[PRP] Bear Down

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Of all the animals Real Big Fish had ever met, none of them reminded her more of herself when she was fishing than the bear. Eagles were the heart and soul of the Totoma, but eagles fished from above. What Fish preferred to do was stand in the rapids and nab salmon and trout and other such fish on the run. Catching them on a mighty leap was simply delightful, and took more skill than you might imagine. They were strong, powerful animals, and catching one with your teeth could knock you back. And they fought! But fishing like a bear… it truly connected you with the water.

And bears had power.

There were some Totoma who didn’t even want to name them, thinking that doing so would call them forth. They called them things like “brown one,” or “honey-eater,” or “fish-clawer.” Names that spoke to their power and ferocity. The bears in the swamp were not the grizzled monsters of the mountains, but they had a power to them as well. She liked to dream about them. Her own bear, Salmon-Catcher, had come to her after such a dream. The little creature was a delight, but her sweet nature did nothing to hide her sharp, thick claws and her sharp, thick teeth.

She dreamed of bears when she had her children.

She dreamed of bears when she blessed others’ children.

It was said that bears were good mothers, that they were fiercely protective of their children. She’d never been that fierce, because she’d taught her children how to protect themselves.

It wasn’t her children she dreamed of tonight- at least not the ones she knew.

In her dream, she found herself walking on clawed paws, growling and chuffing and popping her jaw in warning. She saw the world through a bear’s eyes, enjoying the feel of thick shaggy fur and the strange nakedness of being armorless. Was this what it felt like to be other kin? Zikwa, Kimeti, Acha, Kiokote? Were they always kept warned by the wind on their back, vulnerable to something that might decide to pounce? It was a strange feeling, made even stranger by the knowledge that something she loved was in danger.

The cubs she dreamed of didn’t look like her children. But they were hers, that much she knew. Somebody had given them to her, and she had to defend them. They somersaulted and gambolled about at her heels, careless in the way all children are. She longed to join them, but knew that she mustn’t. She was their caretaker. Was she their mother? She wasn’t sure. But she’d fight for them like she was. And she knew that soon, soon she would need to. Something was stalking them from across the river, and as she and her cubs moved along it, the shadowy presence did, too.

There was no running from it. It would keep pace with them until she confronted it. Soon enough, it was time. The creature she saw was a Totoma, but… misshapen, somehow. Like a reflection in the water, only standing in front of her, snorting and pawing at the ground. She could see that it meant her cubs harm, but what could she do? She was only a miniature bear, small and… not harmless. Perhaps she could be thought of that way, but she wasn’t harmless. She chased the cubs up a tree, where they’d be safe, and she bellowed at the Totoma. It bellowed back, its cry deeper and louder than hers. She stood in the river on her hind legs, waiting for the charge. The Totoma entered the water, and its eyes were just like hers. It slashed with its hooves, as she slashed with her claws. They bounced bluntly off armor, and she knew she’d have to get underneath it. She knew the Totoma’s weak spots. There were five on every Totoma. Get at the soft underbelly, the only bit not protected by armor. If you can do that, if you can slash through the thick fur down there, you can take it down. Or, you can go for the ankles. Lame the mon-

She supposed it was a monster, from a smaller creature’s point of view. Lame it, and you can get away. Other creatures, like wolves that hunted in packs, could perhaps get at the flanks and bring it down that way, but a lone mother bear only had the options from below. So she did, letting the beast step over her as she tore at its belly. She wasn’t going to win this fight- she might not even survive it- but the Totoma wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. It bleated and bellowed as she growled and snarled, and the noises they made were eventually indistinguishable.

At some point, she realized that the misshapen thing was her own reflection as a kin, and she understood what the dream was telling her. It was nature saying not to get cocky- that even small things could be deadly, if provoked, and that the swamp was just as fierce as the mountains in its own way. She could feel the bones in her legs breaking as the Totoma trampled her, and with a last desperate gasp, she reached up and sank her jaws into its neck, wrapping her paws around the armor, claws scrabbling for purchase. This lunge knocked them both off balance, and the two bit into each other, refusing to let go as they were swept downstream. Neither could free themselves of the other, and the roaring only got louder as a third voice joined in.

Of course it was a waterfall. Of course it was. With a final gasp, Fish-Bear pulled Fish-Totoma’s head in close. Neither of them was getting away from this, and as their bodies disappeared into the mist, her vision swarmed with the faces of the cubs. She’d abandoned them, but she’d also saved them. With a pang of guilt, she realized that although they wouldn’t need her, they’d feel her loss. She’d taken something from them, and- well, that was nature, wasn’t it. Even when you do the right thing, there are negative consequences sometimes. Nature didn’t care about what you deserved, it only cared about the balance of things. A mother dies defending her children. A hunter dies, dragged down by its quarry. These things weren’t right or wrong in nature’s eyes.

When she awoke, she understood just a bit better the true role of the predatory animals in the Swamp. The mountains’ dangers were perhaps more obvious, but the Swamp’s were just as ferocious.
(WC: 1101)