Inside was a tiny puppy, muddy and trembling, no bigger than his forearm. The little creature whimpered, barely clinging to warmth. Ryan blinked in disbelief. A bear had carried this fragile thing to him. Why? He slipped off his jacket and wrapped the puppy tightly, holding it against his chest. The small heartbeat against his ribs was faint but steady. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He looked toward the trees, hoping to see the bear again, but the forest had swallowed her whole.
The silence that followed felt different—peaceful, almost sacred. Ryan sat by the fire, staring at the spot where the bear had stood. It didn’t make sense. Bears didn’t behave like that. And yet, he knew what he’d witnessed. He rubbed the puppy’s fur, trying to warm it. The little body sighed and curled closer. Ryan’s chest tightened. Somehow, this tiny life had crossed paths with a grieving wild mother. He whispered a quiet “thank you” to the trees. Somewhere out there, he was sure she heard him.