“This happened a very long time ago,” Pops began. “I was maybe ten years old.”

Mel looked at her grandfather, whose face was lit up by the firelight. He had white hair, a matching mustache, and skin that was all crinkled, like an old map. It was hard to imagine that he’d once been a kid like her. But there was an old photo of him hanging on the wall in the cabin — little-boy Pops — with his buzz cut and freckles. He was proudly holding up a big trout he’d caught in the lake.

“I was walking through the woods,” Pops went on. “Not too far from here, maybe a half mile up the lake. I was heading back to the cabin, whistling some silly tune, swinging my lantern. Not a care in the world … until I heard a noise just ahead, a noise I’d never heard before.”

Pops leaned forward. “It sounded like this.”

He clacked his teeth together. Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack.

“Was it an alligator?” Kevin asked. He loved alligators. Most kids had teddy bears. Kevin slept with the stuffed alligator their aunt Cassie had given him.

“Shhh,” Mel said gently.

Pops dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I should have stopped or at least slowed down, or found a different route. But I just kept walking along like a big dummy. And suddenly, wham! Something whacked my calf. I never felt such pain in my life — not before or since.

“The animal ran off. I never got a good look at it. I hobbled over to a tree stump, shined my lantern onto my leg. I saw the strangest sight … dozens of long black needles sticking deep into the meat of my calf. And of course I realized what creature had attacked me.”

“What was it?” Kevin cried.

Pops raised his eyebrows at Mel. She’d heard this story a hundred times before.

“It was a porcupine,” Mel said.

“A porcupine?” Kevin repeated, frowning. He crossed his skinny arms over his T-shirt. “Pops! A porcupine is NOT a scary animal!”

“Who says?” Pops boomed. “All creatures fear the porcupine.”

Pops explained that porcupines had more than thirty thousand quills on their bodies. The spikes protected them from enemies — bigger animals that wanted to eat them. Each quill was like a small arrow. When a porcupine’s attacker tried to take a bite, it wound up stabbed in the snout. And when a porcupine got mad or felt threatened, watch out. With one whack of its tail, a porcupine could deliver dozens of quills deep into its enemy’s flesh.

That’s what happened to Pops.

“My mother had to use pliers to get the quills out,” Pops said, wincing. “Took her about three hours. I fainted once from the pain.”

Kevin huffed. “I hate that porcupine, Pops!”

“Oh no,” Pops said. “Don’t blame the porcupine. It was just protecting itself. It warned me. That click, clack, click, clack was it telling me, ‘I’m here! Please go away!’ But I was walking around like I owned the forest. I showed no respect.”

Showing respect in the wild. That was a big thing for Pops — and Mom, too. She was always reminding Mel that Glacier really belonged to the animals. “We’re just guests here,” she liked to say.

Both she and Pops worried that the park was getting too crowded. And some people didn’t understand how to act when they were hiking or camping. It used to drive Mom crazy when people littered on the trails. Mom’s temper could be fiery sometimes. Just like Mel’s.

“Excuse me!” she’d yell, handing the person their empty soda bottle or Milky Way wrapper. “I think you dropped something.”

“Tell another story, Pops,” Kevin pleaded. “Tell about a wolverine, or a wolf, or a tiger, or an alligator …”

Pops chuckled. “Enough stories for tonight,” he said. He stood up slowly. His stiff knees cracked. “Remember, Aunt Cassie’s coming tomorrow. Right after breakfast.”

“Yay!” Kevin said. Aunt Cassie was Mom’s best friend. She always joined them for a few days in Glacier. Last year, Mel would have been counting down the minutes until Aunt Cassie showed up in her little red Volkswagen. But the last thing Mel needed now was another reminder of Mom — another reason to cry.

Kevin slid off Mel’s lap and scampered toward the cabin.

“Race you, Pops!” he called.

“Put out the fire, would you, Mel?” Pops asked. Then he turned and started limping after Kevin. “I’m coming for you! And I’m bringing my porcupine with me!”

Kevin shrieked happily. They disappeared into the darkness. A minute later Mel heard the creak and slam of the porch door.

Mel doused the fire with water from the lake and used a shovel to pile sand on the smoldering logs. Even a small ember could drift into the woods and start a fire. There were already more than ten wildfires burning in the northern parts of the park.

So far, firefighters had kept them from spreading. But one windy night could change that. Especially in August, when the weather was hot and dry.

Mel threw on extra sand, just to be sure.

When the fire was good and out, Mel stood for a few minutes, leaning on the shovel. She stared up at the stars. She could see a million more here than back home in Milwaukee.

And that’s when she noticed something strange … the total silence. The owls had stopped hooting. The night bugs weren’t buzzing. The whole forest seemed to be holding its breath.

And then Mel heard a twig snap. Leaves rustling. Deep, wheezing breaths.

The hairs on Mel’s arms stood straight up.

She wasn’t alone. Something was here.

Something big.