Eryshae

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Sam

Salisbury Zoo

Sam wasn't sure what he expected from the Salisbury Zoo. Maybe a dusty collection of old cages and half-forgotten creatures. A handful of overfed birds and a sleepy goat or two. Maybe some kid throwing a rock and getting chased by a duck with a grudge.

But this, this was something else. The winding paths were lined with tall grass and trees that seemed just a little too vibrant. The air was thick with flower pollen and the crisp smell of damp moss. Wooden signs carved by hand pointed toward shaded enclosures and sun-dappled viewing platforms, each etched with elegant lettering:

POND DRAGONS , THIS WAY

PYGMY LIONS (DO NOT FEED TWICE)

THE STILL-WINGED WATCHER , STRAIGHT AHEAD

It was quiet here. Peaceful. More garden than prison. Sam walked slowly beside Vael, her fingers lightly laced with his as they followed the first path toward the largest enclosure in sight. He felt the heat of the morning on the back of his neck, the lingering scent of chocolate pastries still clinging to them both.

A small wooden placard came into view, settled beside a tall wrought-iron aviary wrapped in flowering ivy. A pair of children pressed their noses to the mesh in awe, their hands sticky with candied nuts.

THE STILL-WINGED WATCHER

Snowy Owl , Gender: Female

Donated by the Seaborne Monastery of Three-Fold Winds

"It watches. That is enough."

Sam tilted his head. "That's… not unsettling at all." But then he saw it. Perched on a gnarled branch inside the enclosure, still as a statue, was the owl. Its feathers were bone-white, tipped in silver at the wings. Eyes like twin moons, vast and yellow, locked onto Sam the moment he looked.

And stayed there.

Didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

Just watched.

Sam felt a subtle chill, not cold exactly, but like a draft moving through a room that shouldn't have any windows. Vael stepped forward, arms crossed. "It's beautiful," she whispered. Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. It is." The owl blinked once. And it blinked slowly.

The owl shifted, just barely, a tightening of talons on the branch. No fluffing. No sound. Just... presence. Sam took a step back, his smile faint and uneasy. "Alright," he muttered. "Onward to less judgmental animals. Hopefully ones that don't feel like they can read my soul." Vael grinned and tugged at his arm. "You're imagining things."

"Probably." He didn't believe it. Ahead, laughter echoed from the next enclosure. And the path twisted toward whimsy once more. The path curved away from the owl's enclosure, winding through a grove of slender silverleaf trees and past a gently trickling fountain carved with koi and lilies.

Sam exhaled slowly, the chill of the snowy owl fading from his skin. With every step, the tension that had crept into his shoulders melted a little more. They turned a corner and were greeted by the sound of laughter, light, shrill, and unmistakably joyful.

A wide pond stretched out ahead, its banks ringed with river stones and clusters of cattails. Wooden benches dotted the edges, and a small wooden bridge arched over the narrowest part. Sunlight danced across the water, broken only by the slow ripple of something large and mossy moving just beneath the surface.

At the center of the pond sat a creature that, for all appearances, might have been mistaken for an overgrown rock, if it weren't for the fact that it was smiling. The pond dragon wasn't a dragon at all.

It was a tortoise. Massive. Ancient. Its shell was rounded and gnarled with age, covered in patches of moss and faint etchings carved lovingly by generations of keepers. Its skin was wrinkled like old bark, with great heavy eyes that blinked slowly, but with far more kindness than the owl had.

Children played around it, some splashing in the shallows, others daring to climb gently onto the edges of its shell. It didn't seem to mind. It shifted now and then with the ponderous grace of old things, its movements more patient than slow.

A small girl, no more than five, had tucked a flower crown between the ridges of its shell. The tortoise blinked once, deeply pleased, and nuzzled her hand with the tip of its beak. Vael's face lit with a rare, unguarded smile. "Look at her," she murmured. "I think she really is a dragon." Sam chuckled. "If she breathes fire, I'm going to be impressed."

"She breathes contentment," Vael replied. They approached slowly, respectfully, watching as one of the keepers, an elderly man with sun-spotted hands and a wide-brimmed straw hat, offered the tortoise a handful of melon slices. The tortoise accepted with a slow, satisfied munch, blinking his old eyes with regal approval.

A placard nearby read:

POND DRAGON

Name: Madam Bramble

Species: Imperial River Tortoise

Age: 334 years and counting

"She has carried five generations of Salisbury's children on her back and not once lost her way."

Sam folded his arms and studied the tortoise with new admiration. "Three hundred and thirty-four years... and somehow still patient with children climbing all over her." Vael leaned in. "Maybe because she remembers what it's like to be young." Sam glanced at her sideways. "Are you suggesting I should let children climb on me?"

