“We’re still working,” he called. “Pressure’s low. We’re warming IV fluids to body temp.” He vanished before she could ask another question. She sank back down, tears threatening. Pressure low. That sounded almost final.
Another twenty minutes passed. She replayed every moment on the beach: the bear’s silent approach, the guiding walk, the tangled mess of netting. She remembered the cub’s ribs, sharp beneath sludge, and wondered how something that small could still fight.