The lion didn’t move. Day after day, he lay pressed against the far corner of the enclosure, his golden mane dulled by dust and neglect. Food went untouched unless thrown directly in front of him, and even then, he ate sparingly. With every passing hour, his strength seemed to fade.
Keepers whispered in clipped tones, debating sedation, their voices edged with urgency. Something was wrong. His ribs had begun to show beneath his skin, and worse, a swelling pushed against his side—an unnatural lump that left even the most experienced among them unsettled. The king of the pride looked broken.
Visitors gathered at the glass, their chatter subdued, their smiles faltering. Children asked questions their parents couldn’t answer. Among them, one boy pressed close, his small hands flat against the barrier. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried through the silence. “Dad…why won’t he get up?”