t give solid food.

 Try to give water and if available, soft fruit like mashed banana. The baby elephant needed energy desperately, but her young stomach couldn’t digest anything heavy. Michael promised to contact Emma, an elephant rescue specialist. She had more experience, and he would prepare medicine and come as soon as possible. But from the station to Thomas’s cabin would take at least 3 hours.

 Thomas had to keep the baby elephant alive until then. Thomas hung up, feeling both relieved and more worried. At least now he knew what to do. He ran to the kitchen, rumaging through the cupboard. Fortunately, he had a few ripe bananas left from last week’s market trip. Thomas took one, peeled it, put it in a bowl, and mashed it with a fork.

 He added a little warm water, stirring until it had a smooth, semi-liquid consistency. Then he brought it to the baby elephant. The baby elephant still lay quietly, only her chest gently rising and falling. Thomas knelt down, gently lifting the small creature’s head slightly. He dripped banana water drop by drop into the baby elephant’s mouth.

The first time, no response. Thomas patiently tried again. The second time, the baby elephant’s small tongue moved, licking gently. Thomas felt a ray of hope. She still had a swallowing reflex that meant the body was still fighting. He continued slowly feeding, bit by bit, not rushing. It took nearly 20 minutes for the baby elephant to eat half a mashed banana.

 After that, Thomas got more clean water, dropping it into her mouth for her to drink. Done with that, Thomas stood up, looking around the room. He needed to keep the baby elephant warm. The kerosene heater in the corner of the room was turned on. Thomas pulled it closer, adjusting the temperature. Then he got more blankets and towels, arranging them around the baby elephant to create a warm nest.

 The small cabin now looked chaotic. Belongings shifted everywhere. The coffee cup shattered on the porch, blankets soaked with blood and mud. But Thomas didn’t care. All he thought about was keeping this tiny creature alive. He opened the door slightly, looking outside.

 The mother elephant still lay there in the exact same position as before. When she saw Thomas, she lifted her head slightly, her eyes looking at him. Thomas spoke softly to her. He said the baby elephant was still breathing, still alive. He was trying his best. He didn’t know if the mother elephant could understand human language, but he needed to speak.

 The mother elephant just waved her trunk lightly once, then put her head back down. But in those eyes, Thomas sensed gratitude. Or perhaps it was just his imagination. But he wanted to believe it was real. Time passed. Thomas didn’t leave the baby elephant’s side. He sat beside her, occasionally checking her breathing, touching her skin to feel the temperature.

Every 15 minutes, he gave the baby elephant more water or mashed banana to eat. The sun rose high. Light shone through the window, creating yellow streaks on the wooden floor. The outside temperature rose quickly, but inside the cabin remained cool thanks to the thick walls and thatched roof.

 Around midday, a miracle happened. The baby elephant moved. A front leg jerked slightly. Thomas looked up, observing intently. A few seconds later, the baby elephant moaned once, her eyes opening a little. Thomas felt his heart leap to his throat. He was overcome with emotion, his voice trembling. He told the baby elephant not to give up.

 “Keep fighting.” The baby elephant looked at him. Her eyes were still cloudy, but there was awareness. She breathed a little stronger. That was a good sign. Thomas opened the door, looking outside. The mother elephant was looking in. He told her child had just woken up. She was trying to live.

 The mother elephant didn’t stand up, but her trunk stretched toward the door as if wanting to touch her child. Thomas felt his chest tighten. The mother elephant’s pain was so clear, wanting to be with her child, but knowing she herself couldn’t save her. Evening came. Thomas heard the sound of a car from afar.

 He ran outside, seeing Michael’s old jeep rolling on the dirt road, red dust flying thickly behind it. The car stopped. Michael stepped down, followed by a young woman, about 35, hair tied neatly, wearing a beige shirt. She carried a large backpack and a medical equipment bag. Michael introduced her. This was Emma, an elephant rescue specialist.

 She worked for an international wildlife protection organization with 10 years of experience with African elephants. Emma looked around, her eyes stopping at the mother elephant lying in front of the porch. She said in a low voice, “This was a rare situation. Wild elephants were usually very wary of humans.

