“Dad, he never stays like that,” Noah muttered. “Not even once. Remember last winter, when it snowed? He was out walking around the whole time. Even then he didn’t just lie down like that.” Daniel wanted to argue, but the memory hit him too. He could still picture the lion pacing through the frosty enclosure, mane dusted white, refusing to let cold weather dull his stride.
Compared to that, today’s stillness felt heavier. Stranger. When they returned after lunch, the crowd had thinned, yet King hadn’t budged. Other lions stretched, yawned, even tussled near the feeding area, but he remained in the corner. Noah pressed against the railing again, cheeks pale. “See? He’s still not moving.”