When the reporters had asked about the mammoths, Luis had provided pithy explanations and deferred all science questions to the geneticist he worked for. He’d downplayed Major Butterick’s shoot-to-kill mission, saying only that the military was involved in all aspects of Project Hannibal.
“It’s unfortunate the major was injured during the rescue,” he’d added. “The real hero here is State Wildlife Trooper Robbie Kanut. His courage and inventiveness made the rescue possible.”
Within hours, all the national and even international media had broadcast photos lifted from Sera’s phone. The story was only enhanced by the news that a Russian spy had attempted to steal two of the precious mammoths.
With all the publicity and a surge of national pride—and perhaps to avoid the revelation of embarrassing details—the administration in Washington had declared themselves solidly in support of reviving mammoths. Mammoths were named the US national mammal, their image to be placed on newly minted quarters. Canada declared their border open to mammoths. Donations for the brand-new Save the Mammoths Foundation, chaired by Luis with Estelle, Sera, and Annie as honorary co-chairs, had come pouring in.
And now, pregnant mammoths Silver and Gold had been airlifted to the tundra meadow where they were momentarily expected to be rejoined with the rest of the herd. And two hundred yards away, Luis, Sera, and Estelle and a host of cameras were waiting to film the reunion in a new documentary about the mammoths.
“I’m so excited,” Sera told the rolling cameras. “Silver and Gold have been grazing here since yesterday. After they were first released from the transport container, they were quite agitated, but they seem to have calmed down now.” Estelle marveled at how easily Sera spoke, already an old hand at interviews.
Sera glanced over her shoulder as a camera zoomed in on Gold nuzzling Silver. Long fur, humped shoulders, furred trunks, and upturned tusks filled the monitor. “They were separated from the other mammoths weeks ago, as part of a bizarre scheme to steal them and send them to Russia. But now, they’re just minutes away from rejoining their herd—their family. From the transponders that the adult mammoths are tagged with, we know the herd is close, but we don’t know . . . that is . . .” She gulped. “We don’t know yet whether the baby I watched being born a month ago is still with them.”
A few yards away, Luis looked up from his new laptop and spoke to the director. “Tell the cameras to get ready. The herd’s just on the other side of the ridge.”
As if they’d heard him, Silver and Gold raised their heads. Two trunks poked upward.
The director whispered into his mike. “They’re coming. Everybody on their toes.”
Cameras panned the northeast ridge—except for one that kept focus on Sera’s face. Eyes shining, lower lip caught under her teeth, she clasped her hands as if in prayer.
Estelle added her own silent petition. Please, Lord, for Sera—one more miracle. Let baby Jade be all right.
A dark lump appeared on the horizon, then another and another. The mammoth herd came into view, massive heads nodding with each swaying step.
The herd leader paused, trunk raised into a question mark.
Sera covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes glistening on the verge of tears. Estelle put an arm over her shoulders.
Trumpeting like buglers on a binge, the mammoths rushed down the hill. They greeted Silver and Gold with squeals and snorts, twining trunks together in joyful reunion.
Sera stood on tiptoe, straining to see more.
“There!” she whispered. A mother mammoth topped the ridge and sedately followed the others, a miniature mammoth right behind. Cameras whirred to focus on the little one’s fuzzy face and flopping trunk.
Sera wiped away tears. “She’s all right! Little Jade! She made it!” She threw her arms around Estelle’s neck, sobbing into her shoulder.
“It’s all right now,” Estelle soothed. At her sharp glance, the videographer turned the camera away. “She’s got her mama to look after her, and the whole herd, too.” And you’ve got me to look after you.
Luis glanced at the blips on the laptop and nudged the director. “Keep a camera on the ridge—Diamond’s coming.”
The bull paused at the top of the hill, taller, hairier, more menacing. The videographer caught his breath, zooming in to catch the mammoth’s glinting eye and the elegantly curving tusks. He stood silhouetted against the sky, putting a hundred years of museum reconstructions to shame. Here was the real thing—living, breathing, and commanding respect.
A loner, Estelle thought. Not quite part of the herd, but always nearby if needed. Kind of like Luis. In the last few weeks, she’d grown to appreciate the taciturn man in his dedication to the mammoths’ welfare.
In the meadow, the herd was together again, reassuring one another with puffs and pats of the trunk. So far, they’d largely ignored the people and recording equipment, but then the matriarch raised a curious trunk in their direction.
She took three steps toward them and stopped, emitting a low rumbling growl.
Luis’s face lightened with a rare smile. “Hey there, Ruby.”
Estelle chuckled to herself. He’s never that happy to see people.
Ignoring the director’s frantic gestures, Luis strode toward the mammoth.
“Get that,” the director whispered. The videographer nodded, the camera rolling.
The mammoth matriarch met him halfway, caressing him with her trunk. After a few moments, the mammoth snorted, her eyes on the crowd of human strangers. With a final trunk pat, she turned and strode toward the eastern ridge, rumbling a call.
One by one, the mammoths fell into line
