Amateur hunters still prowled alleys with crossbows and rifles, chasing rumors for glory. One group nearly cornered Sahara behind a warehouse. They raised their weapons, but her speed burst through the gap before they fired. Only claw marks on the wall remained, mocking their failure. She became a ghost and a legend, untouchable.
Authorities escalated: “Tranquilizers won’t work—too risky.” Snipers were ordered to fire on sight. The public split—some demanded blood, others begged for mercy. Talk show hosts and guests shouted over each other: Predator or prisoner? Sahara, unaware of debates raging in living rooms, limped quietly closer to the only home she knew.