“That’s it,” she murmured. “Show me what you’ve been hiding.” Then, as if compelled by some buried recognition, King rolled slightly onto his side. For the first time, the dark bundle beneath him was visible. Gasps rippled through the staff behind the glass. It wasn’t food. It wasn’t a scrap of clothing or debris.
It was an animal—small, black-furred, its body gaunt, every rib showing beneath its skin. It lay motionless at first, then twitched faintly, a weak attempt to lift its head. Noah clutched his father’s sleeve. “Dad…it’s alive,” he whispered. Margaret’s eyes glistened, but her voice stayed calm, directed at the lion. “You’ve done well, King. You’ve kept it safe.