Bill froze, his heart hammering. His eyes followed the line of Daisy’s body, angled protectively, muscles coiled and taut. Something—or someone—was under her watchful guard.
A chill ran down his spine. “What… what’s she protecting?” he whispered to himself.
Slowly, he crept closer, careful not to startle her. Each step made the leaves crunch beneath his boots, and Daisy’s ears flicked, alert. Her low warning moo rumbled again, deeper this time, vibrating through the clearing. Bill’s stomach twisted. Whatever it was, it had Daisy on edge.
Finally, he saw it—a small bundle tucked near her hooves. At first, he couldn’t make sense of it. Then his heart lurched. Two tiny, trembling forms huddled together: calves? No… smaller, more fragile. He blinked. His mind raced. Could it be…?
Daisy’s eyes never left him. Her body remained a living shield, protecting the tiny creatures at her side. Bill swallowed hard, fighting the mix of relief and terror surging through him. She wasn’t being aggressive at him. She was defending something precious. Something vulnerable.
“What… what is this?” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Are they… safe?”
The bundle quivered slightly, and Bill’s pulse quickened. He needed to get closer, to help—but one wrong move could send Daisy into full defensive mode. Every instinct screamed at him to wait, to observe, to find a safe way to approach.
And yet, he couldn’t look away. Those tiny lives depended on him now, and Daisy’s unwavering vigilance made one thing clear: this moment would define everything.