I knelt beside the massive cat. Her fur was coarse and dusty, smelling of dry earth and fear. I found the muscle in her thigh and uncapped the syringe.
The male lion took a step toward me. His shadow fell over my hands. I froze, waiting for the bite that would snap my neck. But he didn’t bite. He stood over me, his head lowered, watching the needle. It felt like he understood the transaction: I do this, or she dies.
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I plunged the needle in and depressed the plunger. “Come on, girl,” I whispered, backing away slowly, hands raised to show I was empty.
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