CHAPTER 3
I don’t get these humans. They like to ride on me. Pat me. And feed me. I’m not one of their young. So why do they treat me like this? I don’t look like them. I’m grey, and wrinkly with huge ears and a long trunk. Maybe they are blind. That sounds about right. But the young in any species is always smaller the the elders. And I’m way bigger than their elders.
This morning started off normal for me. The young human who looks after me came and got me. We went to go have our daily morning swim but I couldn’t. The Sea is my friend. It has always been my friend. But today it was not being friendly. There was a dark, angry mood about her. She is normally calm and happy. She cares for her young, the fish. But today she was wild and evil. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be near her. I knew something bad was going to happen. I had to get as far away from her as possible. ‘Oona! Calm down, Oona!’ the human says to me. His kind voice calms me down, takes me back to reality. But my fear remains, deep inside of me, waiting for the moment to jump out and flee.
Some days, the humans that go for rides on me are cruel. They say harsh words and yell at me. Other times they are to loud, to quiet or to annoying. I’ve met good ones before. But not often. The human youngling who got on me today was different. He was quiet, but not to quiet and he wasn’t loud. He wasn’t annoying or angry. He was sad, he had been sad for a long time. I could tell. But when he was riding me he let go of his sadness that hung over him. And that made me feel good. I liked this boy. He reminded me of my young. That I left long ago. I miss them. But I was taken by cruel hunters. Then people saved me and within the year I was with my kind human, that has become a second family for me. But this boy felt more like family than the human ever had. But then the fear rooted deep inside my heart jumped out. I panicked, the Sea was retreating fast and leaving its dead young gasping for air (well, more like water), the young she loved with all her heart. And she was just… killing them. It was not right, this wasn’t her. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt me and the boy. So I fled.
‘Oona! Come back! Oona, please!’ the human yelled urgently. But I couldn’t. Maybe he would follow me. I hoped he would. He didn’t deserve to die. The boy was screaming. But he was hurting my friend, the Wind. He was taking great bites out of her. So I went faster. So it hurt to scream. So he stopped. The Wind was sore, but she was worried about the Sea. She went to investigate. Her children, the birds wouldn’t come. They have the same survival instinct as me.
The youngling was calming down now. He had gotten used to the way I moved up and down through the Jungle. He knew to cling on to me, so he wouldn’t fall. The youngling was smart. But after a while he started moaning, ‘Oona, water, please’. We passed creaks and streams and little gullies. But I couldn’t stop to drink. In my home I had watched a member of my herd get bitten by a crocodile. He died of his wounds two days later. Now, I only drink water when absolutely necessary.
Eventually the moans became louder and more urgent. His grip slackend and I knew I would have to take the risk. The next time I saw water it was in the form of a big river, leading into an even bigger pond. The water was murky with big boulders, the perfect hiding place for crocodiles. But he needed water. Carefully I trotted down to the pool. I was anxious and ready to bolt away at the sign of any movement. Once we were near the water I got down on my knees to let the youngling off. He smiled regretfully at me then ran towards the water. Taking big sips of it, as if it were the purest Rain. He was gulping it down urgently, like his life depended on it. But he didn’t see the crocodile.
A big ugly thing, with hard spikes and scales covering its long lean body. I panicked and nearly bolted. But something was stopping me. A mothers instinct. So I stood my ground. I trumpeted, loud and shrill. The boy heard and looked around. His eyes stopped on the crocodiles. They had a staring contest. Then he retreated very carefully. Never turning his back to the crocodile. But then the crocodile ran for him.
The youngling screamed, ‘HELP!’. I barged forward, and scooped him up with my trunk. He crawled up my trunk, onto my head then got back into the seat strapped on top of me. Before my cousin suffered from that fatal attack, I would have charged any crocodile head on, but I was wiser now. And besides, I had my young charge to look after. I ran into the Jungle, being careful not to run at the rushing waves. The same waves that belonged to the Sea. That belong to my friend, who has been taken over by evil forces.
CHAPTER 4
The Jungle is a fascinating place. Full of flowers and hundreds of different shades of green. It looks kind and inviting. A place where you would book a holiday. But its not like that. All the bright colours are just there to hide the fact that the Jungle is lethal. All the rulers have children. The Sky has birds. The Sea has fish. The Plains have lions. And so on. But the Jungle has no children. For a time I thought the elephants were the children of the Jungle. But no living creature can rule the Jungle. The Jungle is wild, untamable and lethal.
After the encounter with the crocodile the youngling was shaken. Scared. Like me. When I was only a youngling myself I was scared of the Jungle. As I grew older it became a place of refuge. But after a couple of years I learnt how to be scared of the Jungle. Be scared, without letting that fear control you was the bravest and wisest anyone could be.
All the annoying monkeys were heading up the Trees. Monkeys never face their fear head on, they just hide in their forefather. But for once I was grateful for their cowardice. The last thing I needed was for them to get up to their monkey antics. Ugh, I shudder at the thought to think of some of my more wild encounters with them.
