The kudu herd lingered near the water trough, their sleek bodies half-hidden by the tall grass. Lottie, their matriarch, raised her head as Tina passed, her enormous ears twitching before she relaxed again, satisfied that all was as it should be. Peanut, the young, gangly hartebeest, lifted her head from where she had been nosing at a fallen branch, her oversized legs slightly unsteady beneath her. She let out a soft, snorting sound and took a few hesitant steps toward Tina.

“Still growing into those legs, huh?” Tina murmured, reaching out to give the hartebeest a gentle scratch along its neck. Peanut leaned into the touch, sighing heavily before bounding off in an awkward gallop toward the others.

The resident ostrich, an absurdly dignified creature named Malkia, peered at her with dark, intelligent eyes from across the yard before strutting across it like she owned it, her long legs carrying her in slow, deliberate steps as if she were above the chaos of the other animals. She had a habit of staring down visitors with an unnerving level of judgment, tilting her head as if deciding whether they were worth her time. If someone dared ignore her, she would peck indignantly at their pockets, convinced that all humans secretly carried snacks.

Tina smirked. “I know you already had breakfast,” she called, shaking her head as Malkia gave an impatient stomp, clearly unimpressed with Tina’s refusal to offer extra treats.

Tina moved through the lodge’s compound with the practised ease of someone who had long since made this place her own.

She walked past the main veranda, where the wooden beams were worn smooth from years of use, and down the well-trodden path toward the elephants’ dormitories and open grazing areas. The early morning sun slanted through the trees, casting long golden streaks across the ground.

She caught a glimpse of the smallest resident, as she moved past an abandoned crate which once contained apples and on which a little warthog was attempting to climb and failing.

She crouched beside the ornery little thing who had arrived as a scrappy orphan and had never quite lost his stubborn streak. “Morning, trouble,” she cajoled, scratching behind his bristly ear. He snorted, half in pleasure, half in protest, before trotting off to chase one of the staff carrying a basket of fruit.