Reaching into his tactical vest, Deen bypassed his camera controls and pulled out his satellite phone to make an emergency call. “He’s where?” Dr. Shrestha’s voice was a frantic hiss through the satellite static. As the chief veterinary officer for the sector, Shrestha had spent twenty years darting rhinos and patching up snared leopards, but a collapsed alpha tiger was a medical nightmare. “The western ridge trail, just past the riverbed,” Deen whispered, keeping his eyes locked on the faint rise and fall of Agni’s flank.
“He’s completely unresponsive to movement. Shrestha, his stomach… it looks like he swallowed a boulder. He’s bloating.” “Do not move from that blind, Paul,” the vet warned. “If he rouses in a state of panic, he will tear you apart before he realizes you aren’t a threat. I’m mobilizing the capture team right now.”