The Odin’s Mercy groaned against the floes like it knew it shouldn’t stay. Elias climbed down last, the rope ladder slippery under his boots. He landed awkwardly and looked up—the bear was still there, standing on the ice ridge beside the trapped cub. Watching. Waiting.
“God help us,” he muttered. Henrik started the skiff’s small outboard, and they pushed forward into the maze of shifting ice. Visibility dropped fast. Everything was white and gray and echoing. Their only point of reference was the hulking silhouette of the bear ahead.