“She says to moisten a piece of cloth—a T-shirt, maybe? Or a hand towel?—and then drip water into its mouth.”

“Then do it,” Livvy said anxiously. How useless she felt!

“Catarina gave me a hot water bottle too,” Ty said. He reached into the box and unwrapped the bundle of blanket enough to put the hot water bottle in as well. Then he began to drip water onto the lynx’s mouth until the fur was wet all around its face.

Ty was more patient than Livvy thought she could have been. He dipped the smallest section of T-shirt sleeve into a bowl of water and then wrung it out gently, until the animal’s mouth opened and a pink tongue poked out. Ty dripped water onto the tongue, and when the lynx swallowed it, he picked up the bowl and tipped it slowly so that the lynx could drink without moving its head. After that, he tore the chicken into small pieces and fed the pieces to it. The lynx ate ravenously, making small, angry noises.

At last the chicken was gone. “Go get more,” Livvy said.

Ty said, “No. Catarina said not to let it eat too much at first.” He tucked a towel in around the lynx, and then covered over the box with a jacket. “We’ll let it sleep now. I’ll give it more later.”

“What about a name? Are you going to give it a name?”

Ty scratched his head. Livvy saw, with a pang, that he had the faintest beginnings of a beard on his face. But he, of course, would continue to grow older. One day he would be a man, but she would always be a child. Ty said, gaze fixed on one black-tipped ear, all that was visible of the lynx, “But we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“Then we can give it a gender-neutral name,” Livvy said. “Like Stripes or Hero or Commander Kitty.”

“Let’s see if it lives first,” Ty said. By mutual agreement, they put off the plan to test Livvy’s capabilities to bypass the boundaries of Idris until the next day. Ty attended his classes, and Livvy watched over the lynx, and in between Ty’s classes he supplied their ever more lively captive with scraps of food and bowls of milk. By the time the dinner bells were ringing, they had ascertained the lynx’s gender and Ty’s arms were bloody with scratches. But the lynx was asleep and purring in his lap.

There was a makeshift litter box in the closet, and as it turned out, Ty’s fidget toys also made excellent cat toys.

“Irene,” Ty said. Once again, Livvy saw, he was smiling. “Let’s call her Irene.”