The Giants of Africa (5)
Crack.
Crack-crack.
From far away, the sound of trees breaking reached us.
By sound alone, it seemed like dry branches snapping. But in truth, it was trees so thick that even several adults couldn't wrap their arms around them.
Those trees were now, slowly tilting under the weight of a single elephant's forehead and shoulders.
I held my breath, pressing my mud-caked body flat beneath the grass.
The smell of dry grass and earth stabbed my nose.
The mud dried and hardened on my skin like armor. Insects crawled across my face, but I couldn't lift a hand to brush them away.
If I move now, I'm spotted.
And if I'm spotted, I die.
Because there's no way to outrun an enraged elephant's charge at human speed.
"…Pretty Eyes, do we really have to go this far?"
High Bird whispered beside me, his voice very small.
I turned only my eyes to look at him.
High Bird was covered head to toe in mud, same as me. It was quite a ridiculous sight, but there was no room for laughter now.
"You said you didn't have to follow."
"Can't do that. High Bird helps Pretty Eyes. It's only natural."
"Then stop grumbling about it."
I answered him in a low voice, then turned back to watch through the grass.
We had everything we needed.
Drums. Fire. Tools to make noise.
But having the tools didn't mean we could act immediately.
I needed to know how large the elephant herd was.
How they moved.
How wary they were.
I had to learn all of that.
That was why we were lying in the middle of the grassland, mud-smeared from head to toe, watching the elephant herd.
Crack. Crack.
Another tree groaned and fell.
Once the tree was fully down, other members of the herd came close and began eating the bark and soft leaves.
Using their tusks to scrape the bark was a sight to behold—the sound was like a giant mortar grinding, and the bark peeled away in strips.
Of course, the problem was that those same tusks could be lowered in a charge and turn a human into a shish kebab.
Just as I was watching their strange behavior, High Bird suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me down.
"Hide! The big mother sees us here!"
At his panicked cry, I immediately flattened myself against the ground.
The soft leaves they loved were spread everywhere, yet the herd's leader—the old female—didn't even glance at them. She only kept watch on her surroundings.
The reason she guarded so fiercely was something I didn't need to think about to understand.
Whoop-whoop-whoop!
Whoop?
Whoop!
The young ones were playfully squabbling, throwing dust at each other while making silly crying sounds.
It was precisely to protect those children that she guarded so fiercely.
But…
'Even knowing that, the vigilance is too intense.'
Elephants are careful. Even if they cherish their young, they are among the most powerful creatures on this land.
The fact that they guarded this fiercely meant that some incident had happened not long ago.
While the young ones were tearing at the tasty leaves and nutritious bark…
I noticed one of the calves looking slightly off.
Mud—black mud—was caked across its body. For a young elephant that couldn't regulate its body temperature, mud on its skin wasn't unusual.
But the mud was thicker than on the others, and there were spots that hadn't dried. That caught my eye.
And compared to the other playful, greedy eaters, this one alone was limping badly, and after its mother chewed some bark for it, it barely ate any before sitting down.
'Is it injured?'
The elephants had started attacking humans only days ago.
During the dry season, elephants had gathered here among the animals, but we had kept a relationship where we simply passed each other without confrontation.
'If it's injured, when did it get hurt?'
If that much mud was caked on its body, and the undried patches were from bleeding…
Then the wound on that young elephant might not have been old.
I tried to focus my gaze on the sick-looking calf, but the adults began closing ranks around the young ones, and I lost sight of its details.
The moment I leaned my head for a closer look, High Bird pulled me back.
"Pretty Eyes, too dangerous. The Earthshakers will find us once they're done eating."
With those words, I had no choice but to retreat, leaving the unease behind.
So we crept backward, slowly, like crawling.
We couldn't stand up until we were far enough away that even large movements wouldn't catch the elephants' attention.
Back at the lakeshore, I gathered the people immediately.
The injured calf weighed on my mind. But I couldn't back down.
If the elephants kept blocking the grassland, people would starve.
I drew three lines in the dirt with a branch.
"Front—cries. Middle—drums and shouting. Back—smoke."
The people swallowed their breaths.
"We're not going to kill them. We're pushing them away. Open the path. Don't go toward the side with the young ones. Especially don't go near the injured calf. Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"If we go that way, the big mother will come to kill us."
Their faces hardened at those words.
I didn't explain further. What they needed right now wasn't long speeches. They needed a reason not to run.
