Clang.
The heavy iron gate swung open.
Old Larry smoothly carried his red plastic bucket and the long metal feeding tongs into the enclosure.
This time, however, Titan was completely prepared.
He lay perfectly flat on the lawn directly in front of the gate.
His jaw was wide open, his scaly belly was pressed firmly into the dirt, and he remained absolutely motionless.
“Oh, look at that.”
Old Larry let out a soft gasp of surprise.
He mistakenly assumed the little crocodile had figured out his feeding routine and was simply waiting to be hand-fed like a hungry dog at a dinner table.
Little did the old man know, this ridiculous pose was entirely born out of a guilty conscience.
Titan was desperately trying to act natural while actively hiding his illegal, feathered stowaway in the corner.
Thud.
Old Larry set the bucket down on the grass.
He used the tongs to grab a thick slab of raw chicken breast, slowly extending it toward Titan’s waiting jaws.
Snap!
The brutal, echoing crack of the baby crocodile’s jaws violently slamming shut made Old Larry flinch.
It didn’t matter how many times he heard it; the sound was always terrifyingly concussive.
“Are you trying to shatter your own teeth?
It sounds like your brains are going to pop out of your ears,” Old Larry muttered.
“Oh no, did that gunshot damage your cerebellum?”
Old Larry was just talking to himself.
Titan completely ignored him, silently praying to the reptilian gods that the eagle-owl wouldn’t suddenly shriek and give away its position.
Hmm?
Titan immediately realized something was off the moment the meat slid past his tongue.
The texture was different.
Was this a new type of food?
He looked up at Old Larry with a hint of confusion.
The old man noticed the look and chuckled warmly.
“I noticed you didn’t finish your fish yesterday.
I was worried you might not like it, so I switched your diet up to some fresh poultry.”
Titan was momentarily stunned.
I didn’t finish it because I was using the leftovers as bait for my devious nocturnal traps.
I didn’t hate the fish at all!
Still, he couldn’t complain about fresh chicken.
Titan slightly adjusted his posture, raising his chest off the grass so his chin wasn’t dragging in the dirt.
The morning sun had fully climbed into the bright blue sky.
It cast long, comforting shadows across the enclosure, warming Titan’s scales as Old Larry offered him a second piece of meat.
Crunch.
The sound was still intimidating, but significantly quieter than the first bite.
After hesitating for a moment, Old Larry felt a surge of mischievous confidence.
He used the tongs to gently place the third piece of chicken directly onto a massive, razor-sharp tooth protruding from the left side of Titan’s lower jaw.
Whoosh.
Titan simply tilted his head to the right.
He gently opened and closed his jaws twice, letting gravity do the work.
The chicken slid obediently down his throat.
“See?
You can eat perfectly fine without trying to snap the tongs in half,” Old Larry muttered under his breath.
He didn’t realize that Titan’s aggressive bites were purely a reflexive instinct.
If Old Larry moved slowly and predictably, the crocodile’s bite force adjusted accordingly.
The tongs extended with a fourth piece of meat.
Crunch.
“Oh, right,” Old Larry continued, casually making conversation.
“The Department of Fish and Wildlife sent Number Four off to a specialized vet clinic this morning.
It turns out his paw was severed by an illegal steel trap.
I reckon he will be back to become your official new neighbor in a day or two.”
Crunch.
Old Larry didn’t seem to care if Titan could actually understand him.
He just enjoyed the one-sided chatter. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Looking up at the man’s deeply wrinkled face, Titan sensed a profound, lingering loneliness.
Old Larry looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties.
Didn’t he have a wife?
Kids?
Any family at all?
Crunch.
Titan was incredibly curious as to why Old Larry was pouring his life savings into running a dilapidated, tourist-free zoo that essentially functioned as an underfunded charity for crippled animals.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly ask.
He would just have to figure it out later.
The scorching midday sun beat down mercilessly, practically trying to bake the earth dry.
Heat waves visibly shimmered over the concrete paths outside the enclosure.
Titan watched Old Larry lock the iron gate and disappear past the viewing window.
The eagle-owl was an absolute professional.
It hadn’t made a single sound during the entire feeding.
Titan turned around and slowly waddled toward the back corner of his exhibit.
He was thoroughly enjoying the sun’s warmth.
He casually spat out a small chunk of chicken he had secretly hidden under his tongue.
Forging a diplomatic alliance across species lines was exactly like dating.
You had to constantly offer little gifts until the other party finally understood your intentions.
Rustle.
The Eurasian Eagle-Owl was standing deep in the shaded corner, keeping its back out of the direct sun.
It had its massive wings spread wide open, trying to speed up the drying process of its waterlogged feathers.
Wow.
You never truly realize the scale of something until you are right next to it.
The size difference was genuinely astonishing.
The eagle-owl’s wingspan was nearly twice the length of Titan’s entire crocodilian body.
It was no wonder these birds were classified as apex aerial predators.
