A statuesque Wolverine, standing there, gazed at Estelle with a pair of bewildered eyes.

Rising to her feet, Estelle gripped a knife in her hand, locking gaze with the Wolverine in the darkness. Her expression was serene, a silent pact that as long as the Wolverine didn’t provoke her, she wouldn’t harm it either.

Sensing no ill intent from Estelle, the Wolverine let out a grunt and settled itself onto the ground.

Estelle followed suit and sat down.

In the darkness, human and beast sat facing each other.

The Wolverine kept its eyes on Estelle, looking somewhat displeased, yet it didn’t attack.

Estelle felt something was amiss, her mind raced, and then it clicked. She pointed at the straw on the ground and asked, “Is this yours?”

After a pause, she added, “Do you understand me? If not, we can converse in another language.”

It seemed the Wolverine got the gist as it snorted through its nose in a gesture that felt like it was saying, “You finally get it.”

bears supposed to live in tree hollows? What’s with the straw bedding? And here she was, unwittingly

relinquish the spot to the Wolverine when she noticed it

into her bag and pulled out a slice of it, offering it

the ground, grinned with a hearty

make a deal,” Estelle proposed merrily. “I’ll give you

Wolverine nodded

relief,

she placed the tiramisu

but then joyfully crammed the rest

Estelle unwrapped a cream cake from her stash and offered it as

into the straw and

already asleep on the straw. It ambled to another corner of the watchtower, plopped down on the

her water bottle and the empty cake wrappers, tucking them into her bag. Then, she left another slice of cake by the

was still parked by the field. She tossed her bag in and

had driven thirty miles without sighting a gas station, she sensed

sputtered, running on fumes,

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