 The fact that the mother elephant stayed here, accepting the presence of strangers, proved she was in a state of complete desperation.” The three entered the cabin. Emma knelt beside the baby elephant, beginning to examine her. Her hands moved quickly and professionally, checking each wound, feeling bones, measuring breathing rate. After 5 minutes, Emma looked up, her face serious. She said the baby elephant had multiple traumas.

 Broken bones in both hind legs. One leg might require surgery. The bite wound on her side was severely infected. Needed highdose antibiotics immediately. Severe dehydration and malnutrition. But the fortunate thing was she was still alive, still had the will to fight. Emma asked what caused these wounds. Thomas described what he saw. Emma nodded just as she thought.

 This was from a hyena attack. The baby elephant probably got separated from the herd at night, and the pack of hyenas discovered her. The mother elephant certainly fought to save her child, but couldn’t completely prevent it. Emma opened her backpack, taking out syringes and antibiotic vials.

 She prepared the dosage based on the estimated weight of the baby elephant. Michael helped hold the baby elephant’s head, keeping her still. Emma injected into the thigh muscle. The baby elephant jerked, crying out pitifully, “E.” The cry was weak, but full of pain. Immediately from outside came the mother elephant’s long trumpet call, full of worry. Thomas stood beside them, hands clenched, feeling helpless.

 He wanted to do something, but could only stand and watch, hoping the experts knew what they were doing. Emma finished injecting, took out an IV bag. She found a vein in the baby elephant’s leg. Carefully inserting the needle. Fluid began flowing into the small creature’s body. Emma told Thomas the baby elephant needed IV fluids all night, needed close monitoring.

 If fever increased or wounds worsened, she must be taken to the clinic immediately. But moving the baby elephant in this condition was very dangerous. Best to treat on site if possible. Emma left a bag of medicine, instructing Thomas how to inject antibiotics every eight hours, how to change IV fluids, how to check temperature and breathing rate.

 She also left several bottles of special formula for orphaned baby elephants, instructing how to prepare it. Michael said they would return tomorrow morning to check the situation. If there were any problems, call immediately. Thomas nodded, grateful. As the two prepared to leave, Emma stopped at the door, turning to look at the mother elephant. She said this wasn’t normal.

 In 10 years working with elephants, she had never seen a wild elephant behave like this. This mother elephant must have observed Thomas before, knew he lived here, and trusted him. That was extraordinary trust. The Jeep drove away, the engine sound fading into the night. Thomas stood on the porch, looking at the mother elephant.

 She still lay there, trunk placed near the door gap as if protecting. Thomas spoke softly to her. He said they had done their best. Now they had to wait and see if the baby elephant was strong enough to pull through. Night fell. The Kenyon savannah was immersed in darkness. Cricut sounds echoed. Occasionally there were distant calls of hyenas or low roars of lions. But no animal dared approach the cabin.

The mother elephant was there like a living fortress. Thomas sat beside the baby elephant all night. He didn’t sleep. Didn’t dare close his eyes. Every half hour he checked her breathing, touched her skin to ensure temperature was stable. He changed IV bags when they emptied carefully as Emma had taught.

 At midnight, he prepared formula, slowly feeding the baby elephant through a bottle with a soft rubber nipple. The baby elephant sucked weakly, but she sucked. That was a good sign. Time passed slowly. Thomas felt every second like an hour. He listened to each breath of the baby elephant, afraid that at any moment she would stop breathing. But the baby elephant didn’t give up.

 She continued breathing, breath by breath, weak but steady like a small flame in the wind, flickering but not extinguishing. Dawn came. The first light shone through the window. Thomas looked up, realizing he had been awake all night. His body was exhausted, back aching, but he didn’t care because the baby elephant was moving.

 She was moving more strongly than last night. One front leg stretched out, then pulled back, eyes opened wider, breathing deeper. Thomas felt tears flowing. He couldn’t hold them back. His voice trembled, whispering to the baby elephant. He said she still wanted to live. That was the most wonderful thing. He stood up, opened the door, looking outside.

