The next morning, sunlight spilled through breaking clouds. Shira was up again, pacing slowly along the glass wall. Each step was careful, deliberate—but strong.
Ethan walked in holding a towel. Inside it, the fox kit stirred weakly, now clean and warm. Lily followed, her notebook pressed to her chest.
When Shira saw them, she stopped. Ethan knelt and whispered, “Hey, girl. Look who made it.” He lifted the towel’s edge. The tiny fox blinked and squeaked.
Shira rumbled a low chuff, her breath fogging the glass. Lily’s smile trembled. For a moment, there was no barrier—only recognition.
