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The missing piece

  Sometimes, nothing looks broken. You can examine the surface of a structure, trace its edges, and measure its dimensions, and everything will appear perfectly intact. Yet, somewhere deep inside the marrow of your own bones, you possess an unsettling awareness that the architecture is incomplete.   Alan was a lion, but he was not merely an ordinary predator surviving in the wild. He was the undisputed king of a vast, emerald forest where the sea of grass stretched endlessly beneath a scorching sun, where rivers cut glittering, silver paths through the ancient land, and where every breathing creature fundamentally understood the immense weight of his presence. Alan had not inherited his reputation; he had built it, claw by claw, decision by decision. He was the absolute protector of the territory. When the scent of rogue predators drifted on the evening wind, it was Alan who stood at the perimeter. He settled the bitter territorial disputes between the grazing herds. He d...
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