Ryan hesitated at the edge of the clearing, every muscle tight. The bear’s movements were deliberate, almost gentle. It lowered its massive head and placed the object it carried onto the ground. Then it stood still, breathing heavily in the cold air. From where Ryan stood, he could see the faint color of fabric. It wasn’t prey. It looked like an old jacket, blue and torn, wrapped around something small. The bear didn’t move closer or show aggression. It just stared at him, as if waiting.

Ryan’s fear mixed with confusion. Why was the bear showing him this? He took a slow step forward, then another. The fog swirled between them like smoke. The bear’s ears twitched, but it didn’t move. Its eyes met his for one long, unbroken moment before it finally turned and began to lumber toward the trees. Ryan froze, breath shallow, watching until the massive shape disappeared into the mist. Then silence. Only the faint rustle of branches remained. He looked down at the fabric bundle lying in the damp grass, trembling slightly.

He crouched carefully, heart pounding, and reached out a hand. The cloth was soaked and cold. Something inside shifted weakly. Ryan pulled the bundle closer, his pulse racing. Whatever was inside was alive.