Something had happened here. Something important. And the bears wanted her to see it. Evelyn sat down on a fallen log beside the tent, the journal resting open on her lap. The pages ahead seemed darker—not just in content, but in tone. The once-orderly handwriting had grown messier, lines slanting sharply, words scribbled out and rewritten.
The writer’s calm fascination had started to twist into something more frantic. “The mother’s smart. She keeps the cub hidden most days. But I’ve mapped their territory now. It’s only a matter of time.” The next page was filled with sketches—rougher, done in haste. One showed a white-furred cub curled beside a much larger bear.