She stands there for a second, watching the bear go. The morning light has truly arrived, and she can see the bear clearly, smaller and smaller and then hidden by trees.<br />She starts to tremble. She staggers. Falls off the log, hitting the ground hard. The panic-breath is back. Her eyes well up, and for a second she can’t see anything, just her own tears. And she can’t breathe. And she’s shaking all over, jerky and painful, like Rachel was when she got too cold.<br />“Hallie!” She hears her own name as if from a distance, through the roar of blood in her head. “Hallie, come here. Hallie!”<br />It’s Jonah’s voice.<br />There’s something else: a low, keening, gasping sound.<br />“Hallie! I can’t get over to you. You have to come to me.”<br />It takes her a second to realize what he’s saying. And to realize that the keening, the gasping, is her. She blinks enough to see Jonah reaching out for her.<br />She pulls herself in that direction. Her arms feel like newborn faun legs, spindly and weak. She has no strength left. The bear took it.<br />Jonah’s arms go around her. He pulls her to his chest.<br />“Hey,” he says. “Hey, it’s okay. You did it. It’s gone. It’s okay.”<br />He rocks her like a baby, holds her like she held him last night. There’s no self-consciousness left. Just arms holding and voice soothing and hearts beating, and the hysteria passes and she drops off to sleep.