The air shimmered gold that afternoon, the sanctuary quiet except for the wind through the bamboo. Shira slept by the pond, her reflection rippling softly.
Lily stood nearby, writing the last line in her notebook: “She wasn’t sick. She was protecting something small.”
Caleb placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll make a good keeper one day.” Lily smiled. “Maybe. But for now—I’ll just keep watching.”
And as the breeze swept through, Shira lifted her head toward the sound—a queen once more, strong, gentle, and free.
