I’m lying on a blow-up mattress. Humidity exaggerates the smell of elephant dung and brackish water. It is nearly dawn and hyena have been hunting near our tent since midnight. As their guttural barks become fainter, the darkness settles over me and I ease back to sleep. Without warning, something brushes against my tent. My heart pounds. The material that separates me from whatever lurks outside feels impossibly thin. I ponder the wisdom of bringing three young children deep into the bush on a camping safari.
We rise at dawn to a honey-hued sunrise and immediately work out who our overnight visitors were. A
