Chapter 3 — Lila’s Enthusiasm

Lila

The morning light filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled patterns on the weathered path leading to the makeshift veterinary clinic. Lila Chen jogged to keep up with Emily, her camera bouncing against her chest with each step. Her notebook, crammed with half-written observations and doodles of Mara, was tucked under her arm. The faint scent of damp earth and hay lingered in the air, mingling with the distant hum of cicadas and the occasional rustle of leaves from the nearby enclosures.

“So, what exactly are we doing today?” she asked, barely able to contain her excitement. Her words tumbled out in a rush, fueled by caffeine and the sheer thrill of being part of this sanctuary she’d dreamed of working in since winning her first wildlife photography contest.

Emily glanced sideways, her green eyes softening for a moment before returning to the path ahead. “A porcupine has a cracked quill. Simple enough, but it’s delicate work. You’ll assist, but remember—slow and steady. The last thing we want is to stress her out.”

Lila nodded earnestly, gripping her notebook tighter. “Got it. Slow and steady.” She repeated the words under her breath like a mantra. Her hands twitched with nervous energy as she tried to match Emily’s calm stride. The buzz of cicadas grew louder as they approached the clinic, the building’s weathered walls blending into the surrounding greenery. Everything about this place felt alive, and Lila drank it in, her eyes darting between the trees and the glimpses of enclosures beyond them. Somewhere in the distance, Mara’s low, resonant trumpet carried on the breeze, grounding her in the heart of the zoo’s mission. The sound filled her with awe, a powerful reminder of why she was here. She couldn’t let anyone down—not Emily, not the animals, and not herself.

When they entered the clinic, the atmosphere shifted. The space was small and functional, the metallic tang of antiseptic thick in the air. A stainless-steel table stood in the center of the room, flanked by shelves stuffed with medical supplies. A small heater in the corner hummed softly, casting a faint warmth over the room. Lila’s gaze lingered on the shelves, noting the worn, neatly labeled bottles and boxes that spoke of resourcefulness and care. A faded photograph of an elephant—Mara as a much younger matriarch—was pinned to a corkboard on the wall. Lila paused, thinking of the zoo’s history and how much it had endured, just like Mara.

The porcupine, a petite, quivering creature named Clover, was already waiting for them, nestled in a padded crate. Her black eyes darted around the room as Emily approached, murmuring soothing words. “Hey there, sweet girl. Let’s take a look at you.”

Lila hung back, watching as Emily gently coaxed Clover onto the table. Her movements were precise, almost rhythmic, as though she and the animal shared an unspoken understanding. Lila scribbled furiously in her notebook, noting every detail: Clover’s glossy quills, the faint tremor of her paws, the way Emily’s hands moved with practiced care. A pang of admiration and self-doubt flickered in her chest. Would she ever be as confident, as steady, as Emily?

“Lila,” Emily said, breaking her concentration. “I need you to hold her head steady while I check the quill.”

Lila froze for a fraction of a second before stepping forward, her heart pounding. She set her notebook aside and reached out, her hands trembling slightly. Clover’s fur was surprisingly soft beneath her fingers, and for a moment, Lila marveled at the connection between them. This was why she had come here—to be part of something real, something that mattered.

“Steady,” Emily reminded her, her tone calm but firm.

Lila adjusted her grip, trying to steady her breathing. But her nerves got the better of her. As Emily reached for the damaged quill with a pair of tweezers, Clover twitched, letting out a sharp squeak. Lila flinched, loosening her hold just enough for the porcupine to shift on the table.

“Careful!” Emily’s voice was sharper now, though not unkind. She quickly steadied Clover with one hand while continuing her work with the other.

“I’m sorry,” Lila muttered, her cheeks burning. Her hands hovered near Clover, unsure whether to try again. “Is she okay? Did I hurt her?”

“She’s fine,” Emily said, her tone softening as she focused on removing the broken quill. “But animals are sensitive to stress. If we’re not careful, it can affect their recovery—or even make them sick. You have to stay calm, no matter what.” Her words were firm but devoid of judgment, and Lila tried to absorb them, nodding slowly.

