God only knows how it ended up in the middle of Ireland to begin with.
I mean an elephant in Goulin is one thing, but the still-moving rotting corpse of one?
Utterly unthinkable.
Yet there is was in a sort of half crouch position in an old farmhouse.
Most of its trunk had already decomposed and the rest of it wasn't much better.
Half a ribcage openly exposed, the flesh underneath a mottled brown colour, ears shredded.
Its eyes were untouched though, they seemed perfectly healthy even.
There were multiple abrasions around the neck, chest and along the forehead.
Perhaps someone or something had tried to put it out of its misery?
It didn't seem miserable though, resigned and a little afraid but not unhappy.
Food held no temptation for it, no matter what I offered it wouldn't move towards me.
Eventually I moved to it, slowly and with open body language.
The closer I got, the further away it tried to move until one of its legs snapped off.
A small cloud of red dust gushed out where blood should have and the stench of rotting meat
filled the air, making me choke on my breath and step back a few paces.
It slumped onto its side, head raised and gaze still fixed on my every movement.
Pulling my scarf over my mouth I walked up to it and knelt by its side.
The fear left its eyes and it lowered its head, seemingly exhausted.
I saw the unnatural life leave its eyes as I gently stroked its mauled face.
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