The afternoon sun blazed down from a hazy blue sky, filtering through the thick canopy of towering trees in the deep jungle. Heavy heat mingled with the moisture still rising from the muddy ground. Water stains and dark mud left by the morning's work clearing a path for hauling logs along the stream had begun to dry into stiff, crusted tracks—black and sticky beneath the wheels. Woodpeckers and green pigeons called from the distant treetops, mingling with the wind that periodically stirred the takian leaves in a rush, like the faint, steady breathing of an ancient forest.
Plai Saen strode forward with heavy, steady steps, leading the walking party through a mountain ravine to survey the inner forest according to the logging camp's plan. The brass bell tied around his neck rang out—jingling... jingling...—echoing along the rocks and mountain ridges, its steady rhythm lending a little comfort to the overwhelming silence.
Kham sat expertly atop the bull elephant's neck, his legs gripping the bases of its ears to control its direction. One hand held the strap of his coarse-cloth shoulder bag, while Father Nil's heirloom knife in its golden-takian sheath was secured carefully at his waist. His sharp eyes swept over the giant vines and massive tree trunks. The tension from the incident in the streambed that afternoon still smoldered inside him, yet the thing that made the seventeen-year-old's heart resolute and mature was his responsibility as the principal mahout, trusted by everyone at the logging camp.
"Kham... Hold up!"
Ming's rough, urgent whisper came from behind. He raised a hand to signal the party to stop. The two other burly workers following with axes, saws, and a huge coil of rope halted at once. Their hands tightened instinctively around their ax handles and shotguns, wary of danger.
Plai Saen stopped. It raised its trunk high and drew in the scent of the forest wind blowing through the ravine. Its great ears fanned slowly, driving away the biting flies, before it gave a soft rumble in its throat. Rrrr... rrrr... But this time, the sound from Kham's trusted companion did not carry the fear it showed when facing hidden forces or ghosts. It was sensing a "human intruder" on the ground.
"What is it, Ming?" Kham asked, looking down from the elephant's back. Samchoke's eyes carefully scanned the surrounding area.
"There... Look at those reeds by the stream." Ming pointed with a trembling hand toward a tangle of cogon grass and dense undergrowth along a small stream branching off from the main creek.
On the muddy bank lay a trail of small, bare human footprints sunk deep into the mud. The tracks wandered stubbornly and aimlessly, showing that whoever had made them was dangerously weak. Not far away, beneath the shade of a giant banyan whose tangled roots formed a hollow, a young woman lay curled up unconscious on a bed of dry leaves.
She was emaciated. Her faded, coarse city-style clothes were torn and spattered with red dirt and mud, along with crusted blood from where branches and jungle thorns had scraped and cut her slender arms and legs. Her body shuddered at intervals from fever and utter exhaustion. But what made Kham's heart jolt was the arm she had wrapped tightly around a little girl of perhaps four or five, clutching the child to her chest. The little girl's face was smeared with dirt, her cheeks sunken, her eyes barely closed, and her breath as faint as a tiny candle flame in a strong wind.
"They're... they're real people, Kham!" Ming exclaimed, his voice trembling and his eyes wide. "This far in? How could a woman and a child be lying here, this deep in the takian forest and this cursed ravine? Or maybe it's a water ghost disguised as a person, trying to trick us again!"
"What kind of water ghost leaves blood, sweat, and thorn wounds like these?" Kham replied in a low, firm voice. "Ghosts don't have flesh and blood. This is just a poor soul in trouble."
Kham ordered Plai Saen to lower itself gently. The bull elephant obediently knelt in the mud. Kham slid down to the ground with practiced agility, his right hand instinctively touching the hilt of the ritual knife at his waist, then slowly approached the giant banyan in silence.
The dry leaves crunching beneath Kham's feet made the young woman jerk. Her swollen, bruised eyes struggled open. They were filled with fear, confusion, and despair, like those of a wild mother trapped in a thorn snare with nowhere to run. She stubbornly tried to push herself upright, her emaciated body trembling, but her shaking hands still tried to shove the little girl behind her back, shielding her from danger.
