Only dried grasses stirred within the domed savannah. He’d always had to live alone. I waited by his favourite baobab.
Before spotting his lumbering form, I sensed his mind. His, and another’s. My stomach clenched – we were promised the holidays.
He welcomed me with eager, gentle strokes of his scarred trunk – no sorrow, your doctors healed someone.
Then I saw her. A tiny goat, atop his shoulders, her surgical scars still fresh, mind wide with wonder, reaching for us – home?
He nuzzled her with his trunk – home.
Soon, I’d have to leave again. This time, they’d have each other.
© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner
December 2: Flash Fiction Challenge « Carrot Ranch
In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes the littlest Christmas goat. Who does the goat belong to? What is happening? Go where the prompt leads!
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