It stood half-hidden under a camouflage net, crudely welded from metal bars, its door secured with a thick padlock. Inside, sprawled on its side, was a leopard. Its coat, once gold, was dulled with dust and dried mud. The slow rise and fall of its ribs told her it was alive but weak.
Catherine’s throat went dry. The cub hadn’t been wandering. It had been coming back because it couldn’t find this. She scanned the clearing again. No sign of movement from the tent. A single camp chair lay tipped over, a jacket thrown across it. Whoever was here could return at any moment.