Elliot drifted past the acacia branches, his toes nowhere near the ground. He flapped his ears and let out a confused trumpet. The hot grass smell vanished below him.
He tried to grab a hanging vine, but his trunk slid off the smooth bark. The savanna shrank beneath him and Elliot thought: What is happening to me?
A yellow baboon swung down from a branch and tossed a chunk of soft moss toward him. Elliot caught it on his trunk and pressed it against his belly. It felt cool and damp.
But the updraft ripped the moss away and lifted him higher still. The baboon chattered and swung back into the branches. Elliot closed his eyes and hoped for something to catch.
A meerkat stood on its hind legs in the tall grass below and squeaked, pointing at a ribbon of shimmering air twisting between the blades. Elliot followed its paw with his eyes.
The ribbon pulsed with faint gold light. Elliot watched it breathe, and a small butterfly landed on his knee. Its wings tickled his skin. The breeze wasn't random—it was a path, calling to him.
The magical wind wrapped around Elliot and swept him into a rapid spiral. He squeezed his eyes shut and trumpeted with delight as the world became a blur of gold and green.
He opened his eyes just in time. The ground rushed up—no, he was rushing down—and then the wind gave him a gentle push that set him softly beside his mother.
Elliot leaned into her side and she rumbled a low happy sound. The herd gathered close, their gray shapes forming a soft protective circle in the tall grass.
Later, Elliot curled up in the cool shade of an acacia tree. His four feet were planted firmly in the warm dirt. He was home.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird called. The herd slept quietly around him. Elliot's trunk twitched once, twice, and he dreamed of floating again among the shimmering ribbons of gold.
In his dream, Elliot's toes did not touch the ground. But this time, he knew the breeze would always bring him back.
