The School of the Rising Stars had settled into a rhythm.
The children arrived each morning with varying degrees of enthusiasm, their voices rising in a chaotic symphony of chatter and laughter. They gathered on the woven mats, their eyes bright, their tails swishing, their bodies barely containing the restless energy that came with being young and wild and alive.
But there was one child who did not join the chaos.
Xīng. The little jaguar cub.
The jaguar cub sat at the edge of the school space, her spotted fur sleek and dark, her eyes fixed on the ground. Her tail was wrapped tightly around her legs, and her small hands were clasped in her lap. She did not fidget like the others. She did not whisper to her neighbors. She did not raise her hand to answer questions.
She simply sat, silent and still, like a statue carved from shadow.
