Just ten feet away, pushing through the tall elephant grass like a massive shadow out of the fog, was a Bengal tiger. Every natural instinct tells a person what to expect when facing a tiger. You expect to see one of nature’s most perfect hunters—a strong, athletic animal covered in bright orange fur and bold black stripes. But the creature standing outside Paul’s tent was completely deformed.
He was an old male tiger, instantly recognizable to Paul by a jagged white scar on his left ear. The park rangers knew this tiger well and called him Agni. But Agni’s legendary, terrifying shape was entirely gone. His stomach was swollen to a monstrous, unnatural size. It didn’t just sag; it bulged outward like a tightly wound leather drum on the verge of bursting.