“She hasn’t moved,” Henrik said over the engine’s hum. “Not since she called out.” “She’s waiting to see what we’ll do,” Elias said, gripping the sides of the boat. “Or waiting to see if we’re food.” Neither of them laughed.
When they reached the edge of the pressure ridge, Henrik killed the engine. The skiff drifted gently against a slab of ice, and Elias grabbed the edge with his gloved hands. The bear stood less than twenty feet away—close enough that they could hear her breathing.