In a quieter part of the city, Noah, a fair-skinned young man with wavy brown hair and green eyes, walked alongside his black Doberman, Zeus. He wore a dark gray hoodie, military-style pants, and sports sneakers. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings — a trait inherited from the profession he loved: veterinary medicine.
Zeus, athletic and alert-eared, maintained a rigid posture. Something was bothering him.
— Calm down, boy. — Noah murmured, gently stroking the dog's ear.
Zeus let out a short bark, tugging the leash toward a pile of rubble. Noah followed.
— What is it? Is there something there?
Amid twisted iron and broken concrete, a faint sound echoed — a meow… no, a muffled roar.
Noah knelt down. Beneath a wide plank, a lion cub, golden fur dirty with dust and blood, trembled. The wound on its belly was shallow but needed care.
— Hey, it's okay… — Noah said in a calm voice.
Gently, he pulled the cub out and began examining the injury. He improvised a bandage with strips from his shirt and first aid supplies from his kit.
The cub licked his hand in gratitude. Its curious eyes turned toward Zeus, who approached slowly. After a few tense seconds, the two animals touched noses.
— I think you two are going to get along.
Noah smiled, picking up the cub in his arms.
— What name suits you, huh…? Something strong, but beautiful…
He looked up at the sky.
— Simba. You'll be Simba.
Zeus barked once, as if approving. Noah laughed.
Now with Simba in his arms and Zeus by his side, Noah continued walking through the broken streets.
Even amid collapse, bonds were being formed.
Unexpected bonds.
But true ones.