“What is he doing?” Sarah asked, her voice trembling with awe.
“He’s protecting the perimeter,” I replied, a lump forming in my throat. “He’s guarding her.”
Malaki sat there, a wall of black muscle, a silent sentinel who never once looked back at the girl, but whose presence ensured that no other gorilla in the enclosure dared to approach. He was holding the line.
I took a breath, the first deep one I’d taken in five minutes. “Now,” I commanded the rescue team through the radio. “Move in. Slowly. Keep your voices low and rhythmic. Malaki has given us permission.”
