The cub squeaked, pressed its nose against my boot, while the mother stood nearby, never taking her eyes off me. I knelt and ran my hand gently over the warm, soft back — the animal allowed it. It felt as if she was saying: “Look, this is who you saved me for.”

A minute later, the bear picked up her cub and melted into the shadow of the fir trees. I called the forestry service, reported the poacher’s trap, and only then drove on — with lightness in my chest and the sense that the forest itself had nodded to me in gratitude.