A closer look revealed more details: half-frozen ropes, battered sleeping bags, and scattered cans. The poachers had set traps, each lined with wicked metal teeth glinting under the lantern glow. Nolan swallowed hard, careful not to disturb anything that might rattle or snap beneath his boots.
He glimpsed the silhouettes of men hunched over a makeshift table, their rifles laid within easy reach. Nearby, an entire stack of illegal pelts bore silent witness to past kills. Nolan’s pulse pounded, imagining what fate might await the polar bear mother if he failed tonight.