Chương 79: Ch 43b – Elephant

"Cara," Crathsun says through gritted teeth, "if you were really my Cadet, I'd have had you running the perimeter of this compound by now, despite the fucking weather. Don't make me beg Wyndeer for the privilege. Now focus." He slides the shard back to her across the table. She keeps her hands in her lap and her eyes on the three pieces of string. Her thoughts, they can barely stay in the room let alone at the table or on the string.

He'd given up on his planned training, deciding she was too distracted to risk anything heavier than the short twists of thread. His task is simple; make each piece move independently of the others, maintain all three moving in different ways for as long as possible. It is a relatively simple task, but she can't keep her concentration. The strings keep sinking like they are being stomped back down by an elephant's heavy foot.

The shard feels different too, as if it is transferring the notions reluctantly, as if she is pushing them through the noise of traffic flowing in the opposite direction.

"Maybe, we can take a break?" she suggests, hearing the misery in her voice. In her lap her thumbnail digs deep into the open sore by the nail on her middle finger. A flap of skin catches, revealing the raw pink flesh. If there is any pain she doesn't register it. A chair scrapes on the floor as Draig shifts in his seat. She looks over to where he has positioned himself further back on the right-hand side. He is frowning at her lap. She quickly pulls her hands back into her sleeves.

Her left hand finds the small pool of sand she had dumped there when she realised that she was still carrying it as she sat down at the table.

"Cara," Crathsun warns, "We've only been doing this for ten. Just concentrate so that we might achieve something today." Behind Draig, Wyndeer and Erro are deep in conversation. Wyndeer's arm is gesturing in wide arcs. Waving his trunk around, she thinks. Her fingers caress the sand in her sleeve. She sits forward.

"Can we try something else Crathsun?" she says, trying to control her shaky voice. She doesn't wait for his inevitable dismissal of the suggestion. Holding her left arm over the table she pours out the sand.

"What? Cara, why have you got sand in your sleeve?" Crathsun asks, somewhere between angry and confused. His hand moves to take hold of the shard.

"Don't worry about that," she replies, not wanting to get dragged into explanations and reprovals.

"Can I try to make something with the sand?"

"Why would you want to do that?" he asks suspiciously. Draig, meanwhile, has sat forward in his seat.

"It's just sand. Instead of moving it from one place to another I just want to see if I can make it into a shape." She tries to paint an innocent expression on her face to alleviate his sudden distrust.

"It might help me focus to think on a shape."

"Sounds basic enough to me," Draig says.

"One try," Crathsun huffs reluctantly.

"Keep it on the table." He releases his grip on the shard and sits back in his chair. Cara licks her dry lips with her dry tongue and picks up the shard. She gives the sand the notion of forming into a ball. The grains of sand rise slowly until they hover a couple of centimetres above the tabletop. The layer vibrates, then slowly clusters as if being loosely balled in a pair of hands. She gives the sand ball the notion of being compacted, so that every grain sits snuggly next to its neighbours.

The surface of the ball curves smoothly. The perfectly spherical ball sits just touching the table top, waiting, as if to take in their admiration of its efforts. She releases her breath. The sand ball crumples into a pile. Draig raises an eyebrow at her, "Did you know you could do that?" His tone is curious not accusatory.

"No," she shrugs, "just tried it out." Crathsun is signalling to Wyndeer.

"Why did you think about trying it?" Draig asks. She searches his face for suspicion but finds none.

"What?" Wyndeer demands, walking up to the table, Erro tagging behind.

"I've just got something stuck in my mind, I thought I'd see if it would work," she answers Draig.

"May I?" she asks Crathsun as her hand hovers near the shard she has dutifully placed back on the table. He nods. She picks up the shard. She gave it the notion of becoming an elephant. Four stumpy legs, a wide round belly, a head balanced by two large protruding flapping ears, a long curious trunk. The sand floats, vibrates, then forms a little sand elephant barely three centimetres high. She pictures the elephant in her mind, giving the sand the notion to refine its rendition guided by her picture.

The elephant's body rounds, the head becomes more distinct, a little wispy tail grows out from its bottom.

"Elephant," says Erro, peering over Wyndeer's shoulder. She smiles at him, then, seeing Wyndeer's narrowed eyes, releases her breath.

"What was that?" Wyndeer demands.

"An elephant," she replies, her stomach clenching as she sits under his displeased glare.

"And what is an elephant?" he asks.

"It's an animal, from- from where I'm from," her voice is breathy as it catches in her throat.

"And how," Wyndeer asks, twisting to look at Erro, "do you know what an elephant is?" Erro's eyes widen. Cara jumps in.

