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But something was building between them.

Slow. Uneven. Unsaid.

And somewhere behind her calm, Seren knew—

Lia could feel it too.

And she wasn't going to let it go quietly.

It was a sunny day.

She hadn't meant to wander so far.

The forest had always whispered to her — calling with birdsong, light through leaves, the hush of unseen creatures — but today it had pulled.

A flash of movement had caught her eye.

A warbler, golden and quick, flitting between branches like sunlight given wings.

She'd followed it, deeper and deeper, until the trees thickened and the ground grew uneven, feral, untouched by tribe patrols.

She should have turned back when she saw the cave mouths, the still blue gleam of the lake beyond.

But the song of the bird tugged at her, and she just wanted—

One perfect shot.

Just as she raised the camera to her eye, she heard it.

A low, guttural growl.

The kind that raised every hair on her body.

She turned slowly.

The vegetation seemed to part, like a breath being drawn back into the earth.

And then—

A huge head parted the vegetation.

And then he stepped out.

Massive.

Easily seven feet tall at the shoulder, even on all fours. His fur was coarse and silver-tipped, his shoulders a mountain of muscle.

His face was long, dish-shaped, and his dark eyes held nothing but the weight of the wild.

Large yellowed teeth were visible through his open jaws, saliva thick and roping from his lips.

The grizzly bear made no sound now—only stalked forward, slow and sure, massive paws flattening the moss and fallen leaves beneath him.

She could smell him—earth and rot.

Don't run, she told herself.

You're not supposed to run.