The storm rolled in heavily the next day, thunder shaking the zoo long before dawn. Ethan knew trouble when he felt the air pressed thick in his lungs as he keyed open the lion house. The moment he stepped inside, he caught the scent—sweet, metallic, and sharp. Birth. Amara, one of the young lionesses, was in labor.
She paced circles in the straw, sides heaving, tail lashing with every contraction. Vets and keepers worked quickly, voices clipped but calm, preparing syringes, clean towels, heat lamps. Ethan joined in without hesitation, sliding into the practiced rhythm of crisis. The first cub came quickly, a slick tumble of fur and sound that filled the den with a fragile cry.