“All right,” Ted says, his voice light, “let’s see the owls, shall we?” He smiles down at Frieda, who seems not to have grasped anything beyond the invigorating roaring of the lions, then up again, searchingly, at Sylvia. “Shall we go?” he questions her.

Sylvia holds the handle of the pram. Amazingly, Nicholas is still asleep. She looks up again at Ted, then turns to the lion’s cage, releasing her grip. The keeper has pivoted the rabbit in his hands to slide it head-first through the grate. Its long, yellow-stained feet spring back in unison, devoid of any hint of life, like a piece of hardware, as they catch for a moment on the grate and then pass through.

Ted reaches for the pram with one hand. With the other he holds Frieda’s. “Sylvia,” he says quietly, “let’s go.” He starts to ease the pram away, out of the crowd.

The rabbit is sliding across the concrete, coming to a stop before the lion, who sits with his great head hung low on his shoulders. He eases his giant front paws down and out, to either side of his bunny; he lifts one paw and drapes it over the rabbit’s back. He sniffs. There are abbreviated scars, naked patches, in the short plush fur on the bridge of the lion’s wide nose, like tight tan velvet that has been scratched away, or a ripe cattail that has started to blow. The rabbit’s white fur feathers beneath the lion’s breath.

She’s shrugged Ted off. She doesn’t have to jump at his command any more. She’s not even looking in his direction, but she knows instinctively that he’s circling with the pram, looking back to see what she’s doing, trying not to look like he’s watching her.

And she’s right. He’s watching her, and he’s driving the big-wheeled pram and Frieda in a long, slow, curving arc across the lion house, moving toward the door while glancing occasionally backward, the pram’s broad chassis squeaking on its axles. Walking slowly, trying to seem like there’s not a lot of obvious thought powering his motion. Ted’s leaving as a lapwing leaves, flapping on the ground, feigning a broken wing at the edge of a meadow where its eggs are hidden.