27
Not many things frightened her, but today she was scared.
It had been many years since she’d heard the clatter and whine of the machine that close above her. It swarmed around her like a huge angry bee. While she could fend off an attack by a pride of lions with her trumpet-blast scream and a flick of her mighty trunk, she hated bees.
She turned her face to the sun and spread her ears wide, then raised her trunk to sniff the air and scare it with her silhouette. She caught the oily stench of it, but it wasn’t scared by her display.
She’d heard the popping in the distance earlier. It was something else she associated with the coming of the noisy flying beast. After the noise had died, in those years gone by, she had visited the bones of the others. She had sniffed them, rolled them w
