Daisy looked sadder than ever. Her once bright stride faltered into a limp, her coat dulling. She still searched the enclosures during walks, ears pricking at tiger roars, and tail wagging faintly. Each time, Zachary tugged her away, whispering apologies she couldn’t understand. Her eyes followed the sound long after.
The cubs gradually became beasts. Their muscles rippled under striped coats, eyes hard and predatory. Keepers treated them with caution, avoiding direct contact. Yet every time Zachary entered the feeding corridor, the tigers pressed to the bars, sniffing, searching. He wondered if they still remembered Daisy or if their feline instinct had erased her.