She lifted the crate, boots slipping on loose grit, and felt the carrier’s weight dig into her forearms. The path twisted between dune grass rattling like dry bones. Every few yards she paused to check the cub’s shallow breaths before forcing herself onward, whispering encouragement meant as much for her as for it.
At the tideline she set the carrier on damp sand. Dawn’s light had sharpened; gulls screamed, circling above the foam‑fringed break. Tessa pivoted slowly, scanning the vast shore. Nothing—only rolling surf, tattered kelp, and distant stacks of basalt glowing pink. “Come on,” she pleaded, voice thin against the wind. “I brought her back.”