The tigers were running too. But they had no forefather so they could be excused from this. Any animal without one was allowed to run during times of crisis. Those with a forefather were expected to help. At times I was grateful for this and other times I wanted a forefather more than anything. To be the king of something was an honour. Some of the animals, most of the animals had just a certain type of flower or bush. But they weren’t part of the great ones. The powerful ones. The elephants had ivory, but you couldn’t hide in ivory could you. So like the few animals without a forefather I had the same rules. Tigers had lilies. But like ivory, you couldn’t hide in a lilly. It is strange to think that an animal such as a tiger would come from a flower. But flowers are beautiful, delicate and some can be deadly. It is even weirder to think that cats can be allergic to a lilly. But the tigers are like that.
Butterflies have hibiscus. A beautiful, sweet smelling flower. That one makes sense to me. The butterflies are frantically gathering nectar before flying off to safety. I follow them as they know the best places to find safety. I trudge up a hill where I can see the beach, amidst the other panicked animals. Once a calm, peaceful place for getting sun tans had turned into a graveyard. We all stand there together, united as one. I don’t think the youngling notices all the different animals together. Without attacking each other or even snarling.
The boy is sleepy, and I suspect he has just woken up. He gazes down at the beach for a few seconds. Then he looks away. He doesn’t seem to understand what is going on. Then he realizes. All the gears inside of him are whirring and flicking around until they find their answer. He began to cry. ‘My m-m-mum was s-s-swimming down there. B-b-by the h-h-hotel. W-w-where the w-w-water is n-now.’. I trumpet softly, trying to cheer him up. The other animals join in and soon we are the Jungle chorus. Tigers roaring, snakes hissing, toucans and parrots squawking along to my trumpeting. Even the monkeys joined in, as we could hear their screeches from the Jungle.
The tragedy had brought us together. Hummingbirds and butterflies were flying all around us, diving and dipping. The surging tidal waves had been awful, and none of us wanted it to happen. But it did happen and we can’t change that. ‘My n-n-name is W-will.’ the youngling stutters. Well, now he has a name. Will.
Then the chaos starts. A snake sneaks up on a parrot. The bird dies, a terrible death, a painful horrible death. The birds get spooked so they all fly up. The monkeys who were begining to crawl towards us race back into the Jungle. Tigers attack the snake. For tigers are noble creatures, who can’t abide rule breakers. Especially when it ends with ones life ended. The snake is killed quickly. A swift death, one that it did not deserve. It deserved something crueler. But the tigers are merciful. However the snakes don’t see eye to eye with the tigers. Soon there is an all out fight with death everywhere. Death, death, death, an endless cycle.
I have to get Will out of here. He is to young to know death like this. His mother is gone, a victim of the Sea. His father is not mentioned but I have a feeling he is dead. But this death is not like the death he knows. This death is from greed. And no one, no matter their age should know of this. So I flee.
Run. I crash back into the Jungle. Racing past flowers and fruits and creeks. Will is screaming again. But then he stops as quickly as he started. He realised I saved him. If we had stayed I would have been next, and without me Will cannot last in the Jungle. He needs me. But what he doesn’t know is I need him.
Animals are bursting from the clearing on hill. Trying to get away from the chaos. The whole time I know the water is getting closer and the only way to run is around the hill and away from the Sea. Shrieks and cries of pain are everywhere. If we animals knew the secret of Fire, there would be fire everywhere. The song of the mosquitos is our soundtrack as flee. Buzzz, buzzzz, buzzz. This new world is different from the peaceful choir from minutesa go. Will is clutching on to me tight. I would say the rush of adrenaline thrilled me but it doesn’t. Not when animals are dying. Not when betrayal, heart ache and pain is the new way of the Jungle.
After hours of endless running I stop. Will hasn’t eaten in ages and needs food. He also sould have some water. Above us are multicolured fruit beckoning us forward, begging us to eat them. Normally I would be suspicious of such fruit but I have had this type before and know it is safe. I pull big branches loaded with the stuff down so Will can grab at them. He does and every moment I watch him eat, juice dribbling down his pale cheeks, I realise that Night is coming. The Night is coming. I don’t want to ruin this moment. But he needs shelter. And the last place I saw with shelter was the...clearing.
I have no choice. I walk slowly, cautiously back to the clearing. Bodies are everywhere. Will is scared, he doesn’t understand. But below the clearing, in side of the hill, is a little cave. Nights children, the bats stay there. But the bats help lost souls. I am sure Will and I count. The cave is dark, with jagged rocks everywhere. Will seems to understand now. I crouch down, and Will climbs off. After much struggling he pulls the seat off and rest it on the cave floor before curling up it inside it. I can’t go to bed yet. I must see the bats.
Trudging through the cave, sleep beckons me. Come on Oona. It’s nice and warm in here. Just curl up and go to bed. But if I don’t see the bats they will attack us. When I finally get to them, they are kind and considerate about the situation. When they fly in the night they will tell all the other bats that we have safe passage through all the caves and that the bats must protect us. I am grateful and happy.
Curling up next to Will, the world feels right again. I wish i could tell him how much I needed him. How much I loved him. But Will does it for me. He heard me leaving and saw me come back and curl up next to him. ‘I need you Oona, don’t leave me. I love you. You’re my family now.’
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