Out of the Woods

Prologue

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The sun shone through the trees as Ursa navigates the terrain, which she has memorised and marked the years she has resided here. She tilts her head to the right, taking notice as a small flock of blue birds flees her presence, even though they are not typically her chosen prey. No, she would much prefer the ease of catching salmon as they migrate upstream, or the berries that grew plentifully this time of year.

She huffed, shaking her large head before continuing on. Ursa felt guilt in thinking of ease or anything that brought her joy, not after the loss of her first cub still fresh. The next full moon had not even risen since the loss, and the hurt in her spirit was still fresh. The cub had barely left the den, and Ursa felt that she had failed entirely in her purpose. Could she bring herself to mate again so soon? No, she cannot trust that she will not fail again. Perhaps she was not ready to bare a cub, another winter may do to prepare her. Hibernation does offer a surfeit amount of time to think.

Ursa is pulled from her mind by a strange sound, one unfamiliar to her. What could make such a sound in the slice of forest she has inhabited for three winters? Curious, yet cautious, Ursa ventures towards the sound. A rustle of leaves comes from the same direction, could she have misheard? No, she has wonderful hearing. Another strange noise, similar to her cub's grunts. How she missed him.

Peering through the brush, Ursa found something that put her on edge: a hairless beast, her mother would call them. She has seen them before, but the stories she was told as a cub deterred her from venturing closer. The beast before her, though, was much smaller. It stood on two legs like the others, but was not even half as tall, and the bit of hair that it did possess was far longer than any she'd seen before. Perhaps it was a cub? If that were so, then where was its mother?

Ursa allowed her eyes to search the area around the cub, only to find no sign of another of the beasts. When her gaze found the cub again she was met with shimmering eyes, eyes that resembled the full moon, reflecting the shock Ursa felt within her very spirit. She had let the beast see her. She had never let them see her before.

It smiled, reached out for Ursa, and took a step toward her. She growled, warning the beast not to approach. She had witnessed them kill creatures with far more ease than she could, and that made this beast a threat. Even if it was much smaller than the others. It took a second step. Then, as the hairless creature made for a third, it wobbled before toppling over, barely catching itself before eating dirt.

The shock of the mighty beast's fall silences Ursa. Then, the beast looks up at her with those moon-like eyes, but they shimmer with something more than shock. They shimmer with tears, tears that make Ursa feel the need to comfort the cub.

No, she tells herself. No, the beast is dangerous. Kill it or flee.

But Ursa cannot bring herself to tear her eyes from the creature before her. In fact, when it reaches out for her, she takes a step forward. Then another, and another. Before she could even comprehend the danger of the situation, she was directly in front of the creature, close enough that only one more step would allow its small, hairless paws to touch her fur.

Hesitantly, Ursa lowers her head toward the beast's outstretched paw, sniffing. It slips forward, enough to touch Ursa's muzzle. The contact shocked her, enough that she nearly missed the strange thought in her mind, but only nearly.

Kitty?

No, that was most certainly not her own. Was she losing herself? Did this strange creature have magic that ripped her ability to think from her very soul? Was that how the beasts hunted so well?

Not kitty?

Now she focused on the creature before her, studying its face. It held an expression of curiosity, one that made her more conscious of the pain in her spirit. It reminded her far too much of the cub she'd lost. Then, if the beast cub was only curious, what was this strange magic?

Talk, she thought. No, she did not think it. These thoughts were not her own.

Perhaps it was attempting to communicate with her? No, things cannot communicate through thoughts. She would communicate with her mother through grunts, growls, and her own body language. Ursa's mother would send her images to tell stories, but this was different. These were thoughts, thoughts that blended with her own.

Your name?

Her name? Her name was Ursa, just as it was her mother's name, and her brother's name. She was Ursa, just as this cub was Beast.

No, I Silva.

The beast was communicating with her! How strange. Could all beasts communicate this way? It did not seem likely, as she has heard them communicate. They communicated in long strings of unintelligible noise, not through thoughts. They would have to be extremely unintelligent to choose such a method when hunting, as it scared off prey. Communicating through thoughts would provide an advantage of stealth, though she was thankful the beasts did not have another advantage.

I not a beast, the creature–Silva–projected.

You look like a beast, Ursa thought.

I look like mama.

The cub's insistence–Ursa has concluded the beast was most certainly a cub–convinced Ursa that a continued argument would likely prove futile.

Where is your mother, then, Silva?

The cub took a moment to look to her left, then to her right, and back again before finally meeting Ursa's deep brown eyes.

I don't know.

Silva's lower lip trembles, a movement Ursa fails to recognise yet feels a compulsion to end. In that instant she decides that, until the cub's mother returns, she will care for it. She has seen the beasts eat many of the things she does, so she assumes their diets must be akin to one another. Perhaps this cub is exactly what Ursa needs to mend the wound in her spirit from the loss of her own cub.

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~Raven