"Don't... don't hurt my child..." Her voice was so dry and hoarse that it was barely intelligible. "I... I have nothing for you... Please don't hurt my child..."
Kham stopped about two paces away so she would not feel threatened. He lowered himself respectfully to his knees, unfastened the dried-gourd canteen from his waist, and slowly held it out.
"We're workers from the logging camp... not criminals or bandits," Kham said gently, though his voice remained firm and steady. "Have some water first, ma'am. We won't hurt you or your child."
The young woman stared at Kham's face. His keen eyes, sun-bronzed skin, and the honest, guileless gaze of a young hunter from elsewhere slowly melted the suspicion in her heart. She reached out with a trembling hand covered in scratches and took the gourd canteen, clutching it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. She lifted it and drank ravenously, water spilling down her chin, then gently tipped a few drops onto her little daughter's parched lips.
The little girl slowly opened her eyes. Clear and bright yet dulled by exhaustion, they focused on Kham. Frightened, she snuggled closer to her mother's chest, but her eyes remained fixed on the ritual knife in its takian-wood sheath at Kham's waist and on Plai Saen, standing calmly behind him as if the sight were miraculous.
"Mama... the elephant's so big..." the little girl whispered faintly.
Kham gave a small smile, his first in several days, soft and tender. He pulled a cloth bundle containing cooked rice cakes and a small packet of dried meat from his shoulder bag and held it out to the woman. "Eat first, both of you. Then I'll take you back to the camp to rest."
The woman snatched up the food bundle. With immense tenderness, she broke the rice into small pieces and fed her daughter first before finally putting the rest into her own mouth. Tears of gratitude and pent-up emotion spilled through the mud on her sunken cheeks.
"What's your name? And how did you end up this deep in the forest?" Kham asked curiously as he sat and waited for her to relax.
The young woman swallowed the food past her parched throat and let out a long, anguished sigh. "My name is... Kham Kaew... and my daughter's name is... Oei... I came from the northern village... My husband went into the ravine looking for food and hasn't come back in days. I took my daughter to search for him, until we got lost in this ravine... I stepped on thorns and wandered in the wrong direction for three whole days. We had nothing to eat, until I came down with jungle fever and passed out here..."
Kham listened to Kham Kaew's story, his chest aching. A mother's love had driven her to risk death and struggle into the deep forest with her child in search of her husband. It reminded him of the endurance and courage Father Nil had taught him when speaking about protecting one's family.
"What about your husband?" Ming blurted from behind them.
Kham Kaew lowered her head, tears dripping onto the dirt. "I found... his bloodstained pha khao ma lying near the upper creek bed... I know he probably didn't make it... but my child and I couldn't find our way out of this forest..."
Ming came closer, frowned, and whispered into Kham's ear. "Kham... what are we gonna do? Will Chief Suea even agree? Our camp is full of tough male workers, and hauling logs is hard and dangerous work. If we bring a woman and her kid to stay with us, that'll break the camp rules. And won't the workers start gossiping?"
Kham rose to his feet, his muscular body straightening. His eyes shone with determination. "If Chief Suea won't agree, I'll split my wages and give up my share of the food for them myself. Someone this helpless, with jungle fever threatening her—are we supposed to leave her here for wild animals or the fever to finish off? Ming... help me support Kham Kaew. I'll carry the child."
Kham Kaew looked up at the sturdy young man before her, tears of gratitude and thanks streaming without end. She raised her hands in a wai, offering Kham the deepest respect in her heart.
Kham approached the little girl. He crouched, then gently lifted the emaciated, fever-hot body of little Oei into his strong arms. The child obediently nestled her face against Kham's shoulder, as if she could sense the warmth and safety offered by this young hunter from elsewhere.
Kham Kaew struggled to stand, with Ming supporting one of her arms. Slowly, the walking party set off toward the logging camp where the workers stayed.
The first threads of a bond between the young hunter from elsewhere, the young mahout, and the widowed mother with a child began to weave themselves quietly amid the peaceful silence and dangerous wilderness that would surround them from this day forward.