Elephants - Dragons
Morning broke over the facility.
Artificial lights turned on, glowing gold like dawn filtering through mist. The air was still cool, carrying the scent of rain and metal. Paul sat by the containment window, grooming his feathers.
His mind was restless, but he had slept soundly. The calm breathing of the cows seemed to linger in his thoughts. Since arriving here, he’d dreamed often of the past - of the pasture at dawn, of milking by lamplight while moths circled overhead, of memories too natural to require words.
When Ken entered the containment room with a notebook and a cup of coffee, Paul was already awake.
“Good morning,” Ken said.
“Good morning,” Paul replied automatically.
“This place doesn’t sing in the mornings,” Paul added.
“Well, it’s not like we can keep a songbird in containment,” Ken said with a grin.
“In that case, I’m not a songbird, but…” Paul tapped his beak a few times, then began to hum. The low, resonant sound filled the room like the tone of an oboe, echoing softly against the walls before vanishing into the vents.
Ken listened for a moment, then smiled.
“You’ve got a bard’s touch. The veterinary staff would love you.”
Paul’s eyes brightened.
“So there’s more to see?”
Ken nodded.
“Oh, plenty. The world’s big. I saved one you’ll like in particular - but when we meet it, maybe take a step back.”
Paul tilted his head.
“Why’s that?”
Ken sipped his coffee.
“It’s huge.”
The enclosure was enormous, more like an aircraft hangar than a pen. The ceiling stretched high above them, bright lights flooding every corner. The air was warm and smelled of dust and hay.
Before they even entered, a deep rumble shook the floor. Not sound, but vibration - like the earth itself was speaking.
Paul froze, feathers rising.
“The ground is talking.”
Ken said, “That’ll be the big guy.”
Paul turned sharply.
“The what?”
Ken’s voice carried a hint of excitement.
“The elephant.”
The massive gate opened, and an elephant stepped forward.
For a moment, the scale of everything seemed to warp. The creature was colossal - grey, wrinkled skin draped over waves of muscle, vast ears like sails, a trunk that moved with its own mind, and tusks gleaming like carved ivory spears.
Paul stood paralyzed.
When he finally spoke, his voice trembled.
“That’s not an animal, that’s terrain.”
Ken smiled.
“The biggest land animal we’ve got.”
Paul’s chest swelled as if to contain the sight.
“Every breath feels like a storm.”
As the elephant exhaled, a low, dense vibration ran through the floor and up Paul’s legs. He stumbled backward.
“It’s speaking through the ground! How does it do that?”
Ken laughed softly.
“That’s how elephants communicate - using infrasound.”
Paul’s eyes widened.
“Infrasound? That’s how dragons talk.”
Paul took a shaky step forward. The elephant filled his entire vision; he didn’t know where to look first.
“In my world,” Paul said, voice trembling, “the closest thing would be dragons. Patient, powerful creatures. They travel in herds too. They can fly, but only short distances, or over water. Usually they walk, across deserts and plains. The oldest elders lead them.”
“So they’re social animals?” Ken asked, intrigued.
“Extremely,” Paul said. “Families, herds led by elders who remember the paths. Gentle, playful even. But if you harm one…”
He made an explosive motion with his wings.
“They burn everything.”
Ken blinked.
“You mean literally?”
Paul nodded.
“Not magic. A biological mechanism in the throat. They store calcium and oil, then ignite it when threatened. Not for attack - only warning or defense. When they breathe fire, it means you’ve crossed into their territory, not that they want to kill.”
Ken shook his head.
“So they breathe fire and fly - and they’re peaceful?”
Paul snapped back,
“As long as you don’t touch their eggs or young.”
The elephant took a step toward them.
Its eyes held curiosity, calm, and a deep intelligence. It raised its trunk and plucked up a branch.
“It’s attacking,” Paul whispered, trembling.
“Relax,” Ken said. “It’s just moving things. That’s its trunk, not a weapon.”
