The afternoon sun cast a burning light on Ram's back as the wind licked the heat off his sweaty skin. He gripped the sides of the bison with his ankles as it waded through the shallow brown watering hole. It bowed its great grey head slowly into the murky water, drinking deeply before raising back up to shake the water out of its nose. Ram ran his hands down the smooth neck of the docile beast and leaned forward, closing his eyes to listen to its breath. A low rumble jerked up and down its long throat and its sides expanded with each inhalation.

In the distance, Ram could hear the crashing sound of Mr. Rajesh striking the giant circle plough that hung off the bison pen. The single strike echoed throughout the savannah, down to the watering hole. The beasts began to shake the flies off their horns, stamping...

Issue Section:
Short Fiction
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