The mother elephant was also looking in. Her eyes were still full of worry, but there was a new ray of hope. Thomas told her child was getting better, fighting, and they wouldn’t give up. The mother elephant stood up, trunks stretching toward the door.

 Thomas opened the door wider, letting her see the baby elephant more clearly. The mother elephant emitted a gentle, soft trumpet call, the sound mother elephants reserve for their children. And from inside the cabin, the baby elephant answered. A weak ee sound, but clear, the call of a child for her mother. Thomas stood between the two elephants, feeling he was witnessing something sacred.

 The mother child bond had no boundaries between humans and animals. It was just the purest love willing to do anything to protect a child. 2 days later, Michael called. He said the baby elephant needed more thorough examination, x-rays to determine the extent of bone fractures. The field clinic had equipment, but they had to bring the baby elephant there. Thomas worried.

 The baby elephant had gotten better, but was still weak. Moving her could be dangerous. But Michael said if the bones weren’t properly set, the baby elephant would be permanently disabled, unable to survive in the wild. Thomas agreed. The next morning, Michael drove a pickup truck with a wide bed. They spread thick straw padded with blankets, creating a soft layer.

 Then three people, Thomas, Michael, and another rescue worker together moved the baby elephant. The baby elephant was heavier than Thomas estimated. It took nearly 20 minutes before they could get her onto the truck bed by using a blanket as a stretcher, slowly lifting. The baby elephant cried out several times in pain, but didn’t resist much.

 When the baby elephant was on the truck, the mother elephant became restless. She paced back and forth, trunk swinging up, emitting worried trumpet calls. Thomas approached, speaking softly to her. He promised to bring her child back. This was just to help her get better. The mother elephant looked at Thomas, then at the baby elephant on the truck bed. Then she did something no one expected.

 She began running after the truck. Michael drove slowly, only 10 km per hour, so the mother elephant could keep up. The red dirt road was bumpy, dust flying thickly. Thomas sat in the back bed beside the baby elephant. One hand holding the IV drip, one hand stroking her to keep her calm.

 Throughout the 3 km journey to the clinic, the mother elephant didn’t stray far. She ran beside the truck, trunk occasionally stretching up to touch the bed as if wanting to make sure her child was still there. When they arrived at the clinic, Emma and another veterinarian were already waiting.

 They brought the baby elephant into the clinic, a large wooden building with complete medical equipment. The mother elephant stood outside the window, trunk pressed against the glass, looking in without moving. Inside the room, the veterinarian, a man named David, examined thoroughly. They took X-rays, viewing results on the computer screen. David pointed at the image.

 Both hind legs of the baby elephant were broken, but fortunately they were clean brakes, not shattered, could be fixed with splints and plaster casts. The wound on the side was healing thanks to antibiotics that had prevented infection from spreading. Emma said the baby elephant could recover completely if properly cared for over the next 2 to 3 months.

 After that, she could return to the herd. They began setting the bones. The baby elephant was given light anesthesia so she wouldn’t feel pain. Thomas stood beside them, hands clenched, watching the doctor’s work. Every time there was a sound, the mother elephant outside would emit worried calls. After an hour, everything was done.

 Both hind legs of the baby elephant were carefully bandaged, fixed with light but secure splints. The wound on her side was treated with medicine and rebandaged. The torn ear was stitched back, though it would still leave a scar. Emma said Thomas could take the baby elephant home to continue care. Needed to give medicine regularly, change bandages daily, and ensure the baby elephant ate adequately.

 She gave Thomas a detailed list of tasks to do. Thomas thanked each person in turn. He knew without them, the baby elephant would have died. They put the baby elephant back on the truck to return. This time the mother elephant still ran alongside but looked calmer. Perhaps she sensed her child was getting better.

 When they returned to the cabin, Thomas and Michael carefully brought the baby elephant down, placing her back in her old position in the living room. The mother elephant approached the door. Thomas opened it wide so she could see her child. The mother elephant stretched her trunk inside, gently touching the baby elephant. The baby elephant answered with a small sound. Then the mother elephant turned to look at Thomas, and in those eyes he saw deep gratitude.

