{"product_id":"fierce-kingdom-isbn-9780735224520","title":"Fierce Kingdom","description":"\u003cb\u003eOne of the New York Times Book Review's Best Crime Novels of 2017\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Warning: you'll finish this in one sitting.” —TheSkimm  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Expertly made thriller . . . clever and irresistible.” —\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn electrifying novel about the primal and unyielding bond between a mother and her son, and the lengths she’ll go to protect him.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The zoo is nearly empty as Joan and her four-year-old son soak up the last few moments of playtime. They are happy, and the day has been close to perfect. But what Joan sees as she hustles her son toward the exit gate minutes before closing time sends her sprinting back into the zoo, her child in her arms. And for the next three hours—the entire scope of the novel—she keeps on running.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Joan’s intimate knowledge of her son and of the zoo itself—the hidden pathways and under-renovation exhibits, the best spots on the carousel and overstocked snack machines—is all that keeps them a step ahead of danger.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA masterful thrill ride and an exploration of motherhood itself—from its tender moments of grace to its savage power—\u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e asks where the boundary is between our animal instinct to survive and our human duty to protect one another. For whom should a mother risk her life?“A heart-thumping thriller . . . The story flies by like a gazelle being chased by a lion and is easily consumed in a single sitting.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—The New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Heart-stopping . . . A stunning novel you'll be talking about all summer long.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Bustle\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A shot of pure adrenaline. But it’s not just the action that will keep you turning pages: \u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is a moving story too.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Entertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gin Phillips’s heartpounding novel will have readers questioning what lengths a mother would go to in order to save her child . . . or someone else’s.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Real Simple \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A page-turning, adrenaline-soaked read.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003e—The Guardian\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Extreme heart-pounding adventure, right this way. \u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is the perfect summer thriller.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—HelloGiggles\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The premise of this novel will send chills down the spine of any parent—and keep them turning pages into the wee hours.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eNewsday\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“\u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is gripping and almost impossible to put down.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Atlanta Journal-Constitution\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Because we make fun of helicopter parents for the lengths they go to to keep perfectly safe children even safer, we can can forget that, for children, safety is a kind of love—and that makes \u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e a terrifying book, but more importantly, a beautiful one.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—NPR\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“By introducing the threat of violence, the book amplifies everyday domestic concerns, producing a kind of crystallization of the experience of parenthood.”\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e—The New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“Fierce Kingdom \u003c\/i\u003eunfolds at a rapid-fire pace with each chapter upping the tension and danger.” \u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A powerhouse of a read that balances empathy and fear as it poses complex questions about human nature.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Washington Independent Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This heroine proves that a mom protecting her son is indisputably the fiercest creature in the animal world.” \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eRedBook\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is a novel that crackles with tension and danger. . . . Do yourself a favor and devour this book before the inevitable movie premiere.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—New York Journal of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This adrenaline-fueled thriller shows the animal instinct of one mother's love and the ferocity with which she fights to protect her son.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Read it Forward\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It tore at every maternal fiber in my body. I couldn’t put it down.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Fiona Barton, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Widow\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is a bold exploration of the ferocity of a mother’s love—riveting and beautiful, and all too real. You’ll find yourself asking, \u003ci\u003ewhat would I do?\u003c\/i\u003e It’s brilliant.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Shari Lapena, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Couple Next Door\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“I devoured it in one breathless sitting. Outstanding.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Clare Mackintosh, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eI Let You Go\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This is an elegant, taut, and tense survival story that explores the boundaries of parental love. By pitting love against fear, Gin Phillips questions the opposing forces of family bonds and shows how fierce one mother’s love can be.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e —Claire Cameron, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Last Neanderthal\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Bear\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I loved this book not only as a mother, but as a woman—and a feminist—living in a world teeming with pressing domestic details along with unpredictable, casual violence.