The hot season seemed to begin the very next day and the final wisps of white cloud were melting into the deep blue sky. Though the canopy of the forest protected its inhabitants from the direct sun, at this time of year it also served to capture and bake the air within it. Jasmine flowers that had bloomed a lunar month ago struggled to make their scent stand out amidst what was now an pungent sea of warm rotting leaves and overripe fruit. On a normal day, anything with fur, hair or hide would be snoozing as the sun reached its peak and the forest would be as silent as midnight at this time. Yet this was not a normal day. It certainly wasn’t a normal year either and even in the midday heat, Buttersweet camp was alive with the sound of hammers knocking out rhythms on wooden beams and timber chains clanking and jangling as they dragged fresh logs into the clearing. There were shouts, grunts, laughter, and the occasional song that rang out through the hot afternoon as the two land animals with the least hair in the forest built their home into what they hoped would be a fortress. Men and elephant alike were so busy that to the falcons that flew high on the airstreams above the forest, Buttersweet resembled a startled anthill.

Their claim had to be defended.

Two days later, a messenger from Blackstone village arrived in the early morning with two demands: Zaw and Seng Nu were to leave the camp immediately and Pinkwetha was to be captured and killed. “The elephant is a danger to others and must be put down.” said the messenger, who spoke in a defeated tone that suggested he already knew that he would have to trudge back through the jungle with the request unfulfilled.

The men stared at him for a while. Wondering who would speak first. If they had given in then, Gunthaw would probably have forgiven them, and put it all down to a touch of hot season madness to save face all round.

“He’s only a danger to those who raise a hand against ladies,” spat Dai at the messenger. “or perhaps a young man like yourself enjoys hitting women?”.

The messenger, who had been sent by Gunthaw that morning, blushed deeply. They were not his demands. “Any men who refuse to carry out these orders will be dismissed from work” he stuttered.

“I think Dow Som and Gunthaw are mistaken” said Sut, who was wearing a cocky smile like a medal. “They can’t dismiss us. We’ve already dismissed them”. Even some of the camp men raised their eyebrows at this. It wasn’t what was said, it was who was saying it. Just a few days ago the idea that Sut, who still pretty much a boy in the eyes of the world, could say such a thing about his elders, was unthinkable. The world had turned.

The messenger could say nothing in response and he left the camp. Even after he had walked a fair distance back down the jungle path, he could hear the laughter and cheering of thirty four men, one girl and ten elephants.

The rebuke of the messenger had given the camp their first chance to declare independence to the outside world, and there was strengthened sense of camaraderie and bravado, especially among the younger members like Sut, who rushed to the palmwine stores to begin dishing out what he called ‘victory cups’ to the men. Dai stopped him and cautioned that there was no time for celebration. They had not won anything yet. It was time for work. As he drove his shovel into the baked earth, Dai began to sing. Those who knew the words, joined in and those who didn’t soon picked it up. And as the wood was chopped and the earth was dug, the hammers and spades dug out a rhythm to old songs of new rebellion.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

There had never actually been much of a physical gate to Buttersweet, just a place where the forest path opened into the clearing. But now they were building a wooden wall that would be almost as tall as Uncle Jaseik. Some of the men opened up Dow Som’s house and found a cache of weapons hidden away in a storeroom.. The bows and the swords were supposed to protect the camp in case of an invasion from The Mountain, but no one could remember them ever being used.

Zaw and Seng Nu were at the timber shed, directing Pinkwetha and his Aunt Chosone to carry the logs to the rapidly rising front gate. Zaw and Pinkwetha had made up in the weeks following the incident that cripped Zaw. He understood that the animal was not in his right mind when he went on the rampage, and that any attempt to keddar an elephant always brought a risk that the intensity of the training would lead to this. The young elephant had been bashful in the days after but when Zaw offered him fresh bamboo shoots left over from the kitchen, they were back to being friends again.

Seng Nu was using her own abilities to nudge and adjust the heavy stacks of timber attached to the chains. Though it appeared that she was directing the logs with her mind, it was actually the living wind that was responding graciously to her thoughts. Given a firm and yet polite request, it could form zephyrs of power in the tiniest of areas, creating the force necessary to lift such huge weights.

Zaw was looking out on the camp marvelling at the ant’s nest of activity. “I should ask you if we are all under your spell too, Seng Nu” he chuckled.

Seng Nu hesitated as she was taken back to the stormy night where she…

We’re not under a spell, my son”. Kon had arrived with Chyarmanine trotting behind him.

Seng Nu was jolted back to the present “And neither are the elephants!” she said, and reached up to greet Auntie Chyar with a smile and a scratch behind the ears.

“It wasn’t just the rice gift, you know that Zaw” said Kon, unstrapping the metallic chains from Chyarmanine’s bulky torso. “The master has been pushing us too far for years now. Extending the logging seasons, reducing our home leave, fining us for not harvesting enough timber, even in landslide conditions. They pushed us and pulled us and now we’re rolling down the other side of the mountain.”

Zaw frowned, not quite getting the exact metaphor. He couldn't think of anything that was pushed up a mountain. But he understood Kon's meaning.

We’ll follow Seng Nu, not because she has enchanted us, but because we want to.” Kon had never been one to show his age, but in these past few days it was almost as if he was getting younger. His eyes were more brighter than usual and even his skin seemed to shine.

“And now, I want to have some food,” he said walking out and towards the kitchen.

“You’re always eating Uncle, are you sure you’re not enchanted?” Zaw called after him, but Kon was already making his way across the camp ground.

“No he’s not!” yelled Seng Nu and she ran over to Zaw with a fist raised and a wide grin.

“Don’t enchant me too!” said Zaw who made a move to run, but was too slow for Seng Nu’s playchase as she leapt onto his back and wrapped her arms around his head. His leg gave way and with a grunt he collapsed to the ground taking her with him. His hands shot to his leg and his face contorted in pain.

Seng Nu leapt back and lifted her hands up in apology. “Zaw! Are you ok? I’m so sorry”

Zaw continued to grit his teeth and clench his eyebrows for a moment more, until his face unravelled into a broad smile, revealing his artifice.

“Don’t do that!” yelled Seng Nu, who leapt on him again and battered his chest lightly with her fists. She was smiling too now. Zaw grabbed her wrists to defend himself and they were rolling together on the floor.

The door to the shed slammed shut.

Standing up, with faces red, Zaw and Seng Nu stood up and awkwardly brushed the dust off. No one was there. Only Pinkwetha was at the other end of the shed. The young elephant giggled at them, the way elephants do.