Vael smirked. "Only if you want a flower crown, too." He bumped her shoulder with his. "Only if it's from you." They stood there in companionable quiet for a while, listening to the hum of the pond, the laughter of children, and the slow, steady breath of Madam Bramble as she closed her eyes beneath the sun.

It was the kind of peace Sam had always thought impossible. The kind earned slowly, like age rings in a tree or moss on a shell. He reached for Vael's hand and found it waiting for him. They left the pond with warm hands and easy silence, following the path deeper into the zoo's winding heart. The trees gave way to flower beds and shaded stalls where vendors sold paper cones of nuts, fruit skewers, and cups of cold, sweet tea.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Sam's stomach rumbled as they passed a booth shaped like a painted wagon, the front etched with dancing animals and the words:

"BEAST BITES , SNACKS FOR HUNGRY EXPLORERS!"

He gave Vael a pleading look. "We just had breakfast…"

"But?"

"I could eat again." Vael laughed. "You're hopeless." But she stepped up to the cart anyway, eyeing the menu while Sam pretended not to hover too excitedly behind her. They walked away with two cones of roasted cinnamon almonds and a shared peach tart glazed with wildflower honey. The heat of the day had begun to build, and the sweet tartness cut through it like a breeze.

They wandered toward the sound of chittering. The meerkat enclosure was ringed with stacked stones and glass walls, enclosing a sandy landscape dotted with tiny burrows and wooden stumps. Inside, a colony of meerkats darted in and out of sight, sharp-eyed, nosey, and full of attitude.

One stood perfectly upright at the top of a stump, chest puffed out like a little sentinel. Another wrestled its sibling into the dirt below, then ran circles around a half-buried log. A third climbed halfway up the glass to stare down a gawking toddler with the ferocity of a drunk sailor defending a barstool.

"They're chaotic," Sam murmured, amused. "They're us," Vael said, deadpan, tossing a cinnamon almond into her mouth. "That one with the stolen peanut? Definitely you." He grinned and passed her the tart. "You're still talking to me, though."

"I haven't decided why yet," she said around a bite of honeyed peach. They leaned on the wooden railing together, watching as two of the meerkats stood back-to-back like duelists before darting away from an encroaching squirrel. A zoo keeper nearby chuckled at the display, shaking her head and muttering something about "burrow drama."

Sam took another bite of the tart and stole a glance at Vael's profile, her hair caught in the sun, lashes dark against her cheek as she watched the meerkats with a faint smirk. This day didn't feel like it belonged to war or worry. It felt borrowed from another life. And maybe, just maybe, it could be one they made their own.

The last of the peach tart was gone, the honey still lingering on Sam's tongue when it happened,

a deep, resonant call that cut through the hum of the zoo like thunder slipping between the clouds. Children squealed with delight somewhere down the path. Birds startled from the trees. A hush fell, brief and reverent. Sam and Vael turned toward the sound at the same moment. "That was, "

"Definitely an elephant," Vael finished, already moving. They followed the winding trail past a shaded courtyard, past a bright mural of cranes and storks, and into a wider clearing bordered by black iron railings and thick stone pillars. A carved sign above the archway read:

THE ANCIENT BOND , ELEPHANT ENCLOSURE

The world opened wide. The enclosure stretched far beyond the others, a mix of grass and soft earth, sun-warmed rock, and shallow pools fed by a slow-dripping waterfall. Trees lined the back fence, their wide leaves dancing in the heat. And in the middle of it all stood a massive elephant. Even from a distance, Sam could feel the weight of her presence.

She towered above the surrounding terrain, her hide a sun-dappled gray speckled with faint pink. Her tusks were long and curved, smooth as ivory sculptures, and draped in delicate golden rings that shimmered in the sunlight. Bright beads were strung loosely along one ear, not ornamental, but ceremonial, their colors worn and sun-faded. But it was her eyes that held him.

Dark. Deep. Still.

As if she carried centuries behind them. "She's… beautiful," Vael said, her voice softer now. Sam nodded. "She feels… old. Like the mountain kind of old." A keeper stood near the railing, offering information to a group of wide-eyed children.

"This is Tirajii," the keeper said proudly. "She's a Moon-Touched Forest Elephant. Thought extinct until fifty years ago, when she was found living near the ruins of an abandoned monastery. We believe she's over two hundred and seventy years old." Vael let out a low breath. "She's seen more than all of us combined."

Sam rested his arms on the railing, watching as Tirajii used her trunk to gently nudge a fallen branch out of her way before settling into the shade of a nearby tree. She moved with purpose, with grace that ignored her size. Her very steps felt like punctuation marks on a sentence older than language.

"She reminds me of Bramble," Sam murmured. "But quieter. Sadder, maybe." Vael nodded slowly. "Like she remembers something we've all forgotten." The children had moved on. The keeper followed. But Sam and Vael remained, hands brushing lightly, watching the great creature stand beneath the trees as the sun painted gold across her back. It was the kind of silence that didn't demand words. The kind that felt holy.

