Bette’s stomach knotted at the sight of him, the reality of it all pressing hard against her chest. This wasn’t some faceless poacher, some distant threat… this was flesh and blood, fear-soaked and trembling, proof of the mess that had reached her doorstep.

“Inside,” she said, sharp and cold, waving them toward the back of the shed.

The quarantine shed was a utilitarian structure, built with a sense of practicality rather than comfort. The air inside carried the faint scent of antiseptic and animal smells. The walls were darkened by time and the occasional splash of rain, giving the place a quiet, almost forgotten feel. The overhead lights buzzed softly, casting a sterile, yellow glow that flickered intermittently, adding to the harsh atmosphere.

Metal shelving ran along the sides of the room, stocked with various veterinary supplies; bandages, syringes, bottles of antiseptic, and small jars of ointments. The floor was concrete, worn smooth from years of use, but it was dotted with stains from the animals that had passed through.

In the back corner was a small desk with a chair, a few open files scattered across its surface. A corkboard above the desk was littered with photos of animals and their progress, along with notes and diagrams.

At the far end of the shed were several pens made of sturdy metal bars. They were large enough for injured elephant calves, or the occasional young rhino, but not for anything larger. The space was minimal, designed to keep the animals separated from one another while they recovered or were monitored for signs of illness. In one of the pens, Bette had placed a small cot for herself on the rare occasion when she had to stay overnight to monitor a particularly sick animal.

Despite its practical function, the shed had an unsettling feeling of isolation. It was a place for separation whether for quarantine or safety, but also for difficult decisions. Bette had spent countless hours here, keeping watch over the animals, trying to ensure they survived the things they couldn’t control. Now, as the group gathered inside, the space felt colder than it usually did. The anticipation of what they were about to face weighed heavily in the air.

As they moved him past her, Kamau cast a glance at her and in that brief flicker of eye contact, Bette saw it: the raw, unfiltered terror of a man who knew he had crossed a line, and there was no going back.