Minutes crawled. Cold seeped through her jeans. She pictured the cub waking to hunger and pain with no comfort but grey sky. What if the mother had searched all night, grown frantic, and lumbered inland toward unknown dangers? The thought hollowed her chest with guilt sharp as a broken shell.
She paced small, restless loops, eyes sweeping the dunes. Footprints—hers from yesterday—were already smudged by shifting sand, erasing proof of the path that had joined human and bear. Tide crept higher, licking closer to the crate. Tessa dragged it up another yard, heart pounding at every muffled whimper within.