Derek woke with a start, as if thrown from his dream. Lying curled on his side in the swaying hammock, he blinked as the bush filled his eyes. Relieved to see the top of the sun’s head bobbing above the trees, marking the end of his first night away from camp, he took a steadying breath, wiped his face, and rolled onto his back.
And there, hovering above him like a storm cloud, was Shawu’s enormous head. He instinctively stopped moving and held his breath. Her front legs, concrete pillars that were each taller and heavier than any man, stood barely inches away from him. Her tusks hung like a pair of executioner’s swords awaiting a king’s order. She seemed to be deciding what to do with him, with the tiresome creature who had become her self-elected travel companion. Allowing himself a flurry of short and sharp breaths, he tried to calm himself. Had he imagined their connection? Despite all his attempts at winning her over, did she still associate him with the poachers that had claimed her family? Was this the moment when she was going to exact her revenge by trampling him to death? He thought of what his options were and realised they were all futile. If she indeed wanted him dead, then that was precisely what was going to happen. All he could do was remain still and hope that his instincts had been right.
But as the seconds ebbed away, so did his concerns. The more he studied her, the more he became certain that she meant him no harm. Instead of aggression or anger, her mood was one of curiosity, as if she had simply come in for a closer look, to discover more about the diminutive shadow that insisted on trailing behind her. The longer she hovered over him, the more serene she appeared. Nothing in her demeanour suggested any belligerence at all. There was no violence in her eyes, but rather a softness and a sense of intelligence and wisdom.
Revelling in the experience now, he watched through widening eyes as she slowly lowered her trunk towards him. Without thinking, he inched out a hand. ‘Hello … Shawu,’ he whispered, as her trunk gently dabbed the side of his arm. He smiled at her and she tilted her head a fraction. She watched him intently, but it was more than just a look. It felt as though she were boring through skin and bone, to the very marrow of who he was.
Feeling increasingly as though he were wading through a wonderful dream, her trunk reached up to his unkempt hair and then, grasping a handful of dishevelled locks, gently lifted his head. Maybe I am dreaming, he thought briefly. A sense of wonderment flowed through him as she carefully moved his head from side to side. Despite the phenomenal strength in her trunk and the fact that she could snap his neck on a whim, he could not remember ever feeling more at peace or more fulfilled. It was a remarkable moment.
And then something unexpected happened.
As though discarding a piece of unripe fruit, she let go of his hair and his head bounced hard on the hammock’s taut strings.
Suddenly, there was a look of something else in her eyes.
What the hell was that? he thought, his mind shuddering back to reality.
As she pulled away and began to weave between a row of small trees, returning to the ghost trail that her ancestors had supposedly travelled on for centuries, it all came crashing together. Derek suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Shawu had neither been staring into his soul, nor trying to forge a special connection with him. She had simply come over to wake him up – a twelve-ton alarm clock.
As she turned back to look at him, there was a twinkle in her eyes that Derek thought said it all.
Wake up, you lazy bastard.