Coming Out of the Deep
“Yep. King of the jungle.”
My father frowned. “This is a king?”
“No,” Lake chuckled. “Just a saying.”
Then we reached them, the ones so big, and I stopped walking entirely. They were unlike anything I had imagined—enormous and quiet. Their skin looked like cracked stone, and their movements were slow but wise, their ears flapping gently.
“What are they?” I whispered.
“Elephants,” Lake said, turning to watch my face.
“They look like stone whales with legs,” I murmured, stepping closer to the railing, resting my hand on the metal bar, watching as one of them slowly made its way toward the edge of the enclosure.
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