Creak, clatter.
The heavy iron gate swung open.
The familiar metallic scraping sound was old and rusted, yet somehow comforting.
The sky had completely darkened.
The pale, waning moon had already climbed high above the treeline.
Titan looked over his shoulder.
He didn’t see Old Larry walking in.
Instead, he saw the canvas recliner being dragged backward into the enclosure.
Ah.
We had to move the lawn furniture out to avoid looking completely insane while the guests were here.
Wait.
Old Larry was actually worried about receiving strange looks?
Gentle ripples shimmered across the lake, reflecting the moonlight.
Titan didn’t retreat into the water.
He remained quietly on the grassy shoreline, watching the old man.
Old Larry needed some company tonight.
Rustle.
The canvas recliner was set down on the grass.
However, it wasn’t placed in the same flattened spot as yesterday.
This time, Old Larry positioned it much closer to Titan.
As for Titan, he hadn’t moved an inch from his favorite basking spot.
His heavy, armored body had left a permanent, crocodile-shaped indentation in the dirt.
This time, Old Larry had also brought a small, single-legged wooden side table.
Instead of using his metal feeding tongs, the old man simply dumped a heavy bucket of raw meat directly onto the grass in front of Titan.
Titan didn’t rush to eat.
He watched as Old Larry placed the small table right between the recliner and the crocodile.
Clink.
An old, weathered ceramic teapot was set on the table, alongside a familiar crystal shot glass.
Splash.
Old Larry poured a clear, strong liquor into the glass.
The starry sky reflected perfectly in the liquid.
The moonlight bouncing off the nearby lake seemed to divide the tiny glass of alcohol in two, giving the entire scene a surreal, dreamlike quality.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Number Three.”
Seeing that Old Larry was settled in, Titan didn’t hesitate any longer.
He began to carefully sort through the pile of meat.
He wasn’t sorting it for himself, of course.
“Hoot.”
The eagle-owl dropped silently from her branch, landing directly to Titan’s left.
She watched patiently as the softer, tender strips of meat were pushed toward her.
She skillfully began to tear into her meal.
Crunch.
Titan much preferred the firmer, tougher cuts.
He was absolutely fascinated by the deeply satisfying sensation of crushing thick bones between his jaws.
In a strange, biological way, he and the eagle-owl were the perfect dining complements.
“I will be sure to prepare extra for both of you next time.”
Old Larry tossed back a shot of liquor.
He smiled warmly as he watched the massive bird and the prehistoric crocodile share a meal.
However, his smile quickly faded as his thoughts turned inward.
Splash.
A fresh shot of liquor was poured into the glass, but Old Larry didn’t reach for it.
He slowly leaned back in his recliner, staring up into the endless, starry night sky.
“Do you know something, buddy?”
Titan stared blankly.
No, I really don’t.
Old Larry was essentially talking to himself, using Titan as a silent confessional.
Titan turned his massive head toward the old man as he gnawed on a thick bone, signaling that he was actively listening.
“When I was a young man, I always felt a deep sense of pity,” Old Larry whispered.
I used to worry that one day, we would eat so much that we would never see another wild bird on the mountain again.”
Old Larry reached into his breast pocket.
He pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper and gently smoothed it out on his lap.
It was a faded, black-and-white photograph of a young, smiling couple.
“But I was wrong.
People raise livestock to eat, so livestock will never disappear.
But people harvest wild rhinoceros horns for medicine without ever protecting the rhinoceros.
And now?
Now we will never see those magnificent creatures roaming wild in our own country again.”
Old Larry’s voice grew thick with emotion.
“I stood by and watched them disappear.
I watched people laughing, joking, and profiting off the destruction.
I knew in my heart it was wrong, but I felt powerless.
I could only make empty promises.
I promised my wife, Rose.
I promised my daughter, Rachel.
But I did absolutely nothing to help.”
Old Larry didn’t shed a single tear, but his weathered face looked as though his soul was violently weeping.
“I couldn’t stop the wild from disappearing.
Rose didn’t live to see me try.
And now…
now Rachel will never see it either.”
Losing a wife in middle age and a daughter in his twilight years.
No man should have to bear that kind of compounding grief.
“Number Three, what am I supposed to do?
I am terrified.”
Old Larry’s zoo had never been open to the general public.
He believed people who didn’t genuinely love animals simply didn’t deserve to see them.
He had desperately wanted to build a private paradise exclusively for his family.
But he had always been hesitant, terrified of the financial risks, afraid of losing control of his quiet life.
In the end, he had risked nothing, gained nothing, and failed to protect the people he loved most.
