Where Bears Go To Get Some Peace

Billy and Sam had come to the woods to hunt for mini-beasts.

Billy had brought a picnic. Sam had dressed sensibly in case the weather changed.

Billy searched the foliage with his magnifying glass. He had packed his field notebook and bug catcher.

Sam would count legs and inspect mandibles. Billy would make sketches.

Billy wanted to be an entomologist when he grew up. Sam wanted to be a fireman.

The Bear approached, he was about to relieve himself in his usual spot. The boys had set up camp in a place where A Bear Goes To Get Some Peace.

The Bear opened his jaws, a low growl would suffice. A more gory episode would follow, if necessary. It usually wasn’t.

The Bear stopped in his tracks, and thought: Surely the boys had heard of the saying: ‘Do bears shit in the woods?’

Was he right in wanting to scare the boys, who were clearly in the middle of Something Important?

Did he really want blood on his paws, if their Something Important was slightly more Important than his Something Important?

The Bear raised himself on his hind legs to get a better look.

The boy with the backpack was wearing camouflage of sorts. The one with the red hair wore a matching blood soaked pelt.

Where Bears Go To Get Some Peace

The Storymakers would be betting on the Bear to kill the boys instantly. Bear loosened his jagged grin and relaxed his paws, so he looked less ferocious, and more huggable. He cast his mind back to the fiasco with Goldilocks.

She’d been the intruder but They had made her out as the Victim. She was a Self Entitled Little Brat. Human children could be as dangerous to Bears as the Hunters.

If the Bear were to obey his natural instincts, more humans would follow, this time with dogs and weapons. They would trample over his family’s natural habitat and he would be forced to move on again.

The Bear lowered himself carefully and retreated behind the bushes, retracing his steps before the boys noticed him.

They were absorbed in the miniature world at their feet. If the Bear disappeared now, there would be no story for the humans to tell.

Sam grabbed Billy’s wrist and spoke: ‘Keep it steady Billy.’

A laser beam of sunlight pierced through the centre of the magnifying glass. Sam grinned. The Bear flinched.

The smell of smouldering forest hit the Bear’s nostrils. His Peaceful Place fell away before his eyes.

The Bear emerged from the bushes and made for the red haired boy first. He pictured his face on the front page of every Storybook in the land, only wider and with more teeth.

There was no smoke without fire.

The Bear knew his kind didn’t live in houses and eat porridge for breakfast, or sleep on comfort rated mattresses.

Bears shat in the woods. Bears defended their habitats with teeth sharpened and claws primed. They had blood on their mind.

There was no smoke without fire.