The group dissolved into chaos, people yelling and stumbling as they fled. But as the others vanished into the underbrush, Amara found herself rooted in place, her gaze locking with the elephant’s as it slowed, focusing solely on her.
Her mind raced, trapped between a sense of awe and the gripping awareness that this was no gentle, predictable encounter. Every instinct told her to retreat, to follow the tourists’ example and bolt into the trees. But the elephant’s gaze—steady, almost imploring—held her in place.