He came back. This time he brought his son.

Authentic vertical 9:16 smartphone video, filmed from the driver's seat of a parked car at dusk, phone held steady against the dashboard and pointed straight out through the windshield. Same road, same light and the same huge grizzly bear as the reference image: a two-lane road through tall dark pine trees, deep blue evening sky, the car's low headlights softly lighting the road. One single continuous take for the full 15 seconds: no cuts, no zooms, the camera never moves except tiny natural hand tremor. Real amateur phone-camera look with low-light grain. The bottom 15% of the frame is the dark dashboard, the top edge of the hood and the black windshield wiper resting across the bottom of the glass. No on-screen text.

0-2s: the huge grizzly from the reference is already walking down the middle of the road straight toward the car, close and getting closer.
2-4s: it reaches the car, rises up, puts both front paws on the hood and leans its broad face close to the windshield, staring into the camera. The car rocks slightly.
4-6s: a small grizzly cub scrambles up onto the hood from below the frame, right next to the big bear's paws.
6-9s: the cub stands up on its back legs beside its father, puts its two small front paws on the glass exactly the way he does, and presses its little nose against the windshield in the center of the frame. Both bears stare into the camera side by side. The big bear slowly tilts his head; the cub tilts its head the same way a second later.
9-12s: the big bear drops down and walks off the road to the right. The cub stays, looks down, grabs the windshield wiper in its mouth and tugs until the wiper blade snaps off the arm.
12-15s: the cub hops down off the hood and trots after its father down the road with the wiper blade held proudly in its mouth, glancing back at the camera once.

Realistic grizzly anatomy: one big adult and one small cub, the cub about a quarter of the adult's size and the same size the whole time. Mouths closed except when the cub bites the wiper. No tongue, no breath fog. Soft even light on the fur, no glare. The windshield glass stays solid and intact.

Sound: the engine idling low, heavy paws thudding on the hood, the car creaking as it rocks, soft huffing sniffs close to the glass, tiny claws tapping the windshield, a plastic snap when the wiper comes off. From the passenger seat, off camera, a woman whispers "oh no, he's back" at 1s, whispers "he brought his kid" at 5s, and laughs in disbelief when the wiper snaps. No music, no other voices.