"I told him. I was thinking about an elephant and I described it to him. I wanted to know if you have elephants," she looks to Draig.

"You know, like fish." Draig frowns and tilts his head as he considers her.

"An elephant is a fish?" Wyndeer asks in confusion.

"No, no. An elephant is a large land mammal. It's hard to see with such a small amount of sand." She stands up quickly, seeing the shard is still in her hand.

"I can show you. With more sand I mean." She gestures over to the sandbags. After she has taken two steps she stops, looking down again at the shard in her hand. With a shaky hand she offers the shard back to Wyndeer. He looks at it, at her.

"Show me," he says. She walks to the sandbag she had sat on with Erro, then hesitates. The sandbag is huge, she won't be able to lift it to dump out the sand, and anyway, the hole is small, it will take ages for the sand to flow through. She is about to turn back when Crathsun strides past her with a knife in his hand. He stabs the sandbag, slicing it open with a single forceful swipe straight down the middle. Still with the knife in his hand he picks up the bag and dumps it unceremoniously onto the floor.

He repeats the move with two more bags that he pulls from the sandbag wall.

"Enough sand?" he asks.

"S-sure," she replies in astonishment. He nods at her and marches back to Wyndeer's side. She moves closer to the sandbag wall, creating some space between her and her audience. Creating space for her creations. Taking three long deep breaths, she loads her lungs with extra oxygen as Crathsun has taught her. As she takes the fourth breath, she activates the shard. Elephant. She holds the image in her mind. The old large elephant at the sanctuary.

She crystalises the details; his large flat foot with its round toenails, the wrinkle lines across his long trunk, the stubs of his tusks that had been sawn off to prevent ivory theft, his long eyelashes around his angry eyes. She opens up the image to the sand, giving it the notion to recreate her mind's eye. The sand vibrates, collecting itself in a slowly spinning whirlpool in the centre of the space. It clumps, spreads, then clumps again. As it spread out a second time it builds the elephant from her mind.

The large sand elephant stands tall above her, flapping its ears, curling and uncurling its trunk. It shakes its head from side to side as if shaking away the fuzziness of sleep.

"Elephant," Erro exclaims, impressed with the sand beast that stands before him. She smiles at him. Another image takes hold in her mind. The sand collects inwards, vibrates, then reforms. A shorter animal this time but still imposing in the space. Broad shouldered, and wide hipped, pacing in place on four padded clawed paws, its long snout sniffing at the air. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Bear," Erro beams at her. Next to him Wyndeer and Draig frown.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Draig says to Wyndeer. Wyndeer's frown deepens, he widens his shoulders and tucks his hands behind his back. She feels a coldness creep over her skin. The sand disperses, floating to the ground like snowflakes. Cara watches them fall and group into multiple clusters, reforming into identical versions of a new animal. Penguins. They silently chatter and flap their sand wings. Mirroring the image of a group of black and white penguins in her mind.

The image changes again, the black and white merging and reforming into a new animal in her mind. Zebra. The sand reforms. A sand zebra. Stiff sand mane, flared sand nostrils and elegant sand ears. The image jumps again. Giraffe. A tall, graceful sand giraffe stretches its long sand neck high into the roof of the hall supported by its thin sand legs with knobbly sand knees.

"Cara," Draig calls her name in warning. She doesn't look at him, doesn't look at any of them. She is watching the next animal. Lion. The sand has just finished compiling the sand beast complete with wavy sand mane when it changes again. Rhino.

"Cara, stop," Draig orders.

"Release your breath." The sand quickly collapses and reconstructs. Cow. Sand collapses and reconstructs. Moving faster as her mind cycles through animals. Pig.

"Cara," Wyndeer demands, "stop now!" Horse. Faster and faster, the sand barely finishing the tips of the ears before moving again. Wolf. Ice grips her heart and chest, freezing her to watch as her mind thrusts image after image at her. Lost. Gone. Past. Finished. Everything that she won't see again piling frantically over and over in her mind. Monkey.

"Crathsun," Wyndeer yells beyond the sand. Gorilla.

"Get Erro out of here." Orangutan. Her lungs started to complain about the stale air, but her chest is an icy cage unwilling to release. Tiger. A sharp ping-ping and a long beep sound in her ear. Leopard.

"Cara," Draig's voice is inside and outside of her head.

"Stop. Breathe out." Crocodile. Shark.

