The first sound was a sharp splash. Then a low, rhythmic knocking. The man sat up in bed, unsure if he’d dreamed it. But when the noise didn’t stop, he threw on a jacket and stepped outside.
The forest was still dark. Just before dawn. But behind the cabin, near the slope, something was moving. Shapes. Dozens of them.
When his eyes adjusted, he realized what he was seeing: beavers. A group of them. Not near a river, but on his land.