It is around the year 1550.

In a dense stretch of jungle in Southeast Asia, the morning is alive with bird song and

the trill of insects.

Startled by a crash of footsteps in the river, a pair of parakeets burst from a wild papaya

tree.

A group of men and women wearing cloth sorongs tucked the fabric around their hips to

keep it dry as they splash through ankle-deep water.

A kingfisher flits away with a warning cry.

The leader of the hunting party holds up one fist and the group pauses.

He has spotted something in the forest.

It is difficult to see through the ferns and hanging orchids that tumble down to fringe

the river, but the leader, Ang Chan, finds a root out of the water and slips into the forest.

Ang Chan is king of the Khmer people, but he is far from the safety of his capital city

in their penon pen.

He is in the countryside, on a hunt for an elusive, white elephant, and his attention has been

drawn to something deep in the undergrowth.

He creeps forward, keeping his footsteps light.

Reaching a vast cap-op tree, its roots running like silver snakes over the ground, he climbs

up onto a boughs we can see over the bushy ferns.

The puffed of sunlight penetrates the canopy to highlight details of the jungle.

There is something hidden in the foliage.

It is huge and grey-brow, much taller than a man, though it's definitely not the elusive

...