The afternoon air was heavy, and the little enclosure seemed unusually still. Lynx, the tiny baby, lay curled in the corner, his tiny chest moving slowly with each shallow breath. His mother hovered close, eyes sharp and worried. She leaned down, nudging him gently as if whispering, Lie down less, breathe steady, my little one.
Nearby, the older sibling shifted restlessly, glancing between Lynx and the warm patch of sun by the fence. Mum gave a firm, almost scolding look—her way of warning the older one to stay close and not wander too far. The older seemed to understand, reluctantly sitting down where Mum could see them, though their gaze kept drifting toward other distractions.
Mum’s focus returned to Lynx. She knew milk time was coming soon, and she needed him awake, alert, and ready to nurse. Every few moments, she would brush her hand over his tiny back, trying to rouse him just enough. It wasn’t easy—he seemed so content to rest, eyes drooping with every blink.
On the other side of the pen, Lily, another young one, decided to make her presence known. She bounded over with playful hops, tilting her head at Lynx. Instead of joining in the gentle atmosphere, she acted with sudden impatience—tugging lightly at his blanket, sniffing near his face, and chattering as if urging him to move. Lynx squirmed, unsettled, and Mum gave Lily a displeased grunt.
The moment turned tense—Mum balancing her watchful care, the older sibling obeying but fidgeting, and Lily’s restless antics breaking the fragile calm. Still, Mum stood her ground, determined to keep Lynx awake enough for his precious milk, even if it meant holding the line against everyone’s impatience.
