She begins to weakly raise her claw. A part of me begins to worry that she’ll give me away to save her own scales. But a much larger part of me knows her better than that. She finally points to a zebra. At first, I think it’s me. But a moment passes before I see the very slight angle of her finger, and realize she was pointing to a zebra next to me. And that zebra begins to freak out, yelling something unintelligible through his muzzle.