Emily worked quickly to clean the area and apply a small bandage, her focus unwavering. When she finished, she gave Clover a gentle pat before returning her to the crate. “All done,” she said softly, her tone lightening. She looked at Lila, who was still rooted to the spot, her hands hovering uselessly in midair. “You did fine. Just try to stay calm next time. Animals can sense when you’re nervous.”

Lila nodded, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

Emily’s expression softened into a small, rare smile. “You’re learning. That’s what matters.” She turned back to cleaning the instruments, adding as an afterthought, “I made plenty of mistakes when I started out too. Once, I spooked a meerkat so badly it took two hours to coax him out of hiding.”

Lila blinked, surprised by the admission, and a tiny spark of relief flickered in her chest. Maybe she wasn’t so hopeless after all. Her hands still trembled slightly, but determination began to take root beneath her lingering embarrassment. She wouldn’t let this define her.

As they cleaned up the clinic, Lila’s mind raced. She replayed the moment over and over, dissecting her mistake and Emily’s reaction. The disappointment she felt in herself was heavy, but beneath it was the flicker of a new resolve. She’d prove to herself—and to Emily—that she belonged here.

Later that afternoon, Lila found herself in the Keeper’s Office, her notebook open to a fresh page. She had been sent to document inventory, but the task was quickly forgotten when she spotted the presentation materials spread across Emily’s desk. Charts, diagrams, and marketing mock-ups filled the space, all stamped with the logo of a consulting firm.

Daniel Carter’s name was scrawled in the corner of a slide titled “Zoo Modernization Proposal.” Lila couldn’t resist flipping through the pages, her curiosity piqued. The presentation was sleek and professional, filled with phrases like “revenue streams” and “visitor engagement metrics.” It was a stark contrast to the zoo’s rustic charm, but something about it intrigued her. She trailed her fingers over the polished pages, wondering if these ideas could actually save the zoo—or if they risked losing its soul.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She looked up to see Daniel himself standing in the doorway, his tailored suit slightly out of place against the worn wood and faded posters of the office. He raised an eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and curiosity.

“Looking for something?” he asked, his voice smooth but not unkind.

Lila flushed, quickly closing the folder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I was just… curious.”

Daniel stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Curiosity’s good. It’s how we grow.” He picked up one of the slides and held it out to her. “What do you think?”

Lila hesitated, glancing at the sleek design. “It’s… really different. I mean, it looks impressive, but... it’s not what the zoo is now. Maybe that’s the point?”

Daniel chuckled, a low, thoughtful sound. “Exactly. The zoo has potential, but it needs to evolve. People don’t just want to see animals anymore—they want an experience, something they can share on social media or remember for years.”

Lila nodded slowly, her mind racing. She thought of her own photos, the way she tried to capture moments that felt timeless yet fleeting. “But… doesn’t that risk losing what makes the zoo special? It’s not just about the animals—it’s about the connection people feel when they’re here.”

Daniel tilted his head, studying her. “You’re not wrong. The challenge is finding the balance. That’s what I’m here for.”

Lila chewed her lip, torn between her admiration for Emily’s values and the logic in Daniel’s words. “Do you think Emily will go for it?”

Daniel’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more contemplative expression. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

Before Lila could respond, Mara’s low, resonant trumpet echoed from her enclosure. It was a sound that always made Lila’s heart swell, a reminder of what had drawn her to the zoo in the first place. She glanced out the window toward Mara’s enclosure, her thoughts shifting once more.

“I should get back to work,” she said, closing the folder and gathering her notebook.

Daniel nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. “Keep an open mind, Lila. Sometimes change isn’t the enemy.”

As she walked back toward the enclosures, Lila’s thoughts swirled. She admired Emily deeply, but something about Daniel’s vision tugged at her. It was as though she were caught between two worlds—one rooted in tradition and the other reaching for something new. For now, she wasn’t sure where she fit, but she was determined to find out.