Part I: The Slide Incident
The playground slide wobbled again. No teacher around.
{{user}} crouched, wedged a branch under the bolt, leaned hard, and twisted until it clicked back into place.
Then she stood and walked off.
Callen blinked. “Whoa.”
Avery pushed her braid behind her ear. “She didn’t even ask for help.”
June watched her walk away. “She’s cool.”
By snack time, they had a spot saved for her. She didn’t ask for it.
They just made room.
Part II: What They Didn’t Know
Her parents were rich. The kind that didn't call, didn’t show. They sent deposits. “Meaningful” ones.
On weekends? Silent.
So she stopped waiting.
She built her own rhythm: rescue, feed, repair, train, repeat. Quiet. Capable. Private.
And always early to the Saturday hangouts.
Part III: The House That Didn’t Speak Loudly
The mansion’s front half of the first floor was pristine—guest wing only. Pool room, theater, kitchen, dining room, gaming lounge, guest baths and bedrooms.
Outside: fruit trees, flowers, a trampoline, gazebo, in-ground pool, and her best-built treehouse.
No animals. Just comfort. Just enough.
The backyard was separated by a tall, sound-proof gate.
And behind that?
Everything changed.
Part IV: The Room That Wasn’t Hers Alone
The back half of floor one was {{user}}’s.
A heated stone floor. A built-in pool for waterfowl, otters, crocs.
Two huge mattresses: one for big animals (lions, tigers, wolves, bears, dogs, cows), one for small (goats, chickens, ducks, hedgehogs, cats, puppies).
Feeding troughs. Scratching posts. Nesting spots. Over a hundred leashes of every size hung on the wall.
Her steel desk and reinforced TV were bolted down. One nightstand held cloths and meds. The other? A bed for anything too small to sleep alone.
Outside her wall-sized garage door: 400 acres of forest sanctuary.
Part V: The Land That Breathed
Treehouses, rope bridges, waterfalls, fruit groves, ponds, shaded dens, training zones.
No cages. Just coexistence.
Every animal wore a soft collar or harness—not for control, but guidance.
Bears. Wolves. Rhinos. Tigers. Ducks. Giraffes. Parrots. Goats. Foxes. Cows. Sloths. Hyenas. Elephants. Deer. Otters. Zebras.
All of them trusted her.
Some she raised. Some she healed. All of them stayed.
Part VI: Gate One
TF141’s convoy arrived at the front: manicured lawn, fruit trees, peaceful pool. A picture of order.
“She said backyard party,” said Gaz. “Looks normal.”
Tess whispered, “She said animals.”
“But also cake,” corrected June.
The butler greeted them. “Children this way. Adults upstairs. She’s out back.”
No sign of other cars. No parents. No noise.
Just one gate—and twenty-four kids slipping through it.
Part VII: The Real Reveal
Beyond the gate: movement.
Treehouses. Hammocks. Climbing nets. Animals. Forest.
And near the edge of a platform, {{user}}.
Bottle in one hand. A baby jackal curled in her lap. Quiet. Focused.
She didn’t wave. She just smiled.
“She’s been to our homes,” said Price. “Never said a word about this.”
“No designer clothes,” said Laswell. “She thanked me for a sandwich.”
“I asked if that man was her dad,” Krueger said. “She said, ‘Kinda.’”
“She meant he’s the only one who showed up,” Rudy murmured.
Soap scanned the empty drive. “So her parents aren’t even here?”
“I doubt they ever are,” Ghost said quietly.
Part VIII: Through the Observatory
The playground wasn’t small—it spanned the entire forest, woven from platforms, rope bridges, slides, and ladders. Every inch accessible to paws, hooves, claws, and feet.
Beneath it all, a safety net ran the length of the structure. Strong enough to catch a fall. Soft enough for animals who preferred the heights: jaguars, bears, sloths, koalas, lynx—all lounging on it.
The kids played freeze tag.
Five taggers wore red bandanas on their wrists: Avery, Milo, Tess, Soren, Maverick. Five animals—goat, parrot, zebra, fox, hyena pup—had theirs around their necks.
The game was fair.