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e —Susanna Daniel, award-winning author of \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eSea Creatures\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Phillips’ characters are exquisitely rendered, her prose is artful and evocative . . . Poignant and profound, this adrenaline-fueled thriller will shatter readers like a bullet through bone.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A searing exploration of motherhood at its most basic.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Phillips manages to combine beautiful imagery with heart-pounding, nerve-fraying intensity. . . . Fans of literary page-turners, like Sunil Yapa’s \u003ci\u003eYour Heart Is a Muscle the Size of a Fist\u003c\/i\u003e, won’t want to miss this.”\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eFierce Kingdom\u003c\/i\u003e is stunning and extraordinary; keep the defibrillator handy.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Shelf Awareness (starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eGin Phillips\u003c\/b\u003e is the award-winning author of \u003ci\u003eThe Well and the Mine\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eCome In and Cover Me\u003c\/i\u003e. She lives in Birmingham, Alabama, with her family.4:55 p.m.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For a long while Joan has managed to balance on the balls of her      bare feet, knees bent, skirt skimming the dirt. But now her thighs      are giving out, so she puts a hand down and eases onto the sand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Something jabs at her hip bone. She reaches underneath her leg and      fishes out a small plastic spear-no longer than a finger-and it is      no surprise, because she is always finding tiny weapons in      unexpected places.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Did you lose a spear?\" she asks. \"Or is this one a scepter?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lincoln does not answer her, although he takes the piece of      plastic from her open hand. He apparently has been waiting for her      lap to become available-he backs up, settling himself comfortably      on her thighs, not a speck of sand on him. He has a fastidiousness      about him; he never did like finger painting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you want a nose, Mommy?\" he asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I have a nose,\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you want an extra one?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Who wouldn't?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His dark curls need to be cut again, and he swipes them off his      forehead. The leaves float down around them. The wooden roof,      propped up on rough, round timber, shades them completely, but      beyond it, the gray gravel is patterned with sunlight and shadows,      shifting as the wind blows through the trees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Where are you getting these extra noses?\" she asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The nose store.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She laughs, settling back on her hands, giving in to the feel of      the clinging dirt. She flicks a few wettish grains from under her      fingernails. The Dinosaur Discovery Pit is always damp and cold,      never touched by the sun, but despite the sand on her skirt and      the leaves stuck to her sweater, this is perhaps her favorite part      of the zoo-off the main paths, past the merry-go-round and the      petting barn and the rooster cages, back through the weedy, wooded      area labeled only woodlands. It is mostly trees and rocks and a      few lonely animals back here along the narrow gravel paths: There      is a vulture that lives in a pen with, for some reason, a      rusted-out pickup truck. An owl that glares at a hanging chew toy.      Wild turkeys that are always sitting, unmoving; she is not      positive that they actually have legs. She imagines some cruel      hunter's prank, some sweat-stained necklace strung with turkey      feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She likes the haphazard strangeness of these woods, which are      always shifting into some halfhearted try at an actual attraction.      Currently a zip line is strung through the trees, although she      never sees anyone zip-lining. She remembers animatronic dinosaurs      here a couple of years earlier, and once there was a haunted ghost      trail. There are hints at more distant incarnations: large      boulders that she assumes are real but possibly are not, plus      split-log fences and a pioneer cabin. No obvious purpose to any of      it. Empty cement pools might have been watering holes for large      mammals. There are occasional efforts at a nature trail, random      signage that makes a walk feel less anchored rather than more-one      tree labeled sassafras while the twenty trees around it go      nameless.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Now, let me tell you something,\" Lincoln begins, his hand landing      on her knee. \"Do you know what Odin could use?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She does, in fact, know a great deal about Norse gods lately.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"An eye store?\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, actually. Because then he could stop wearing his eye patch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Unless he likes his eye patch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Unless that,\" Lincoln agrees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sand around them is scattered with small plastic heroes and      villains-Thor and Loki; Captain America, Green Lantern, and Iron      Man. Everything comes back to superheroes lately. Pretend      skeletons lurk beneath them in this sand pit-the vertebrae of some      extinct animal protrude from the sand behind them, and there is a      bucket of worn-down paintbrushes for brushing off the sand. She      and Lincoln used to come here and dig for dinosaur bones, back in      his former life as a three-year-old. But now, two months after his      fourth birthday, he is several incarnations past his old      archaeologist self.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The dinosaur pit is currently the Isle of Silence, the prison      where Loki, Thor's trickster brother, has been imprisoned,      and-when questions of extra noses don't arise-the air has been      echoing with the sounds of an epic battle as Thor tries to make      Loki confess to creating a fire demon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lincoln leans forward, and his epic resumes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The vile villain cackled,\" Lincoln narrates. \"But then Thor had      an idea!