Reflections

The dark, yawning shadows stifled dwindling frost from grasping the depths of the bear’s den, where a new mother dozed. Still unconscious, Zika’s head lulled against the compact foliage while her whelp pressed eagerly into her stomach, milk dripping from his chin. Yet to be labeled by the Calling, or ‘named’ as some put it, the virtuous cub was oblivious to the stillborn body that lay just inches from his paws. Not all life would make it, but he had yet to learn that lesson. 

For the moment, he was a carefree baby, free from the vines that bound his mother to the earth, free from the fear that was inflicted upon her as she worked tirelessly to avoid the constant, growing settlements of the human race.

 Winter was the anchor, the amendment of wounds and struggle and the cleansing of Zika’s bustling autumn months. Today however, was different, the cub could sense it like a prickling in his paw pads, as though the Beyond was beckoning him and he had to oblige. The Light had changed for, where once it had barely made a mark through the dappled coverings of his shelter, it now streamed, illuminating his mother’s face so that he could see her silhouette clearly for the first time. Little did he know about his own kind, or the power that lay within Zika’s brawn, but he knew Mother, and that was enough. Mother-scent, the rich, wild smell of pine and wood, an aroma that would stay with him well into his aging years, if he made it that far. Mother-sound, her constant wheezing, the rise and fall of her flanks, the way her voice echoed through the crannies and crevices of their resting space. Mother-touch, the gentle, caressing rasp of a tongue over his soft skull. She meant everything to him and he, everything to her. It could have been love, or just familiarity, for The Wild do not put words to their emotion. 

The cub did not know how long he waited, maybe multiple alluring days, perhaps countless starlit nights, but eventually one colossal eye cracked open, fiery amber with an onyx pupil. She had been awakened with the assistance of her Calling and for the first time, regarded her son. His opening meeting with Zika opened like two leaves from their bud and the two touched noses eagerly, drinking in every detail. 

One cannot explain grief with complete integrity, for it is too sharp a feeling to describe, but when the mother bear spotted her smaller, fallen child, a great mourning overwhelmed her, encased in layers of doubt and dread.

Seconds passed, though they seemed like the span of an afternoon. The engrossing light appeared to dim momentarily, recognizing its offering. It could have been acceptance, or simply instinct, but they did not sit vigil long. After a great many nudging to ensure that the little bear was not sleeping, Zika led her remaining cub towards the den entrance, a concurrence befalling them. Still, filtering through a small hole in the roof, the sun’s tears wept upon the pale deceased, a timeless memorial. 

The tiny whelp followed Zika without question, proving his innocence. Tiny paws drummed the earth as they led him out, into the great, wide world. Her haunches blocked the view of the terrain, but the sounds that welcomed him redeemed this action. The chirping of sparrows and the bugling of far-away elk pulsated through the bear’s bones as grass brushed his numbed paws. Spring had arrived. 

Delicate, crimson poppies tickled his heels and he was completely enveloped by the blinding brightness that was everywhere all at once. It dazed him in the most marvelous way, filling him with absolute pleasure. 

The novice did not waste an instant and instead, tore off across the meadow, frolicking jubilantly in absolute triumph, all deathly darkness left behind. Insects exploded from the heather, rising towards the sky in fright yet he paid them no notice. An endless cerulean of azure extended across and past the horizon line, which rippled with wisps of dainty clouds. Zika groaned to signal that he should remain at her side, but he was simply too preoccupied to care. There was an entire world left to discover and he intended to do just that. 

Gone was the benevolence of a new mother and instead, a gruff, preventative protection overtook the sow, strengthened by fresh sorrow. Raging, she demanded that her cub retrace his steps. Guiltily, her son lowered his head and strode back in her direction, falling into step at her elbow. 

The pair scaled the mountain meadows for a short time, Zika searching for a valid meal, and her smaller counterpart taking in the scenery. Unlike a youngster, she knew that dawdling would result in hunger, and hunger never had a positive outcome. The breeze offered hope, for it vowed clover’s brush and the dandelions that ringed nearby.

After a bit, grand space opened up at the center of a cluster of hills, where new buds rose. In such a cheery atmosphere, all morning losses were temporarily forgotten and a bout of grazing began, led solely by the adult. So focused was she on consumption, that Zika forgot to ascertain that her new responsibility didn’t wander off. The cub took full advantage of this negligence, for he was a mischievous one if ever. Anything but starving from his endless milk supply back at the den-site, he skipped away, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked not far from where he now trod. 

Patches of white assisted him in play, which he was itching to do after months of slow growth in a confined space. It was melting, though still quite colder than anything he had experienced before. The little bear withdrew his claw after a tender experiment that involved placing his left forelimb fully within the snowdrift. It was so fun to run off on his own! Not the least bit discouraged from the ice’s bite, he pranced away, no longer intrigued with its novelty. 

