What he sees does not make him gasp, because he doesn’t dare make a sound. But his eyes stay fixed and unblinking and his breath is stilled. He now understands Odo’s strategy in navigating the boulder fields, why the ape goes from boulder to boulder in a straight line rather than wandering in the open, why he climbs and observes, why he asks his clumsy human companion to stay close.
Odo has been seeking, and now Odo has found.
Peter stares at the Iberian rhinoceros standing at the foot of the boulder. He feels he is looking at a galleon from the air, the body massive and curved, the two horns rising like masts, the tail fluttering like a flag. The animal is not aware that it is being observed.
Peter and Odo look at each other. They acknowledge their mutual amazement, he with a stunned smile, Odo with a funnelling of the lips, then a wide grin of the lower teeth.
The rhinoceros flicks its tail and occasionally gives its head a little roll.
Peter tries to estimate its size. It is perhaps ten feet in length. A well-built, big-boned beast. The hide grey and tough-looking. The head large, with a long, sloping forehead. The horns as unmistakable as a shark’s fin. The moist eyes surprisingly delicate, with long eyelashes.
The rhinoceros scratches itself against the rock. It lowers its head and sniffs at the grass but does not eat. It twitches its ears. Then, with a grunt, it sets off. The ground shakes. Despite its heft, the animal moves swiftly, heading straight for another boulder, then another, then another, until it has disappeared.
Peter and Odo don’t move for the longest time, not for fear of the rhinoceros, but because they don’t want to lose anything of what they’ve just seen, and to move might bring on forgetfulness. The sky is a blaze of blues and reds and oranges. Peter finds himself weeping silently.
Finally he pushes himself back onto the top of the boulder. It is an effort to sit up. His heart is battering within him. He sits with his eyes closed, his head hung low, trying to breathe evenly. It’s the worst heartburn he’s ever had. He groans.
Odo, to his hazy surprise, turns and hugs him, one long arm wrapping around his back, supporting him, the other enveloping his raised knees, on which his arms are resting. It’s a firm full-circle embrace. Peter finds it comforting and relaxes into it. The ape’s body is warm. He places a trembling hand on Odo’s hairy forearm. He feels Odo’s breathing against the side of his face. He raises his head and opens his eyes to cast a sideways glance at his friend. Odo is looking straight at him. Puff, puff, puff, softly, go the ape’s breaths against his face. Peter struggles a little, but not to get away, more an involuntary action.
He stops moving, lifeless, his heart clogged to stillness. Odo does nothing for several minutes, then moves back, gently laying him flat on the boulder. Odo stares at Peter’s body and coughs mournfully. He stays next to him for a half hour or so.
The ape rises and drops off the rock, barely breaking his fall with his hands and feet. On the ground he moves out into the open. He stops and looks back at the boulder.
Then he turns and runs off in the direction of the Iberian rhinoceros.
About the Author
YANN MARTEL is the author of Life of Pi, the global bestseller that won the 2002 Man Booker Prize (among other honours) and was adapted to the screen in the Oscar-winning film by Ang Lee. He is also the award-winning author of The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios, the novels Self and Beatrice and Virgil, and the nonfiction work 101 Letters to a Prime Minister. Born in Spain in 1963, he studied philosophy at Trent University, worked at odd jobs — tree planter, dishwasher, security guard — and travelled widely before turning to writing. He lives in Saskatoon, Canada, with the writer Alice Kuipers and their four children.