The tiger pivoted fast, ears twitching, her body low. For a heart-stopping second, it looked like she might give chase. A second siren began to wail. Meera whipped around, jaws parted in frustration. Her claws flexed against the dirt, her chest heaving with each breath. Visitors began backing away, some crouching low behind barriers.
“She’s going into flight mode,” one keeper yelled. “Get that siren off, now!” But it kept wailing. Nibbles was now tucked behind a fake rock formation, peeking around the edge. He didn’t bark this time—he waited. Watching. His tiny body trembled with uncertainty. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
The tiger had been still just moments ago. Now she looked like thunder in fur. Jamie’s hands were shaking. “Turn it off! Please, turn off the sound!” Just as the keeper reached for his radio, something shifted. Meera’s eyes found Nibbles again. She stilled, just slightly. The tension in her spine eased. Her tail slowed. Another long second passed.
Then—almost reluctantly—she turned away from the crowd and padded toward the rock. The sirens cut off. Silence poured back in, thick and trembling. Meera reached the rock. Nibbles stepped forward cautiously, sniffing the air. Meera leaned in and—just as before—sniffed the top of his head.