One afternoon, a paw swipe knocked Daisy flat. Zachary bolted toward the barrier, heart clanging. But Daisy sprang up, shaking herself, barking sharply. The cub froze, head lowered, almost apologetic. Relief washed him dizzy, but it left him trembling. The staff’s stares told him what he already knew—the time was coming.
Staff meetings grew harsher. “She’ll end up torn apart,” one insisted. “You’re gambling with lives,” another snapped. Zachary clenched his jaw, unwilling to argue yet unable to surrender. At night, he replayed every moment, listening for cracks in Daisy’s magic. If tragedy came, would it be his fault alone?