But it wasn’t the wind. It was a whimper. She froze. Then it came again—clearer this time. A high, trembling cry. Not human. Not a bird. A sound born of pain and fear and confinement. She scrambled toward it, heart pounding. And there it was. The cub. A small bear with creamy white fur was tangled inside a net trap staked into the ground between two low trees.
Its eyes were wide and frightened, its paws scraped from trying to claw through the mesh. It let out another broken cry as Evelyn approached, flinching in panic. “Oh no,” she gasped. “You poor thing…” She dropped to her knees, fumbling to untie the netting. The knot was tight, wrapped around twisted wire and stakes.