Each footstep produced a hollow crunch, amplified by the utter stillness around him. Nolan half expected the bear to whirl and attack, but it pressed on, only pausing to glance back with that same unsettling look. Every glance sent a fresh jolt of terror through him.
He found himself whispering half-formed apologies to the wind, as though begging the Arctic for forgiveness. Every shift of the bear’s muscles, every flick of its ears, made him tense for an assault. Still, the animal did not lunge—did not even bare its teeth.