Instinct Takes Hold

Hana’s fear flashed but never rooted. Years of volunteering at her father’s wildlife clinic had taught her to read animal tension like heart rhythms. The bear’s stance looked rigid, yet its eyes seemed pleading rather than predatory. In its jaws twitched a tiny, furred bundle. Instinct screamed that the creature needed help.

She whistled softly and backed toward an unused pediatric bay. The bear’s head tilted, following the gentle sound. Hana slid a gurney aside, killed the bright light, and opened space. When the animal lumbered in, she pulled the door shut and threw the bolt, her pulse hammering, yet her hands remarkably steady.