The animal took another step.
Twenty feet.
The air inside the vehicle thickened with the dry smell of dust and something deeper beneath it—dry roots, bruised leaves, crushed grass.
The elephant stopped again.
Its trunk hung in the air.
Testing.
Nick’s voice came low beside me. "Do. Not. Move."
Not moving.
His voice vibrated through my ribs. He shifted his weight, his shoulder brushing mine as he angled his body toward my side of the jeep.
I stayed frozen, not because of the six-ton animal, but because Nick’s arm was the only steady thing in the jeep.
The elephant studied the vehicle for another long moment.
Then the trunk lowered.
The massive head turned slightly.
And the animal stepped forward again, straight toward us.
If this is a negotiation, the elephant wins.
Chapter 5
Follow-Up Questions
NICK
Guestsusuallypanickedwhenan elephant walked straight toward the vehicle. Juliette Wilder had follow-up questions.
Because panic would make too much damn sense.
The bull held there another few seconds, trunk lifted, ears slack now instead of spread. Dust shifted around its feet. The herd behind it stayed still, broad gray bodies half lost in the brush.
I turned the ignition key one notch. Not enough to start the engine. Enough that it would answer if I needed it.
Beside me, Juliette didn’t move.
Fear usually gave itself away. Hand to the mouth. Breath catching. Knees shifting under the seat like there was somewhere to go.
She sat with her notebook closed against her thigh, both hands resting on top of it, fingers flat. Spine straight. Eyes on the elephant. Eye to eye.
The bull lowered its trunk.
It lowered. Its fucking. Trunk.
One step to the side. Then another. The head turned. The shoulder followed. Six tons of old muscle and dry hide drifted back toward the herd like we’d bored it. It didn’t even give us the dignity of a parting glance.
Just… dismissed us.
I’d spent years learning how to command a clearing. In two seconds that bull had demoted me to stationary scenery.
