Instead of turning on me, the bear took a step back and sat down on its haunches. I remained still, heart pounding, but the bear seemed to sense my nervousness and settled into an almost calming posture. Its massive head tilted slightly to one side, as if contemplating what had just transpired.
For a moment, I thought I imagined it, but then it happened again—a slow, deliberate nod, like a silent thank you. That was unexpected and left me awestruck. The notion that a creature known for its wild ferocity could express gratitude was something I had never considered. It was as if the bear acknowledged our shared moment of vulnerability and trust.
As the bear continued to watch me, an odd peace settled over the scene. The highway noise faded into the background, and the forest seemed to whisper in anticipation. With a last glance, the bear rose to its feet and ambled towards the trees, its movements languid and unhurried. I stood there, watching as it disappeared into the thick underbrush, leaving only the torn net as a reminder of our encounter.
