Low fog blurred the horizon as Tessa spotted something huge bobbing in the surf, the way storm-tossed logs sometimes float along the coast. She kept walking, sand hushing under her boots, until the shape raised a drenched head and paddled shore-ward with eerie, purposeful thrusts.
Water shrugged from a mountainous torso, revealing fur midnight-black and claws that carved half-moons into wet sand. Tessa’s lungs seized. Bears could roam these beaches, she knew, but watching one erupt from the ocean felt impossible, a nightmare stitched to reality by the pounding of her own pulse.
It advanced three silent paces, nose lifting to taste her fear, amber eyes unblinking. Tessa backed away, heel snagging in loose sand; she crashed hard, wind ripped out. The bear loomed above, steam furling from its muzzle, and she realized nothing stood between her and those teeth.