"Cara," Wyndeer's voice is firm and controlled in her head, "You're not in trouble. Just release the shard." Dolphin. Sheep. Her lungs tell her to breathe but the images keep flooding in. Her mind too occupied to care about her lungs. Goat. She senses movement. Beyond the sand Wyndeer is circling towards her. Dog. The sand dog bares his teeth at Wyndeer, revealing thick, sharp sand incisors. Sand skin crinkles on its nose and sand fur rises on its haunches. Wyndeer stops.

"Cara, let go," Draig insists in her head. Cat. Not just any sand cat. Her cat. Gran's cat. Mr George. Sand Mr George tilts his sand head. The end of his sand tail curls playfully. Breathe! Her lungs insist. Sand Mr George runs towards her, padding over on his sand paws, his sand tail upright and friendly. She squats down, holding out a hand to pet him. Just before he reaches her, he turns, running back to rub lovingly against sand legs.

Cara stands up slowly as she tracks up the sand legs, up past the sand dress, up to the sand face. Gran's sand face. Sand Gran smiles at her. Breathe! Her lungs demand. Cara tries to swallow but the ice cage and the pressure from her lungs block her throat. Behind Sand Gran is Sand Sarah, and Sand Vix, and Sand Kate, and Sand Josh, and Sand Tom. And more sand people and more. She can't take in all the faces. Can't place their names fast enough. The sand crowd jostles. The sand bodies move and change.

The sand people collapse. A yell forms in the back of her mouth but doesn't release. The sand constructs a new person. Jenny. Sand Jenny is smiling at her. Sand creases at the corners of her sand eyes. Sand forms the perfect roundness of her delicate nose. Her beautiful long sand hair blows in a gentle breeze. Cara steps forward. Her lungs scream for fresh air. Pain slices across her diaphragm. Sand Jenny holds out her sand hand. Cara reaches out. Her fingers brush against Sand Jenny's sand fingertips.

Sand Jenny's face melts and reforms. Mum. Sand Mum smiles. Pain free. Happy. Healthy. Cara tries to smile but the muscles in her cheeks twitch and falter. A sand tear rolls down Sand Mum's face. Cara's vision blurs as tears well then spill down her face. Sand Mum's smile falls. She puts her sand hand across her sand chest as more sand tears trickled down her sand cheeks.

"No!" Cara sobs, weak and breathy, forced to curtail her cry to draw in a fresh breath for her aching lungs. Sand Mum collapses into a pile. The grains of sand tumble and spread wide across the floor.

"No, no, no," Cara pleads in heavy sobs between her gulps for air. She crouches down, plunging her hands into the pile as if she can pull Mum out. Pull Jenny out. Pull them all out.

"No, no, no" she screams, rocking forward, her forehead pushing on the pile of sand.

"Cara," Draig says softly in her head. His voice wrenches her back into the room. Back into their world. Draig and Wyndeer stand unnaturally still. Their hands ready, fingers splayed, at their sides. Their knees slightly bent, their thighs storing energy for a burst of movement. They watch her cautiously.

"Cara," Draig says again gently. His indigo eyes soft with concern.

"No," she shakes her head up at him, "no, I can't do this."

"You can," Draig soothes, "we're going to help you."

"No," she sobs wretchedly, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

"No, I can't." He moves his weight slowly onto his front leg.

"You can, I'm going to help you."

"No," she cries more forcefully, rising up from her crouch. Her hand grips the shard tightly as sprinkles of sand fall to the ground. Wyndeer takes a step forward.

"Don't!" she yells, throwing her hands up at him. The shard gleams in her tight fist.

"Cara," Draig says calmly, "Cara, look at me. It's going to be ok."

"I don't want to do this," she pleads with him. Fresh tears fall, hot and wet.

"I don't want this."

"We will help you," he soothes.

"I can't," her voice breaks. Half her vision is blurred from the rising tears.

"I don't want to be here." Draig takes another step forward. Wyndeer follows. Wyndeer's hands slowly rise above the tear-soaked blur, his palms are open as if he is getting ready to grab her.

"Please," she sobs desperately, "please, I don't want to be here. I can't." They are less than two meters from her. Draig's boot rocks forward, sand crunching underneath.

"It's all gone," she whispers as she rocks back on her heel.

"I'm sorry. I can't." Wyndeer's hips lower as he coils ready to spring. She holds her breath and activates the shard. Sand flies up between them. It collects in thick vertical bars a hands width apart, stretching the full width of the room. A solid fence between her and them.

"Cara," Wyndeer orders in a low, slow voice, "let go." She shakes her head at him through the slits in the bars.

"Cara, don't do this," Draig warns.