Coming upon a sturdy incline, he began to pant, tiny tongue falling from his mouth as the sun radiated off his thick pelt. With the tireless energy one would expect from a little one, he regained enough vigor to crest the hill and gaze out over the wondrous land that expanded before him. A river snaked its way between rows of mountains, which dotted the terrain like huge giants. The waters rippled and reflected the shifting sky in shades of lilac and scarlet. Dawn, forever flaunting its vast opportunity. 

The young bear careened down the opposite side, mesmerized and barrelling in the direction of the view as though he could step through a portal into the perceived paradise. His guardian nowhere to be found, he rejoiced in the fact that the great expanse was all his, free to romp through and traverse at will. 

The grasses grew taller, concealing him in a maze of emerald and gold until scents crisscrossed and his path had been lost. Persevering, he ambled in an unknown direction, vaguely wishing that it would guide him towards the river. Insects buzzed in his ears, as though taunting him with their flight. Every once in a while, the bear would snap his head up in the hopes of snatching one from the air, yearning to pluck it as though it were a daisy from the ground. They, however, were much too swift and recoiled with the slightest distinct movement. Ceasing to try, he succumbed to their pestering and tried to ignore them. 

Once he had traveled well into the afternoon, the cub came upon the end of the prairie, where the long, graceful plants became optimistic studs. Here, only the occasional dandelion sprouted and a sandy bank stretched as far as the eye could see, the waters glinting and glistening in the weakening light. The clay felt strange beneath his paws and he bent to investigate, a sensation unlike any other pulsating through his limbs. It was as though the river was beckoning him to its edge, asking him to kneel and gaze into its cryptic abyss. The cub obeyed this request and soon began to make out a presence amidst the turmoil. 

The waves swirled and bounced, endeavoring to reach the end of their endless journey. Through the chaos, he spotted a fragile, shattered reflection that became clearer as he admired it. Rich, hazel eyes stared dolefully up at him, unlike his own lively spirit. Expecting mimicry as he swayed from side to side, the whelp found that the ghost stayed absolutely still and did not follow his example. Assessing further, he pulled back, checking to see if the visitor followed. She stayed seated, observing his uncertainty sedately. 

Occasionally, the river would be lulled to stillness as the breeze died down and the cub could glimpse the mirror in its fullest form, an echo of his lost sister, though he could not tell how he knew this.

 She was portrayed as a yearling, a warm grin playing on her lips with the wisdom of a much older bear, despite her age at passing. A wrinkled muzzle was the only subtle hint that gave away amusement at his antics, but a regret continued to linger beyond the motion. 

It was there that the Living discerned who she was, discovery flaring from iris to iris. A craving to touch noses with his sibling in acknowledgment of his own life prevailed over puzzlement of her arrival. They stayed that way, breathing together across dimensions until dusk started to fall over the tundra. A secrecy only known as the connection between kin unfolded from their intimacy and it was there that he realized that she had sacrificed her Life for his own. Whether or not she involuntarily knew of this gift, it had been given, and so the cub owed to her everything he had.

Thank you could only be expressed through their longing, so it was at the river they both remained. The stars sparkled overhead, illuminating his poised frame against a dramatic backdrop of fluttering leaves and arching mountains. Meticulously, reluctantly, she retreated from his touch and inhaled waveringly.

“For you, dear brother, I lend you my soul. Please begin my legacy.” 

Shock and concern struck the cub at once and he tilted his head, baffled. 

“Is your soul not your own?”  he wanted to know. “Who am I to take it from you?”

“Do not worry, I would trust you with even my most precious root, for our veins are like trees, always connected. This will help Mother, it will cure her anguish and restore her being. I could not ask for more.” Her voice was as benign as her eyes and a complete faith engulfed him all at once, spiraling through and throughout his body. He savored the feeling, closing his eyes and imagining that her tone sounded the same as the voice of wildflowers. The words that belonged only to the Beyond shattered upon the young-ling, weighing his shoulders with his first duty.

When at last the cub cracked them open, he gave a start of astonishment. She had evaporated like mist over the plains, gone as quickly as she had surfaced. In his sister’s place did not come loneliness, but instead, an insistence that he had accomplished what he had set out to do. Feebly, he retraced his steps, following his own scent back over the hill. This time, he did not bound or leap, but instead savored every quiet second, for he knew that the river he left behind deserved his respect for sheltering her soul in its translucent depths. Someday the siblings would meet again, he was certain, but for now, what the dead had taught him would remain within for the rest of his life. 

Don't forget how deeply you care for your Life, dear one. Never forget.