A sound split the stillness. A footstep. Behind her. Catherine froze. The sound came again more deliberate, heavy and far too close. She turned slowly. A man stepped out from behind the tent, his face half-covered with a faded scarf, the rest shadowed by the dim light. His eyes found hers instantly. Sharp, calculating.
“So it’s you,” he said, his voice low and even. “The woman from the yellow house.” Her heart stopped. “What?” He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Out there leaving scraps for the cub, calling the rangers every time it wandered back. You made it easy to find.”