Beastly Little Boy

Chapter 13

Bernard spent the next few days in a trance-like state. He limped through the forest for hours on end, only pausing to eat, drink, or rest his throbbing shoulder. He didn't taste what he ate because the taste of the hunter's blood lingered on his tongue. Bernard had to force down every mouthful of food while praying that it wouldn't come back up moments later.

The cub made no effort to talk to Bernard. Only the whispers of days long gone that danced through his dreams reminded Bernard that he was not alone. The sensations he experienced as he slept were simultaneously familiar and alien: the hair-raising howl of a wolf, the tickle of newly grown grass, and the strangely comforting darkness of a winter den occupied by three bears came to Bernard like half-forgotten memories.

As Bernard struggled to bury the memories that tormented him during the day, he became lost in his hazy recollections of his dreams. The line between what happened while he was awake and what he experienced while he was asleep became increasingly blurred. Had he heard the scuff of someone's boots coming from the underbrush? How many times had he visited that river? Was that distant car horn something he had heard or was the cub toying with him?

At least the hunter's murder had stayed out of his dreams.

Bernard spent more than enough time imagining how he had killed the hunter during the day. Each birdcall sounded like a scream for help. Pebbles shifting beneath his paws reminded him of the man's struggle to return to his feet and run.

How long had it taken for the man to succumb to his injuries? Had he begged for his life or cursed his attacker? Bernard would never know. He was only certain of life marching on, ignorant of or not caring about the death of the man.

The state of the vegetation around him worsened Bernard's mood. Many of the trees around him sported long gashes, some of which were filled with dried sap. Sniffing the battle-scarred trunks, Bernard picked up the scent of another grizzly.

The last time he had smelled another bear, the scent had been so strong that his nose had burned for hours afterward. This time, he barely noticed the smell. A cloying foulness hung in the air, nearly smothering the stench of the other bear.

The local wildlife didn't seem too concerned about the resident predator. Birds had built their nests in the claw-marked trees. A fox slunk after a rodent in the undergrowth. The chase ended with a squeak cut short as Bernard investigated the area.

Finding food wouldn't be a problem here judging from all the animals running around. They had to eat too after all. The distant sound of rushing water meant that the animals had plenty to drink. Chances were that the marks on the trees had been made quite some time ago considering how many creatures were comfortable living near them.

If another bear used to live here, it could support one again. The only alternative Bernard could think of would be to return to the area near the cave he had hibernated in, but he had no intention of finding out if the hunter had brought friends with him.

With no signs of humans near here, Bernard could at least stop worrying about other hunters. The last thing he wanted was to have more human blood on his paws.

As he continued to explore, Bernard noticed more signs of another grizzly. A trail of flattened foliage wound around the pines. The trees that had been scratched looked perfectly healthy in comparison to their younger, shorter brethren. Some of the trees had lost entire branches to the bear, leaving splintered ends behind. The thinnest saplings had snapped, unable to withstand the force of the bear's paws. They were permanently bent and broken, never to grow as tall as their elders.

Bernard glanced at his paws. He was still growing, yet he had already killed a man. What other acts of destruction would he be capable of when he was older?