Then she heard it—a faint sound ahead, barely audible. Something struggling.
She took a step forward, then another. Whatever waited beyond those trees—that was why she’d been led here.
Claire pushed through the final thicket and gasped.
A smaller bobcat was caught in a hunter’s snare, its back leg trapped in tight wire, body twisted in distress. The mother bobcat paced anxiously nearby, ears flattened, tail twitching nervously.
She had been led here for this.
Claire’s mind raced. She had no tools, no way to cut the wire. But she couldn’t leave it.
She glanced back, realizing she had no idea where the main trail was anymore. Time was running out.
The kitten let out a weak, pained cry. The mother paced restlessly, agitated but unwilling to leave.
Claire knew she had to act—and quickly.
She dropped to her knees beside the trapped animal, moving carefully to avoid sudden motions. The wire bit deep into its fur.
She reached out, but the kitten flinched.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, unsure if she was convincing the bobcat or herself.
She needed something to loosen the wire—anything.
Her fingers scraped the dirt, searching for a sharp rock.
The mother bobcat growled low, stepping closer. Claire’s heart hammered, but she held her ground.