The second followed minutes later, smaller but wriggling with life. The third arrived after a long, straining pause, its tiny body motionless until Amara’s rough tongue coaxed a faint squeal from its chest. For one perfect moment, the world seemed whole. Amara curled around her litter, nudging them toward her belly. The cubs latched clumsily, paws kneading against her fur.
Ethan exhaled, relief warming his chest. Life had triumphed again, just as it should. Then the moment shattered. Amara stiffened, her breathing shallow. She swayed once and collapsed. The monitors screamed. Keepers rushed in, voices rising into commands: “Epinephrine—compressions now—keep her airway clear.”