The cats below scattered, the healthy cub deep into the cave, the female into the brush nearby. The sick cub dragged itself partway into the cave and collapsed. A yowl of distress reached them, and the breeze blew grit into their faces.
Valerie and Wolf watched him from the hill. When she couldn’t watch anymore, Valerie whirled and ran back down to the camp, notebooks and equipment forgotten.
* * * *
The cub was dead the next morning. Valerie found his body some yards from the cave. There were drag marks in the sand; the female must have pulled him away. Flies buzzed over his skinny body. She noticed the jut of his hipbone, too sharp through his dirty fur, his broken leg loose, his eyes sandy and sunken.