 The following days passed in continuous work. Thomas cared for the baby elephant like caring for a human child. He woke up every 3 hours at night to give her milk. During the day, he fed her mashed bananas, softboiled vegetables, sometimes fresh tree leaves he picked from the garden. The baby elephant ate more each day. Her body gradually filled out.

 The wound on her side closed, leaving only a pink scar. The leg bones were healing, monitored through weekly X-rays at the clinic. The mother elephant stayed. She didn’t leave, though herd had certainly moved elsewhere to find water and food. She chose to stay alone, caring for her child, even when the child was in the hands of a stranger.

At night, Thomas occasionally went to the porch, looking at the mother elephant sleeping. She lay right in the front yard, trunk curled, ears folded down to keep warm. In sleep, she looked peaceful, but every few minutes she would wake with a start, looking toward the door to make sure her child was still safe. Thomas felt a deep respect.

 People said animals didn’t have feelings like humans. But standing before this mother elephant’s perseverance, he knew that was wrong. The mother elephant’s love for her child was no different from any human mother’s love. The third week, the baby elephant stood up for the first time. Both front legs supported the ground quite steadily.

 Both hind legs were still bandaged, but she tried to put weight on them. The first time she fell, but she tried again and again until finally she could stand. Though wobbly, Thomas was overjoyed. He ran outside, calling the mother elephant. He opened the door wide, letting her see the child standing. The mother elephant emitted a joyful trumpet call, trunk swinging high.

 From then on, the baby elephant progressed rapidly. Each day, she could walk a little farther from one end of the room to the other, then out to the porch, then down to the yard. Local people began hearing the news. A few curious people came to see.

 They stood at a distance looking at the mother and baby elephant, whispering to each other. Some warned Thomas that this was dangerous. Wild elephants could attack at any time. But Thomas reassured them. He said this mother elephant was different. She only wanted her child to live, and as long as the baby elephant needed help, the mother elephant wouldn’t harm anyone. The assistant ranger of the reserve also visited.

 He was a man named Joseph who had worked here for 20 years. Joseph said this was an unprecedented situation. He had to report to superiors ensuring everything was monitored according to proper procedures. But Joseph also admitted this was miraculous. It proved wild animals could understand more than humans thought.

 And sometimes the boundary between instinct and intelligence wasn’t as clear as that. The second month, the bandages were removed. Emma and David came to check. The bones had healed completely. The baby elephant could now walk normally, though still slightly limping. Emma said it was time for the baby elephant to reintegrate with nature. She couldn’t live in the cabin forever.

 She needed to learn to live like an elephant, find food, interact with the herd, understand elephant social rules. Thomas knew that was right, but his heart achd. Over the past two months, he had bonded with this baby elephant as if she were his own child. Letting her go was difficult, but he also knew it was the right thing to do.

 One evening, Thomas sat on the porch watching the baby elephant playing with her mother in the yard. The baby elephant ran and jumped around the mother elephant. Trunk wrapped around mother’s trunk, playing tugofwar. The mother elephant stood still, letting her child play, occasionally stretching her trunk to stroke the child’s head. That scene made Thomas smile.

 This was what he had fought to protect, the bond between mother and child. That night, Thomas slept more soundly than any other night. He knew the baby elephant would be okay, and the mother elephant could finally be at peace. But when Thomas woke up the next morning, he discovered something unexpected. The mother elephant was gone.

 Thomas ran outside, looking all around. The front yard was empty. Only large footprints remained on the dry ground, pointing toward the savannah. Inside the cabin, the baby elephant was calling. Small e sounds as if calling for mother. She fumbled to the door, trunk stretching outside, searching. Thomas stood there, feeling his heart squeeze. The mother elephant had left.

 She had entrusted her child to him, trusting that this was where her child would be safe. He hugged the baby elephant, stroking her. He understood that from now on, he was the only one the baby elephant had, and he would not disappoint the mother elephant.