Meet Tim, a gentle elephant whose kindness is bigger than his size. On the sun-warmed Quiet Plains, where every footfall is softer than the last, Tim discovers a frightened young gazelle named Juba who has lost his mother. Join them as Tim learns that the best way to help isn't always the loudest or fastest—sometimes it's simply being calm, patient, and quietly present, making the wide world feel a little safer for one small, lost friend.
Tim was not just any elephant; he was Tim of the Quiet Plains. He didn't rush or rumble. He walked with a hush, every footfall softer than the last, and the sun always seemed to make his gray coat glow a warm lavender-pink.
All the smaller creatures knew Tim. The tortoises didn't pull in their heads, and the mongoose kept playing chase right near his great, sturdy legs. They knew Tim's kindness was bigger than his size.
One afternoon, as Tim approached the cooling shade of the acacia trees, he heard a sound that wasn't the usual rustle of dry grass. It was a nervous, soft *patter-patter*.
Tim knew that sound. It was Juba, a very young gazelle, separated from his mother. Juba trembled, ready to bolt. Tim stopped dead still, his ears flared slightly, trying to look smaller than the sky.
When Juba didn't run away immediately, Tim moved his trunk, not towards Juba, but up, reaching for a high cluster of sweet, ripe marula fruits hanging just above the fawn's head.
*Plop, plop, plop.* The golden fruits landed softly on the dry earth right near Juba's tiny hooves. Juba stopped shaking. His worry turned into curiosity, then hunger.
Tim remained still, watching Juba nibble carefully. Tim had learned long ago that the best way to help was often just to be quiet and wait. Once Juba ate, they walked side-by-side to the water hole.
They didn't have much time for quiet friendship. A rumble started far away—a great thundering of hooves and dust. It was Juba's herd, returning from the deeper grazing lands.
Juba heard his family calling. With a flash of tiny legs and a quick, grateful nudge of his head towards Tim's knee, the little gazelle bounded off to join the familiar, moving lines of stripes and horns.
Tim watched until the dust settled and the Quiet Plains lived up to their name once more. He continued his gentle walk towards the sunset, knowing that his calm, quiet presence had made the wide world feel a little safer for one small, lost friend.