It looked like it had been left mid-packing. She reached in and tugged the journal free. Its leather cover was soft and cracked, the corners curled from moisture and use. What struck her most was the small image pressed into the cover—a hand-etched design of a bear, surrounded by branches.
It was subtle, but deliberate. Evelyn opened it slowly. The first few pages were still intact. Neat handwriting filled the lines, dated a few weeks back. The writer—who never signed his name—had come here to observe wildlife. He wrote about long days watching from blinds, about black bears foraging near the river, about the thrill of silence.