Elle

Hej.

My name is R.

Just R.

I was born Denmark, I now live in Africa, I'm a girl of eleven, I have raven-black hair, I have silver eyes, I have ivory skin, I'm 5'2''.

That is all you need to know.

Oh, wait, there's something else.

Come here, Elle.

There, good girl.

She's an elephant. That's partly why I named her "Elle", from "Ele".

I adore her. She's my best friend, servant, mother, vehicle, protector, confidant, and the other part of my soul.

It's hard to imagine life without Elle.

In fact, I would not be alive without Elle.

She saved my life when I was taken on my natal day from the country I was born, saved me from the lions that tried to take me for dinner, saved me from a painful, gory death before I even started to live, though she didn't save me from killing lions with my bare hands.

I owe her so much.

In return for her saving me and raising me on her own milk, I saved her from the hunters who wanted her skin, saved her from the guns that tore through the air, saved her from horrendous, corrupted humanity, though I couldn't save her from chipping her tusk on barbed wire.

We live in a peaceful silence, communicating by actions. Sometimes I sing to her, or talk to her. Elle nods and sways her tail and trunk, showing that she understands.

I'm a cold, silent girl who feels comfortable with a knife in my hands and lion blood on my lips.

But I can love, too, even if that love isn't human.

Elle.

My dear elephant.

Come, Elle.