“There, seeker,” intoned the elder pachyderm. “In that grove you will find the entrance to the underworld.”
Abhita swallowed once and clutched her sitar.
“Very well, I am ready. Lead on.”
“No, I go no further,” the tusk-less male replied. “Elephants never descend into the shadows, whether for dream-jewel or life-treasure. Pursue your dead child on your own.”
Abhita strummed a brash chord that sent birds into flight and made the pachyderms many necklaces jangle.
“What kind of faithfulness is that?” she snapped. “You agreed to guide me to my child, in honor of your own slain offspring, you said.” Abhita jabbed the neck of her instrument at the wrinkled elder. “Now, with both in reach, you abandon me for nothing but some old proverb?”
The male rustled himself larger.
“Transient are the desires and memories of humans,” he rumbled, blasting a puff of air from his trunk. “We pachyderms keep ever in mind the wisdom of our forebears. Just so do we hold tight the memory of those we’ve lost.” He turned away. “We do not chase after their spirits because of our own restlessness.”
At his words, Abhita’s brows lowered, and she strummed a low note.
“If you could truly not forget them, you would do anything to come with me and free them!” She spun and marched down into the grove.
Behind her, the pachyderm lifted a string of tiny teeth from among his many necklaces. The fingers of his trunk danced over each bone, while wetness in his eyes obscured all else.