"There's nowhere to go." His voice changes into a soft plea, "We will help you." She gives the hangar door the notion to open. It groans and squeaks as it rolls open. The wind rushes to fill every corner of the hall in a frenzied roar. Ripping at her back, trying to push her over, almost knocking the shard from her hand. She squeezes it tighter as she braces against the onslaught at her back. The wind flings debris across the room; sticks, leaves, dirt, stones. Exhilarated to share its collection.

It searches the shelves and cavities excitedly for more treasure, frantic for more things to grab and hurl. The sand fence stands firm, unaffected by the turmoil ripping through the room. She backs towards the open door, her back pushing hard against the rush of air.

"Cara, stay here!" Wyndeer shouts in her head. He is crouching behind the fence, an elbow crooked protectively in front of his face as a large branch whips millimetres from his head. In the doorway the wind roars. She braces herself against the doorframe as the indecisive wind alternates between pushing her back in or carrying her out. Pulling her hair back and forth while it makes up its mind.

"Cara, please!" Draig pleads in her head. His hand holds one of the bars of the sand fence, steadying himself as he watches her through the gap. She steps back. Turns. Runs. The wind screams at her back, thundering loudly past her ears. She continues to hold her breath, the wind giving her no opportunity to draw fresh air. After only five strides the wind overpowers her, thrusting her shoulders too far forward over her knees. She stumbles. Corrects. Stumbles. Her foot rolls over her ankle.

"Cara!" Wyndeer shouts in her head. Her body is too tired, too weak, too heavy for her legs to match the strength of the wind. She trips forward, her knees crashing into the gritty wet ground. Her hands brace for the fall. The skin on her left palm, the knuckles on her right, are scoured unforgivingly by the grit as the wind accelerates the momentum of her slide. The wind does not let her rest on the ground. It flips her. Batters her like a cat playfully pawing at a newly caught mouse. She rolls. Tumbling over.

Back to arm to stomach to arm to back. Over and over. Her face scrapes on the ground. She draws her elbows down, protecting her face with her forearms. Her hands grip the top of her head to hold her arms in place. Somewhere amongst the tumbling she lets go of the shard.

"I'm going after her," Draig yells in her head.

"Draig," Wyndeer shouts, "it's-." Wyndeer's yelp is part shock part annoyance.

"I'm going," Draig shouts.

"Wait for a break in the storm if I don't find her. She'll be in worse trouble if we all get stuck out there." The wind pushes her relentlessly. The gravel underneath her has disappeared, exchanged with scratchy shrubs and capitulating grasses. Nothing is large enough to halt her rolling body, but some are big enough to bump her a little higher into the air allowing the wind to increase her momentum. Draig grunts and swears in her head.

The wind slams her legs into something solid and resistant, terminating her rolling with a painful thud. She flexes her feet, trying to find a hook to anchor her to the stationary object as the wind fights to free her. Her arm battles the wind, flailing for a hold, finding nothing but the rushing damp air. With a roar a stronger gust peels her from the object and flings wildly. She skids on her back, headfirst, along the ground. Her scream is cut short by the sticks and dirt that smack her face as they pass.

She can do nothing but brace, her hands fighting to retain a purchase on the top of her head.

"Cara!" Draig calls out in her head. A sharp pain spears her shoulder as she comes to a second sudden stop. The wind complains angrily, pushing her legs up over her chest, crushing her head against something. With one arm trapped by her body and the other pinned awkwardly up above her, she whimpers her surrender.

"I see her," Draig reports in her head, his voice wavering with his heavy pants.

"Can you get to her?" Wyndeer asks.

"I'm trying," Draig grunts. Something whacks hard at her calf, forcing her knee into her chest. Draig's swears spin in her head. Something pushes at her feet, pushing them against the wind. They wave in the air like a flag.

"Help me out Cara," Draig grunts in her head. A largeness looms over her, stilling the violent air. Draig is in the gap between her arm and the object that had halted her.

"You have her?" Wyndeer asks.

"Cara, you need to get up," Draig says in her head. His hands are clawing under her back, pulling her. Pain slices at the bottom of her neck, down into her shoulder.

"Fuck, I think she's bleeding," Draig says.

"Where? Badly?" Wyndeer demands.

"Cara, up," Draig orders. He rolls her up into his chest. Her arms flop at her sides where the wind tries to snatch them away. Grunting, he as he lifts her, his hands gripping the top of her thighs. He staggers against the wind's protests. As he turns the wind gusts with new found strength, seeking to pull her from his arms. He stumbles backwards.

"I can't," he falters, "I can't make it back. I'm finding shelter." Her head is pressed against his chest by the wind and her lack of strength to move. He slides her carefully to the ground, pushing his chest against her as he props her up against something. Swearing and grunting. Then he picks her up and carries her into silence.