The sanctuary was not such a bad place, Hong Faa decided.
Her own mahout was kind to her, and she never saw a chain, like in the days at the logging camp, or a whip like at the trekking camp where the cruel one tore her ear.
But in her distant memory, she saw the forest, and longed for the daughter taken away so long ago.
And so when the trucks came, Hong Faa went to the gate to wait. But she never saw her daughter.
But one day she saw the beggar calf–a young elephant of seven summers. That awkward age which has so much learning left to do. A calf as dark as forest bark, with the brightest eyes she’d seen in fifty years.
“Kanta,” she heard the young mahout say as he guided her down the ramp. And in her heart, Hong Faa said Kanta too.
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. This week, I wandered away from the cemetery that Pegman landed at and wound up at an elephant sanctuary, where the real-life Hong Faa and Kanta are residents. And from the sounds of it, they’re inseparable.
To read more flash fiction inspired by the prompt, click here.
To learn more about Hong Faa and Kanta, you can check out Elephants World.