She spoke softly to the sleeping cub, promising waves and warmth and a waiting guardian. The roadside thermometer read forty-three degrees; she cranked the heater, conscious of every shiver.
When she reached the dune lot, dawn softened the horizon. Heart loud in her ears, she peered toward the beach. No hulking silhouette. The tide foamed against empty sand. Panic tightened her chest. Please still be here. She shut off the engine, listened—only gulls.