Then it moved, not toward the forest, not toward her, but sideways, slipping down from the porch and into the grass. Within seconds, it vanished into the dark. Catherine stayed where she was, frozen between fear and curiosity, until the forest stilled again.
She waited for another sound, a growl, a footstep, anything, but the night only offered back the steady rhythm of crickets. When she finally exhaled, it was shaky and uneven. She pressed her hand to the window glass, cool and trembling under her fingertips. The cub had come back. And something else had been out there.