Sahara lowered her head, ears flicking, muscles quivering like taut wires. She took another step forward, tail sweeping. A rifle clicked audibly. The crowd shrieked. Tom raised his arms higher, chest heaving. “Please—she’s not a monster. Give her a chance!” His plea echoed, raw against the metallic hum of weapons.
Then it happened—Nyla’s faint call from inside the vet wing, weak but unmistakable. A soft, rasping moan only lions make to one another. Sahara froze, ears twisting sharply toward the sound. Her entire body shuddered, torn between fear of the rifles and the pull of blood calling her home.