I dipped my fingers in the red earth laid out on a piece of bark and smeared it across my face.
Over that, I drew black lines with charcoal. I painted my eye sockets yellow with yellow clay.
Red face.
Black lines.
Yellow eyes.
It was paint that hid the face while simultaneously creating a new one.
"Cover yourself just like I did."
At first, no one moved.
But soon, one person gathered the red mud.
Then another.
Then another.
The fear didn't disappear.
The elephants' feet didn't get lighter. Their tusks didn't dull.
But now the fear no longer showed plainly on their faces.
It was buried under the mud.
I beat my chest with my blackened hand.
Thump.
"Today we don't go as people."
Thump.
"We go as warriors of fire. Warriors whose fire doesn't go out."
The red-faced ones stared at me.
"We're not trying to win. We're pushing them back. Because this is our land."
I slowly drew a breath.
This wasn't a spell that gave courage.
It wasn't the power to defeat elephants.
It was just a device to keep from running.
That was enough.
Because we didn't need to win.
We just needed not to fall.
The dusk was settling in.
It was neither night nor day.
Future people would call this the time of dogs and wolves.
In that ambiguous light, strange-faced figures walked out onto the grassland.
Wiiiiooooong!
Wiiiiooooong!
Wiiio Wiiiio Wiiiiooooong!
A sound that was like a bull's bellow, and also like a thousand insects taking flight at once, rippled across the grassland.
The animals hiding in the grass reacted first.
Birds erupted from every direction. Small creatures shrieked and fled. The meadow seemed to come alive with trembling.
But among that pandemonium, there were some who didn't run.
Large, heavy, grey bodies.
Four pillar-like legs pressing into the earth.
Long tusks that gleamed white even in the darkness.
The giants of the grassland.
WHOoooOOOoo!
They cried out.
As if they didn't like the strange sound. As if they were re-declaring who owned this grassland.
And in that moment—
Thwung!
Another sound rang out.
Thwung! Thwung! Thwung!
A sound like distant lightning. Like boulders splitting on a mountainside.
Thwung thwung thwung thwung thwung!
Wiiiiooooong!
Thwung thwung thwung thwung thwung!
Wiiiiooooong!
The drumbeats and the bullroarers' wail intertwined.
I couldn't tell where the sounds were coming from. I couldn't tell what was making them.
The sound didn't come from one place.
It rose from the front, spread from the side, and surged again from behind.
The elephant herd's ears all flapped at once.
The calves burrowed under their mothers' bellies.
The young females turned their bodies to shield the young.
And then, at some moment—
Whoosh.
Firelight erupted at every edge of the grassland.
Burning grass.
White smoke rising from wet leaves.
The acrid smell of dry bark catching fire.
Like sunlight being stolen as it faded, bright light bloomed across the grassland, thick and pungent smoke seeped in, and pale haze rolled through.
WHOoo!
WHOo!
WHOooOOO!
The herd was thrown into confusion by the sudden sounds, lights, and smells.
Massive shadows collided against one another.
But at the center of it all—
The old mother didn't move.
Only she, with calm eyes, silently watched all of it.
She saw the firelight.
She smelled the smoke.
She gauged the direction of each sound one by one.
Then she slowly turned her head.
As if she knew that all of this was not some strange phenomenon, but a human affair.
I tightened my grip on the drumstick.
'Please.'
We hadn't come to kill them.
We had come to reclaim the grassland.
Starving, we had come because we couldn't afford to kill each other.
But if that old mother took even one step forward—
From that moment on, no one could guarantee they would come back alive.
Thwung!
I struck the drum again.
On that signal, the red-painted faces all shouted at once.
"Haaaaaa!"
"Uuuuuu!"
"Aaaaaa!"
That was not a human voice.
It was the cry of those who saw themselves as sound.
Who saw themselves as smoke.
Who saw themselves as fire and one.
The warriors of fire.
Thwung thwung thwung thwung thwung!
Wiiiiooooong!
Thwung thwung thwung thwung thwung!
And at some moment—
The elephant herd retreated.
Just a little.
But clearly.
One step.
[Various pigments made from earth (AI-generated)]
Earth is one of the oldest pigments.
From the cave paintings our ancestors drew on cave walls, to the vast frescoes that decorated the ceilings of great cathedrals.
The cheap and beautiful colors extracted from earth and minerals were reborn in countless forms through the hands of painters over a very long time.