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Margaret’s eyes filled with tears. “She hasn’t let me near her in six weeks.” Back at the truck, Lena explained. “Llamas are creatures of routine and social bonding. Your son wasn’t just a feeder—he was Pele’s secondary attachment figure after you. When he left, you stepped into his role. But you smell like you, not like him. You move like you, not like him. To Pele’s mind, a familiar routine was being performed by a stranger. That’s terrifying for a prey animal.”

“Margaret took over the morning feed.” Margaret’s eyes filled with tears

Margaret stopped twenty feet away, her hands trembling slightly around the grain bucket. Your son wasn’t just a feeder—he was Pele’s

Margaret’s voice came out small at first. “Hey, Pretty Girl. Mornin’, sweet pea.” The same singsong phrases she’d heard her son say a hundred times. You move like you, not like him