He crouched low, the wind carrying muffled voices to his ears. He recognized the snap of rifles, the clink of metal traps. This was no friendly gathering. His throat constricted. The bear advanced, letting out a low growl that mirrored his sense of dread.
Dark canvas tents dotted the snow like ominous shadows, each lit by a single lantern that cast dancing shapes across the ice. Wooden crates and metal barrels formed loose barricades around fire pits, which sputtered with dying embers. Every gust of wind sent sparks flaring, momentarily brightening the gloom.