But the thought of loyal Bernie—alone and vulnerable—drove him forward. Grabbing a sturdy stick for comfort, he stepped cautiously into the forest. The familiar trail they had walked countless times now felt alien, the silence heavy, broken only by distant, frantic barks.
Jacob plunged deeper into the forest, guided by Bernie’s fading cries. He pushed through thorny shrubs and tangled thickets, branches snagging his jacket, scratching his arms. The forest was denser here than he’d ever dared to venture. Each step was careful, but his determination to find Bernie overrode his fear.
Suddenly, Bernie’s barking stopped. An eerie stillness settled, suffocating in its intensity, pierced only by the soft rustling of leaves beneath Jacob’s boots.
His heart thundered as the absence of Bernie’s voice clawed at his nerves. Quickening his pace, he followed faint paw prints pressed into the soft soil.
Reaching a small clearing, Jacob came to an abrupt halt. At its center stood Bernie, stiff and motionless, his gaze locked on something ahead. The dog’s tail hung low, his body alert yet silent. Jacob’s breath caught as he stepped closer, following Bernie’s unwavering line of sight.
And then he saw it—a bear. Massive and imposing, its dark fur rippled with each subtle shift, eyes fixed steadily on them. Jacob froze, mind racing. He’d read about bears—how dangerous and unpredictable—but nothing had prepared him for the raw fear clutching his chest.
Bernie remained rooted, tense but unmoving. Jacob wanted to grab him, to run, but his legs felt like lead.
The bear took a deliberate step forward, the earth seeming to tremble beneath its weight. Panic surged through Jacob as he instinctively pulled on Bernie’s leash, placing himself between the dog and the looming beast.