He stood then, raised one massive paw to the glass to give it a very deliberate tap with one sharp claw.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Incessant. Demanding. Unyielding.
“No!” I only had two hands, and I couldn’t decide whether to cover my ears or my eyes as I shouted, “I’m not letting you in! I’m not letting you in! I’m not?—”
I jerked awake in the loft bed, heart pounding, still wearing Zion’s shirt.
A dream.The bear at the window was just a dream. Not a nightmare… maybe.
Sunlight streamed through the loft window—way too bright for early morning.
And when I looked over the loft’s edge again, Zion was gone, along with the overnight bag.
I refused to investigate whether I felt disappointed or relieved about that, especially before coffee.
When I padded into the kitchenette area, I found a Post-it note next to the plastic electric kettle I used to pour over the coffee bags. It was written in neat, cursive handwriting:
Dearest Bell,
You were sleeping quite soundly, and I took the liberty of not disturbing you. As it’s the weekend, I’ll be at home all day should you require anything. Simply walk over and tap on my door.
Ever Your Second,
Zion
The dream bear flashed through my mind at the wordstap on my door.And my heart sped up again.Clack. Clack. Clack.
Just a dream, I reminded myself, then noticed an arrow at the bottom of the page. The universal sign to flip the note over.
P.S. Ravik left something for you on your deck and asks that you inform Boone or me if it’s not what you require.
Curious despite myself, I padded to the back door.
On top of the humming round of cedar I’d de-barked sat a MountainCraft wood-carving gouge.What in the…
It wasn’t just any tool. It was the exact curved blade I’d need to excavate out the bear’s features. I turned the cork handle over in my hands. High-quality, expensive, clearly researched.
How did he know?
For several moments, I stood there holding the gift, those complicated Ravik feelings swirling around in my chest.
Then I got to work.
The tool was perfect. It cut smooth and deep and felt right in my hand. In no time at all, the bear’s snout began to emerge from the wood in curved planes, becoming clearer with each pass.
“Hey there, sugar.”
I looked up, blinking. Boone stood there with a covered bowl in his beefy hands. Behind him, the sun hung low in the sky. Letting me know I’d lost another day to art thrall. I guess “no time at all” had actually been hours.
“We were worried you forgot to eat,” he said.
I absolutely forgot to eat, and the smell of the warm stew wafting through the aluminum reminded me to be ravenous.
And, oh, my God, there was a spoon balanced on top of the foil.
I practically snatched the bowl out of Boone’s hands with a “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