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He calls them his stories, and they can last for hours if she lets      them. She prefers the ones where he invents his own characters.      He's concocted a villain named Horse Man, who turns people into      horses. His nemesis is Horse Von, who turns those horses back into      people. A vicious cycle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Joan is half-aware of Lincoln's voice changing tones and      inflections as he takes his different characters through their      paces. But she is pleasantly drifting. In the mornings these paths      would be crowded with strollers and mothers in yoga pants, but by      late afternoon most visitors have cleared out. She and Lincoln      come here sometimes after she picks him up from school-they      alternate between the zoo and the library and the parks and the      science museum-and she steers him to the woods when she can. Here      there are crickets, or something that sounds like crickets, and      birds calling and leaves rustling but no human sounds except for      Lincoln calling out his dialogue. He has absorbed the patter of      superhero talk, and he can regurgitate it and make it his own.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"There was a secret weapon on his belt!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"His evil plan had failed!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He is vibrating with excitement. Every part of him is shaking,      from the balls of his feet to his chuffy fists. Thor bobs through      the air, and Lincoln bounces, and she wonders if he loves the idea      of good conquering evil or simply an exciting battle, and she      wonders when she should start making it clear that there is a      middle ground between good and evil that most people occupy, but      he is so happy that she does not want to complicate things.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you know what happens then, Mommy?\" he asks. \"After Thor      punches him?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What?\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She has perfected the art of being able to listen with half of      herself while the other half spins and whirls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Loki has actually been mind-controlling Thor. And the punch makes      him lose his powers!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh,\" she says. \"And then what?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Thor saves the day!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He keeps talking-\"But there's a new villain in town, boys!\"-as she      curls and straightens her toes. She thinks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She thinks that she still needs to come up with a wedding present      for her friend Murray-there is that artist who does dog paintings,      and one of those seems like a thoughtful choice, so she should      send an e-mail and see about placing the order, although \"order\"      is probably an insulting sort of word to an artist. She remembers      that she meant to call her great-aunt this morning, and she thinks      that maybe instead-she is solving problems left and right here,      having a burst of mental efficiency as Loki gets buried in      sand-maybe instead she will mail her great-aunt that hilarious      paper bag monkey that Lincoln made in school. Surely the artwork      is better than a phone call, although there's a certain      selfishness to it, since she hates to talk on the phone, and, all      right, it is a cop-out-she knows it-but she settles on the paper      bag monkey regardless. She thinks of the squash dressing her      great-aunt makes. She thinks of the leftover plantain chips in the      kitchen cabinet. She thinks of Bruce Boxleitner. Back in junior      high she was slightly obsessed with him in Scarecrow and Mrs.      King, and she has discovered that the show is available in its      entirety online, so she has been rewatching it, episode by      episode-it holds up well for a 1980s show, with its Cold War spies      and bad hair-and she can't remember whether Lee and Amanda finally      kiss at the end of the second season or the third season, and she      has six more episodes to go in the second season, but she could      always skip to the third.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A woodpecker hammers somewhere nearby, and she is pulled back to      here and now. She notices that the wart on Lincoln's hand is      getting bigger. It looks like an anemone. There is that beautiful      shifting of shadows on the gravel, and Lincoln is doing his evil      villain laugh, and it strikes her that these afternoons with her      son's weight on her legs, the woods around them, are something      like euphoric.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thor falls against her foot, his plastic head landing on her toe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mommy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why doesn't Thor wear his helmet in the movie?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I think it's harder to see with a helmet on.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"But doesn't he want his head protected?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I suppose sometimes he wears it and sometimes he doesn't.      Depending on his mood.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I think he should protect his head all the time,\" he says. \"It's      dangerous to battle without a helmet. Why do you think Captain      America only wears a hood? It's not good protection, is it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Paul gets bored with this superhero chatter-her husband would much      rather talk football formations and NBA lineups-but Joan doesn't      mind it. She was once obsessed with Wonder Woman. Super Friends.      The Incredible Hulk. Who would win in a fight, she once asked her      uncle, Superman or the Incredible Hulk? He'd said, Well, if he was      losing, Superman could always fly away, and she'd thought that a      blindingly brilliant answer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Captain America has his shield,\" she tells Lincoln. \"That's what      he uses for protection.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What if he can't get it over his head in time?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He's very fast.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"But still,\" he says, unconvinced.