The tiger was nearly as tall as Milo's waist, and its paws were the size of dinner plates. It began to walk toward him.
It didn't run. It moved slowly, its shoulders rolling under its fur with every step. Its eyes were a bright, icy blue, and they were fixed directly on Milo.
"Aahhhh...." Milo's body went stiff. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs that it hurt. He felt a cold sweat break out all over his body.
He began to walk backward, his heels hitting the iron bars of the gate. He turned around and pressed his face against the cold metal, his fingers gripping the bars.
"Sir! Please! Get me out of here! He's going to eat me! Siiir, please!" Milo was begging now.
He didn't care about looking strong anymore. The fear was a physical weight in his chest.
Salvatore clicked his tongue. "Give the food, Milo," he said, his voice sounding impatient.