“Rumble.”
Titan let out a soft, comforting growl.
He reached under his scaly belly and gently pushed the woven grass ring toward the old man.
The movement caught Old Larry’s attention.
He sat up and looked down at the grass.
It was the raven’s feather knot.
The glossy, jet-black feather shimmered with an iridescent purple light under the moon.
The delicate grass ring carried a profound memory—a token of gratitude that would never fade until death.
Crows and ravens.
Why did so many people in this modern era view them as omens of bad luck?
They built their nests, they raised their young, they fought to survive.
They were just like any other creature in the world.
Why should they be universally hated by humanity?
What gave humans the arrogant right to arbitrarily assign meaning to animals, and then declare themselves the supreme masters of nature?
Were the animals truly disappearing?
No.
They were the very soul of the mountains, the rivers, the grasslands, and the swamps.
If they vanished, the world itself would die.
The enclosure remained perfectly silent for a long time.
A grieving man, an armored crocodile, and an apex owl simply sat together, sharing the moonlight.
It felt like an incredibly ordinary activity, yet the waning moon seemed to wash away their lingering worldly fears.
“Number Three, how many animals do you think a tiny, run-down zoo like this can actually support?”
“Rumble?”
You are the Zoo Director, old man.
Why are you asking me?
“I know the world is constantly pushing for progress and industrialization.
I can’t blame society for wanting a better future,” Old Larry said, his voice firming up.
“I refuse to let little Lily grow up in a world where she can only see these animals in textbooks.”
Old Larry carefully folded the photograph and tucked it safely back into his pocket.
He raised his shot glass to the moon and downed the fiery liquid.
“In that case, we are going to save every single one of them until the day I die!”
Crash!
Fueled by a sudden, overwhelming surge of conviction, Old Larry slammed his glass down onto the wooden table.
He reached for the teapot to pour another round, only to realize the fragile crystal glass had completely shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Well, that is going to be expensive to replace.”
It was a minor regret.
Old Larry chuckled softly, leaning back into his recliner.
He watched the moonlight rise higher into the sky, listening to the comforting, rhythmic sound of thick bones cracking in Titan’s jaws.
“I never thought I would have the chance to serve my country again at my age,” Old Larry whispered into the night.
“No.
This time, I am going to serve nature.”
He turned his head and locked eyes with Titan.
The baby crocodile still radiated that calm, indifferent, cool-old-man vibe.
“Come on, buddy.
We are going to save them all.”
Vroom.
The crunch of tires on gravel announced the arrival of a vehicle the next morning.
“Haha!
Director Larry!
It is always an absolute delight to reunite with a friend, even if we have been apart for less than twenty-four hours.”
Chris Liwei’s outgoing, foreign demeanor was incredibly deceptive.
It wasn’t surprising that he acted so cheerful and charismatic.
“What exactly do I need to do?” Old Larry asked.
He casually sidestepped the foreigner’s attempt at a hug, cutting straight to the point.
“Just continue being a good Zoo Director,” Chris Liwei smiled.
“However, you need to be acutely aware of your situation.
Your remote location offers massive advantages, but it also carries severe risks.”
Chris Liwei tried to put on a serious face, but his natural charisma made it difficult.
“I will be fine,” Old Larry nodded.
“Is the Captain involved in this organization too?”
“He is.
But even our Association has strict operational limitations.
For example, our sanctuaries absolutely would not dare to house a Golden Tiger.”
“Why not?”
“Are you genuinely unaware, or just pretending not to know?” Chris Liwei asked, raising an eyebrow.
“In this corrupt world, there is a massive black market for exotic animals.
Hell, in some of these rural towns, it wouldn’t even be surprising to see a wild bear being sold at a meat market.”
Old Larry’s expression contorted into something incredibly strange.
Chris Liwei noticed the look and suddenly felt a twinge of insecurity.
“Wait.
You haven’t actually seen something like that happen, have you?”
“Ahem.
Let’s just ignore that for now,” Old Larry coughed awkwardly.
“Before we discuss any logistics, let me officially introduce you to my Assistant Zoo Director.
You actually met him briefly yesterday.”
Chris Liwei’s expression became highly scrutinizing.
He looked around the empty courtyard.
“Where is this Assistant Director?”
“Look down.”
Old Larry flashed a deeply mysterious, mischievous smile.
Chris Liwei looked thoroughly puzzled.
He slowly followed Old Larry’s gaze, looking down at his own leather shoes.
“Rumble.”
“Son of a bitch!
What the Fuck is that?!”