Once, many years ago, Michael worked as a volunteer at a wildlife shelter not far from Nairobi.
That’s where he first saw a tiny lion cub — weak, with a scratched muzzle and eyes full of fear.
The cub’s mother had died, and he was left all alone.
Michael picked him up, named him Kai, and for several months lived with him: fed him from a bottle, brushed his mane, taught him not to fear rain and thunder.
When Kai grew up, he was moved to a reserve so he could live freely.
Michael left — feeling as if he had left a part of himself behind.
Eleven years passed.
Michael returned to Kenya as a tourist. He didn’t plan to look for anyone, he just wanted to see the animals he once helped to save.
But during one of the excursions, the guide suddenly said:
— See that one there? That’s Kai. He became the calmest of all. But he doesn’t go near people. Never.
Michael asked to stop the car.
He stepped onto the hot ground of the savannah.
The lion stood in the shade of an acacia tree — huge, golden, confident. His mane moved in the wind, his eyes calm.
Michael took a few steps.
The guide whispered:
— Don’t come closer, it’s dangerous!
But the lion didn’t move.
He just watched.
A second. Two. And suddenly — a roar, a heavy step…
The lion rushed forward.
Everyone screamed.
Someone grabbed a weapon.
Michael froze — not from fear, but from recognition.
He knew that look.
The lion ran up, stopped half a meter away — and… gently pushed his head against Michael’s chest, as if pressing against him.
Michael wrapped his arms around his neck.
The huge mane, warm, smelling of sun and dust, trembled under his hands.
The lion purred — not with a growl, but with a soft hum.
The guide couldn’t believe his eyes.
Two minutes of silence — man and beast just stood there, embracing.
When Kai stepped back, he looked at Michael, as if smiling with his eyes, and slowly walked back to his pride.
Michael wiped his face.
— He didn’t forget, — he said. — He just waited for me to return.
