Awakening

The morning light began to flood the silent cave. At first, it was a faint, golden light that peaked into the small, low opening. Gradually, it turned brighter so that the limestone wall shimmered slightly in its brilliance. She blinked several times, unsure if she intended on greeting the outside world just yet.

She rolled to one side, then onto her back. The scratches on the rock wall would have spelled danger to some, who would no doubt have considered abandoning the cave upon discovery of the claw marks. But for her, these emblems of unwanted visitors provoked only a feeling of comfortable familiarity. 

The air was crisp from the cold of evening. But the wet smell of winter had left the air and a faint whiff of newly grown pollen helped her make up her mind. She yawned, rolled onto a crawling position and moved toward the exit. When she reached the mouth of the cave, the sight of the outside world wiped all the sleep away from her eyes.

The recently fallen snow was still accumulated in spots and under the shade of evergreen trees but where the sunrays reached without impediment, the melt presented the welcome images of new growth: young grass, softly spurting through the moist soil, beckoning the skinny antelopes. The animals had gone through a gruelling winter, had nearly starved, and many of their weakest had fallen to nearby four legged predators but Spring, with its promise of new life, caused them to forget their wintery troubles and prance their way to new green food.

Birds, too, were just arriving from their winter travels, as if they had sensed that this was the first day of Spring. And small rodents peaked their heads out from burrows in expectation that food will now be bountiful. 

Seeing the many creatures placate their Winter hunger, even bees who greeted newly bloomed flowers, reminded her at once of her growling stomach. The deep ache could no longer be ignored, but neither could her thirst. She had felt lazy back in the dark cave, but now tge sunlight caused her mouth to feel dry so she headed to the familiar river, where many a time a salmon had been caught right out of the water by her skilled reflexes. With some luck, there would be a drink and a meal all in one go and from the same place. However, once she approached and waded into the river bank, a grunt of dissatisfaction escaped from her.

The river held little resemblance to the one she had last drank from. The water was of a different colour, and there seemed to be no fish in it except the carcass of one, flowing past and getting caught against a fallen tree. A fowl scent rose to her nostrils. She looked around. No animals were drinking from it, either. In fact, now that she noticed it, far less animals were in the vicinity than usual. The brave wolves were nowhere to be seen and the great bison had uncharacteristically moved away.

She squinted, looking toward the direction of the sun. It was also the direction that the river water flowed from, bringing the strange colour and smell, and decided to investigate, after a distasteful drink. She moved upstream, with the unshakeable suspicion that there would be food in that direction.

As she moved, she noticed there was less and less snow on the ground. The earth was packed harder, as though a great number of animals had walked this way. There were also less trees, less flowers, less grass and even less birds. No wonder all animals except the fox could be spotted moving this way. For there was a scent of food, but also of something else, something unknown. 

She cautiously wobbled further, remembering again her ravishing hunger. Some vestiges of something edible lay on the ground. It was wrapped in an inedible substance but a few bits could be extracted and did not taste bad, albeit the food was strange to say the least. There was a large container with some more food bits, which she tipped and inspected before munching on all she could. The landscape now was completely unrecognizable though she had been here before. None of the trees were here. Where could they have gone? And how would the smaller creatures make a home? And the ground felt different, less soft and moist. The sounds of life were completely silent, except for far away voices. No insect noises. No bird songs. No fish splashing or mating calls.

She raised her head to look around. Then her eye caught movement. A man, the first one she had ever encountered, looked straight at her. She studied him, as a curiosity. He was still and offered no apparent threat. There was nothing to eat around here so she must head back downstream. Perhaps further down, some of the fish still live, and the water tasted better. Perhaps the trees would have some fruit. Downstream was a place of life whilst here, was a place of no life. But she would not make it downstream. A noise. Sharp pain. The clouds moved. The sky shifted sideways and the world, turned dark. 

The man stood with a satisfied grin, over the bear’s body. This was an unexpected prize. He would hang her head over his mantle besides the other prizes collected during the Winter, since the construction began. He also planned for and a rug that would be made of her skin. He bent down to take the great paws into his hand and noted the impressive claws, which appeared larger now, as the hibernation had caused her to loose significant weight. He threw his cigarette bud along with his empty pack and the contents of his pocket out into the river, where much of his rubbish was dumped. He never saw his trash flowing downstream along with everything else it carried. It was important to mark the occasion with a photograph. After all, he had just slain a beast.