The forest was still when Ryan unzipped his tent that morning. Mist hung low, and the smell of pine filled the air. He had camped deep in the Montana wilderness for three days, chasing peace and quiet after a rough year. It had been silent since he arrived. Too silent. Even the birds had stopped singing. But that morning, the air felt heavier, as if something unseen was watching. Ryan knelt by his fire, rubbing his hands for warmth. That’s when he heard it a deep, steady crunch of leaves behind him. He froze. Then another step. Slow, heavy, deliberate.

He turned his head slightly, barely breathing. Through the fog, a dark shape emerged between the trees. It was massive and moving straight toward him. His throat went dry. A bear. Ryan’s pulse exploded in his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. The bear stopped a few yards away, its breath puffing clouds into the cold morning air. It wasn’t growling. It was simply… watching.

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