Tom sat in his apartment, scanning news clips. His eyes lingered on every shaky video. He noticed something most missed: Sahara always paused near sounds from afar—ambulance sirens, faint calls, and low roars carried by the wind. He remembered Nyla, her ailing sister, from whom Sahara had been inseparable. “She’s not escaping,” he murmured.
The revelation burned through him. Nyla had been separated months earlier for treatment in the veterinary wing, too weak for public view. Sahara’s enclosure had faced that wing. Every day, they had seen each other across the fence. Tom’s stomach twisted. “She’s not dangerous,” he whispered. “She’s desperate.”