We would play, rolling through pine needles and mud. Sometimes it got a little rough, but he knew when to stop, he never took my ‘yes’ for granted. I was shorter than him, shorter than most people, so he was always careful. Yet, he did not treat me like a little piece of porcelain, easily broken and shattered. He knew a girl like me wasn’t like that. He could toy with me, make me get dirty knees and rough fingertips. I knew I was more beautiful now than I had ever been, leaves and grass caught in my hair, grime under my nails, clothes ripped and muscles lean and strong.
I did like our den, hidden away, south facing. A sweet scent of pine and the river, where he would go daily and get us fish, or hunt through the woods and bring back rabbit or deer. He always enjoyed his meat too rare, it was something I never grew to like. I would keep our cave clean, most days I had to change our bed; a pile of warm grass, lamb’s wool and herbs scattered amongst our bedding to keep the bugs out. Sometimes I’d decorate the cave with flowers, finding places for them in chipped mugs and glass jars. The bear wasn’t too keen on those, if he’d see them he’d just shrug his shoulders and grunt. I think secretly he liked my touches.
Then it was night, darkness creeping into the forest a lot quicker than in the town. The trees ink black spikes standing against a backdrop of navy blue night sky. There were so many stars here, I asked the bear to teach me their names. He only taught me two, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.
“What about the rest?” I said.
“They’re just stars, what does it matter? They don’t do anything.”
“But some people say…”
“Some people say a lot of things, don’t think they’re right by any means.” he rolled onto his back, while I twisted my fingers in his hair.
“You’re stubborn.” I smiled.
He turned his head to look at me, “Well noted, my girl.”
I traced the curve of his ear, “I love you, my bear.”
He grunted and shut his eyes as though he would sleep, though his smile was honey sweet. I knew he would never say it. “Sleep girl.” he said.
“Goodnight, bear.”
He chuckled and buried his nose into my hair.
He got caught in the glen, an iron trap catching his leg and making him howl with pain. I heard him and dropped my basket; smears of red berries on my feet, where I stepped on the fallen fruit. I ran through the woods, my heart thumping painfully and my muscles burning. I crouched down when I saw them, the men with their guns and laughing smiles, the dogs barking and pouncing at my bear. One man walked forward, the low brim of his cap hiding his face,
“Where’s the girl?”
“I don’t know.”
I flinched when the man slammed his boot into my love’s face, the bones crunched underneath and my bear spat out blood.
“Where is she?” the man hissed.
“I don’t know.” growled my bear. He stared the man down, hands tightening into fists.
“Well,” the man smirked, “She won’t survive for long without you, will she?”
My bear didn’t look at him, “She’s a lot tougher than you think, dog.”
I did not feel very strong when his head whipped round at the force of the man’s punch, my poor bear’s lip was split, his nose broken and still he looked up at the man.
“We’ll go, the little fool can starve.”
I watched them leave. A crow cawed at the darkening sky and I felt the cold silence of the wood press down on my ears. I didn’t wait to hear my bear howl. I followed the twilight creeping along the paths in the forest. I bit my lip hard, till a dribble of blood ran down my chin. The first thing he taught me was to keep walking. I kept walking till I couldn’t hear or see or feel anything. The world was dead. So was my bear.
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