Daniel tried to laugh it off as they left the enclosure for lunch. He bought Noah a hotdog and a soda, but his son barely touched them. The boy kept twisting in his seat, eyes darting back toward the lions’ habitat as if something were pulling him there.
“Eat a little, champ,” Daniel urged, nudging the tray closer. “You don’t want King worrying about you, do you?” It was meant as a joke, but Noah didn’t smile. He just shook his head and pushed the food away.