They continued down a narrower, winding path where the trees grew closer and the light dimmed beneath their canopies. Fewer people were here. The air cooled slightly, and the sound of the elephant's last trumpet call faded behind them like a receding storm.

Sam brushed a hand through his hair. "This part's quieter." Vael tilted her head. "I think we're in the predator section." He smirked. "Perfect. Just what I needed. A reminder that not everything with fur wants to cuddle."

As they rounded a bend, a new enclosure came into view, low to the ground, surrounded by stone walls and tall shadowed glass. Jungle flora grew thick inside, branches twisted with hanging moss, vines tangled around dark rocks.

A small sign stood at the edge:

UMBRAVA , BLACK PANTHER

Species: Shadowclaw Panthera

Born in captivity. Solitary. Highly intelligent. Approach glass with caution.

Vael leaned in first, peering through the dim reflections on the glass. "Don't see it," she murmured. "Maybe it's sleeping." Sam stepped up beside her. "Or maybe it's, " A flash of movement, black on black. And then WHAM. The panther slammed into the glass with its full weight, teeth bared, golden eyes wild and wide.

Vael gasped, stumbling back. But Sam didn't flinch. His body moved before thought, shoving Vael behind him, his left hand outstretched. The bark erupted across his arms like a cresting wave, cracking, living wood racing down from shoulder to palm, encasing his forearms in a shield of gnarled protection. His skin pulsed with bioluminescent glow, faint and flickering like mosslit coals beneath the surface.

And at the center of his chest, where his tunic parted slightly, the amber heart glowed fiercely, a steady thrum of heat and life, pulsing brighter with adrenaline. The panther snarled, pacing now just beyond the glass, its tail lashing low to the ground. It hissed once, more warning than rage, then slunk back into the dark.

Only silence followed. Vael placed her hand gently on Sam's back, just between the shifting bark plates. "You okay?" she asked softly. He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as the bark began to recede, crumbling softly like old leaves, then vanishing into skin once more. The glow in his veins dimmed to a dull shimmer. The amber at his chest quieted with a final, fading pulse.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just… reflex." Vael stepped beside him again, her eyes searching his. "That was a good one." Sam snorted. "My finest jump scare yet. Congratulations to the panther." They stared for another long second into the gloom beyond the glass, where the shape of the panther had already vanished again into shadow.

Sam shook his head. "Let's find something that doesn't want to eat us." Vael looped her arm through his. "Pygmy lion?" He laughed. "Pygmy lion." And they walked on, sunlight slowly returning as the path curved back toward brighter things.

They walked in easy silence, the echo of Sam's pulse still settling beneath his skin. Vael hadn't let go of his arm. The path brightened as they left the predator grove behind, the trees thinning into sunlight once more. Laughter carried from somewhere ahead, young voices again, joyful, light. Sam glanced toward a wooden sign painted with vines and silver lettering:

WILDER BURROW – FOX ENCLAVE

Species: Ember-Tailed Fox

Disposition: Curious. Do not feed. Will absolutely try to trick you.

The enclosure itself was a winding series of burrows and mossy outcroppings enclosed by low glass. Flowering shrubs dotted the habitat, and a small stone stream curled through the center, fed by a quiet trickle of water. At first, the place seemed empty. Then Sam spotted it.

A single fox, fur red-gold and silver-dusted, with a tail so fluffy it looked like it belonged in a painter's dream, perched atop a smooth boulder in a shaft of sunlight. It was lying on its back.

Feet curled.

Belly up.

Tongue slightly out.

Eyes closed.

And absolutely, unmistakably, pretending to be dead. Sam blinked. "Is it… okay?" The fox cracked one eye open. Saw them watching. And immediately rolled over, sprang upright, and struck a perfect sit pose, tail wrapped neatly around its paws, head tilted just so, eyes wide with practiced innocence.

Vael laughed, covering her mouth. "Oh my gods. It's a performer." The fox perked its ears at the sound, then trotted closer to the glass, dainty and smug, like it was used to admiration. It sniffed once at Vael, then at Sam, then turned and dove dramatically into a pile of leaves, rolling over like it had just invented joy.

"Okay," Sam admitted, "that's adorable." Vael smiled. "I want one."

"You say that about everything with paws."

"I haven't said it about you yet." Sam grinned. "Yet." The fox rolled again, tail flicking with flourish, then bounded up the hill to vanish into a burrow. Vael leaned against the rail. "If the pygmy lion is even half that charming, I'm in trouble." Sam offered his hand. "Come on, then. Let's meet your next obsession." And side by side, they turned back toward the winding path and the pygmy lion enclosure just ahead, where wonder still waited.