Zachary moved through the zoo before dawn, the world still half asleep. He preferred these hours, when cages hushed with the breath of the resting animals. He always felt responsible for the comfort of every inmate. On one such morning, a rustle near the trash bins startled him. It was a creature, small, wiry, and alive.
At first, he thought, raccoon. But then he saw a pair of lifted amber eyes, hesitant yet defiant. It was a dog—thin, ribs showing, and fur matted. A stray. She froze, waiting for him to shout or throw something. Instead, Zachary crouched, extending a gloved hand. She didn’t run. That she trusted him so readily surprised him.