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You know, you're right,\" she says, because he is. \"He really      should wear a helmet.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Some sort of man-made rock forms the back wall of the pit, beige      and bulging, and a small animal is rooting around behind it. She      hopes it is not a rat. She imagines a squirrel but makes a point      not to turn her head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She opens her purse to peer at her phone. \"We probably need to      start heading toward the gate in around five minutes,\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As he often does when she says it's time to stop playing, Lincoln      acts as if she has not spoken at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Does Dr. Doom always wear a mask?\" he asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Did you hear me?\" she asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What did I say?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That we're about to leave.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Okay,\" she says. \"Yes, Dr. Doom always wears a mask. Because of      his scars.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Scars?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah, the scars he got in the lab experiment.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why would he wear a mask because of them?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Because he wants to cover them up,\" she says. \"He thinks they're      ugly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why would he think they're ugly?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She watches a bright orange leaf land. \"Well, they made him look      different,\" she says. \"Sometimes people don't want to look      different.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't think scars are ugly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As he's speaking, a sharp, loud sound carries through the woods.      Two cracks, then several more. Pops, like balloons bursting. Or      fireworks. She tries to imagine what anyone could be doing in a      zoo that would sound like small explosions. Something related to      the Halloween festivities? They've strung up lights all over the      place-not here in the Woodlands but all over the more popular      pathways-so maybe a transformer blew? Is there construction going      on, a jackhammer?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There is another bang. Another and another. It sounds too loud to      be balloons, too infrequent to be a jackhammer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The birds are silent, but the leaves keep skittering down.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lincoln is unbothered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Could I use my Batman for Dr. Doom?\" he asks. \"He wears black.      And if I use him, can you make him the right kind of mask?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sure,\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What will you make it with?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Tinfoil,\" she suggests.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A squirrel scrabbles across the roof of the dirt pit, and she      hears the soft whoosh of its impact when it leaps to a tree.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And what will we use for the scarves?\" Lincoln asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She looks down at him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Scarves?\" she repeats.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He nods. She nods back, considering and replaying. She gives      herself over to deciphering the workings of his brain: it is one      of the bits of mothering that has delighted her all the more      because she did not know it existed. His mind is complicated and      unique, weaving worlds of its own. In his sleep sometimes he will      cry out entire sentences-\"Not down the stairs!\"-and there are      windows to his inner machinery, glimpses, but she will never      really know it all, and that is the thrill. He is a whole separate      being, as real as she is.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Scarves. She works the puzzle of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you mean the scarves on his face?\" she asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes. The ones he thinks are ugly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She laughs. \"Oh. I was saying 'scars'-you know, like the one on      Daddy's arm where the water burned him when he was little? Or the      one on my knee from when I fell down?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh,\" he says, sheepish. He laughs, too. He is quick to get a      joke. \"Scars, not scarves. So he doesn't think scarves are ugly?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't really know how Dr. Doom feels about scarves,\" she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He doesn't have them on his face.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No. Those are scars.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She listens, half considering whether she could have handled the      idea of scars more tactfully, half wondering about gunshots. But      they could not have been gunshots. And if they had been, she would      have heard something else by now. Screams or sirens or a voice      coming over a loudspeaker making some kind of announcement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There is nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She has been watching too many battles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She checks her phone. They only have a few minutes until the zoo      closes, and it is entirely possible that they might be overlooked      back here in the woods. She has imagined the scenario more than      once: camping in the zoo overnight, maybe even intentionally      hiding back here, going to visit the animals in the pitch-black of      midnight-children's books are written about such situations. It's      ridiculous, of course, because there surely would be security      guards. Not that she has ever noticed a security guard here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They should get moving.","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301395484901,"sku":"NP9780735224520","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780735224520.jpg?v=1767726844","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/fierce-kingdom-isbn-9780735224520","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}