“If it’s holding something, that’s a weapon!”
“Calm down. It’s fine.”
“Volcanoes are fine until they erupt!”
Ken couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“You, from a world of dragons, can’t handle one herbivore?”
Paul scowled.
“You’d panic too if a dragon appeared right in front of you!”
“Fair point,” Ken admitted.
The elephant tossed the branch aside and swung its trunk toward Paul.
He froze, certain death was imminent - then felt a faint tap.
The trunk brushed the feathers on his crest, then gently poked his beak. It barely registered as a touch.
“It touched me,” Paul said, dazed.
“And you’re alive,” Ken said, smiling.
“It touched me. That’s not natural behavior for something that size!”
“Completely natural.”
“So is death,” Paul muttered.
The elephant rumbled again, a low note that made the floor and even Paul’s chest vibrate.
Steadying himself, he closed his eyes and inhaled.
“So this means… it wants to talk?”
“Exactly. It’s a sign of affection.”
Paul exhaled slowly.
“Dragons do the same. When the herd rests, the elder rumbles through the ground. The young feel it and stop. It’s like the whole earth is breathing. As if the planet itself is saying, ‘I’m here.’”
Ken looked at him softly.
“You miss them?”
“Sometimes,” Paul said quietly. “But this one… this one’s too much.”
He looked back at the elephant.
“This is a mammal? In our world, other than cows, mammals are small and fragile. Here…”
He gave a dry laugh.
“The softest creature on this planet is also the largest.”
Suddenly, the elephant trumpeted.
The sound hit like thunder, filling the hangar like a thousand horns.
Paul shrieked and fell backward.
Ken helped him up, trying not to laugh.
“You okay?”
Paul panted.
“An ambush!”
“It’s saying hello!”
“That’s not a greeting, that’s a threat!”
Ken mimicked Paul’s tone.
“So poetic. You, raised among dragons, terrified by a calm little elephant.”
“Stop calling it calm!” Paul snapped. “That’s not an animal, that’s a natural disaster! There’s no such thing as a calm disaster!”
At Paul’s insistence, they backed away.
From a distance, they watched as the elephant’s trunk swung like a pendulum, sweeping hay across the floor.
Despite his fear, Paul couldn’t help but admire its grace.
“In our world,” he said softly, “the paths of dragons sometimes become borders. No fences, no armies, yet no one crosses. Roads are built around them, kings and emperors alike give way when dragons pass.”
“Out of respect?” Ken asked.
“Out of wisdom,” Paul replied. “No one foolish enough to defy mercy given by power lives long.”
He looked at the elephant again.
“This one’s the same. It has the wisdom of dragons. Just quieter. Its fire burns inward instead of out.”
When they left the enclosure, Paul said nothing.
Ken broke the silence first.
“You’re unusually quiet today.”
Paul glanced sideways.
“Recovering from emotional trauma.”
Ken chuckled.
“The quiet kind of trauma?”
“The kind involving flight, fire, and collapsing buildings,” Paul said dryly.
They walked in silence for a while.
Then Ken added,
“Yesterday you were a philosopher with cows. Today you just wanted to run. What happened to the wise poet?”
Paul sighed.
“Survival instincts took the wheel.”
Ken laughed.
“Still can’t believe it. You grew up with dragons, and a vegetarian got the better of you.”
Paul bristled.
“If I could bring a real dragon here - ”
Ken burst out laughing.
“Alright, alright, sorry!”
Paul clicked his tongue.
Researcher Ken Lee - Observation Log
Paul entered a state of panic throughout the observation. Every movement of the elephant seemed to trigger fear.
It appears that in his ecosystem, a dragon-like reptilian descendant of pterosaurs fills the same ecological role as elephants.
Their biological fire emission has no equivalent on Earth; the closest comparison might be the bombardier beetle’s chemical reaction.
Further study recommended. Psychological counseling for Paul Tree advised.