“Hoot!”
Sensing the approaching footsteps, the owl let out a low, warning cry.
Its sleepy eyes immediately snapped wide open.
It hopped backward twice, squaring up to face Titan.
Really?
I saved you from drowning, I gave you a free weasel, and you are seriously still hissing at me?
Do you think you are acting tough?
Titan wasn’t in a rush.
He simply dropped the chunk of chicken onto the grass roughly ten feet away from the bird.
He then deliberately took several slow steps backward.
The owl didn’t dare move forward.
It remained frozen in a defensive posture, ready to lash out or flee at the slightest provocation.
Titan felt like he was agonizingly close to success.
The bird’s wings were almost dry.
He just needed to find a way to get the stubborn creature to understand his peaceful intentions.
Suddenly, a brilliant, albeit ridiculous, idea popped into his head.
Splash.
He quickly slid into the lake and swam to the far side of the enclosure.
The owl’s head swiveled a full 120 degrees, tracking the ripples on the water’s surface.
Only after Titan was a safe distance away did the bird finally turn its attention to the chicken.
Flap, flap.
It hopped forward and landed near the meat.
Because its feathers were still slightly damp, its movements were clunky and unusually noisy.
Splash.
Titan was back.
Just as the owl tore a small strip of meat from the chicken, it froze.
It stood tall, glaring at the approaching crocodile, entirely prepared to abandon its meal and sprint away.
But then, the bird froze.
Its massive eyes widened in absolute, utter bewilderment.
Titan was gently holding a single, soggy brown feather in the very tip of his jaws—one the owl had lost during its chaotic fall into the lake.
He climbed ashore and slowly, deliberately waddled toward the confused bird.
The eagle-owl was completely paralyzed by confusion.
It just stared blankly.
Taking the silence as permission, Titan grew bolder.
He waddled closer and closer until he was directly in front of the massive bird.
With incredible precision, he gently pressed the loose feather directly against the owl’s fluffy abdomen.
“Squawk!”
The eagle-owl absolutely lost its mind.
It let out a terrified shriek, violently hopped backward to create distance, and frantically flapped its wings, twisting its body as if trying to aggressively shake off a parasite.
Ultimately, the panicked thrashing only caused it to shed three more loose feathers onto the grass.
“Hiss.”
Brother, what is your problem?
Titan let out a soft, questioning rumble, though he knew the bird couldn’t understand him.
The eagle-owl stood completely frozen for a long time.
It stared down at the fresh pile of feathers scattered at its feet.
The bird’s expression looked like it desperately wanted to cry but physically couldn’t.
It radiated an aura of absolute, soul-crushing defeat.
Titan watched as the owl awkwardly regained its footing.
Completely ignoring the fact that its wings weren’t fully dry, the bird wobbly launched itself into the air, frantically flapping until it disappeared over the zoo wall.
Even though his new friend had technically run away in a panic, Titan felt a deep sense of accomplishment.
He was certain the diplomatic treaty was officially sealed.
The pale moon eventually chased away the sun, dragging a dark, heavy night across the sky.
Despite now being an impressive three days old, Titan still felt a lingering sense of unease about the world outside his enclosure.
Even though he hadn’t encountered anything truly life-threatening yet, he wisely chose to remain hidden just beneath the surface of the lake.
“Hoot, hoot.”
It was the owl!
Titan was absolutely overjoyed.
He had waited all afternoon, desperately hoping the bird had finally understood his friendly overtures.
He tracked the sound.
The owl’s eerie, glowing eyes were still incredibly terrifying in the pitch-black night, but to Titan, they looked like the welcoming porch lights of a best friend’s house.
Splash.
He eagerly climbed out of the water.
The Eurasian Eagle-Owl was perched on the concrete wall, exactly where they had first met.
It waited patiently for Titan to approach.
Once the crocodile was directly below, the owl unceremoniously dropped the limp corpse it had been clutching in its talons.
Thud.
It was an unidentified species of falcon.
Titan wasn’t entirely surprised.
Crunch.
Titan knew this was a formal return gift from his new aerial brother.
He wasn’t going to insult the bird by standing on ceremony.
He clamped his jaws down, cleanly severing the falcon’s right wing, and swallowed it whole.
A gentle breeze swept past.
The owl dropped silently from the wall, landing directly in front of Titan.
It tentatively leaned forward and took a small, cautious bite out of the falcon’s left wing.
Titan didn’t display any signs of food aggression.
He remained perfectly still.
However, for some inexplicable reason, the owl’s eyes looked even more deeply traumatized than before.
With Titan’s silent permission, the massive bird successfully shared the meal.
Brother…
why do you look so completely resigned to your fate?
“Hoot?”
Titan was still wondering if he had accidentally done something wrong when the eagle-owl suddenly paused.
It snapped its head up, turning a sharp 90 degrees to stare directly through the thick viewing glass of the enclosure.
Someone was coming.