comfortable, fatty, torpid stupor, but this year had been different. Food had been scarce, and she hadn’t managed to eat enough to acquire the necessary layer of insulating body fat. And so the cold winter wind had sapped away at her body heat, and when the snow began to fall and her stomach began to rumble, Redback sensed that her life was in danger and emerged prematurely from her winter hideaway. So far she had managed to scavenge just about enough nutrients to survive by gnawing at roots and other such meager offerings, but the miserable forage left her in a bewildered, disturbed state close to anger. Why should she—whose rightful territory this was, who was supposed to be stronger and prouder than every other creature in the mountain—be reduced to such misery?
On top of that, Redback had given birth to a cub the year before last.
Like her, the male cub had missed his opportunity to hibernate. Suffering extreme hunger, he followed his mother in short, weak strides. Whenever she looked at him, her maternal instincts heightened—in terms of human emotions, she wanted him to somehow survive. But the winter wouldn’t end, and food wasn’t to be found, and the mother and cub weakened further with each passing day. When they searched for it, they could find fir trees with inner bark to scavenge and paltry remnants of decaying plants buried beneath the snow, but none of this would fill their stomachs. Such was their existence, when one day, her cub became too emaciated to walk steadily, and her normally sound animal judgment went awry.
There were two places where the Two-Legs seemed to congregate. One of those was where Redback had tried to enter and received the awful wound from those strange fire-breathing sticks. But she had not yet tried the other one, so that was where she was heading. It wasn’t a risk she would have taken under normal circumstances, but it was clear that there just wasn’t enough food anymore, and besides, the fact that all of this should have been her territory was starting to gnaw deep. She drew on her remaining reserves of strength and raised her hackles. Night crows resting on a nearby tree branch flew away, sensing the disturbance in the air caused by Redback’s new sense of resolve. Redback was a female and slightly past her prime, but she had an unusually large head for her kind, and her build was exceptionally muscular, and her fangs and claws were all in good order. Redback had, after all, only ever lost one fight in her life, and that was to the Two-Legs with their strange spitting sticks. Redback wasn’t exactly calm at the prospect of having to face those things again, but her four legs carried her forward nonetheless. Redback—that is to say, a bear—is able to move through mountain terrain at speeds that are quite remarkable considering its short, stubby legs. So it wasn’t long before Redback arrived at that other place where the Two-Legs lived.
This place seemed quiet. Redback could remember that sharp smell those hateful sticks gave off when they had hurt her back leg. Well, that smell was nowhere to be found now. Still, Redback was taking no chances. She moved stealthily through the night, using the trees for cover, scouting out the whole area. Eventually she saw some of the Two-Legs. There were four of them with sticks in their hands, standing still in front of two of those strange dens that the Two-Legs made. There were ears of corn hanging from the walls of the dens. Redback sniffed the air once more, carefully, to check again if she could detect that sharp smell of those pain-sticks, and when she confirmed she couldn’t, she started advancing, slowly, toward the Two-Legs.
Redback moved boldly now. After all, there was nothing underhanded about what she was doing, not from her point of view. She was just taking back what was rightfully hers. This wasn’t an invasion—she was just claiming bounty that had been harvested from her territory. Unlike smaller, weaker
On top of that, Redback had given birth to a cub the year before last.
Like her, the male cub had missed his opportunity to hibernate. Suffering extreme hunger, he followed his mother in short, weak strides. Whenever she looked at him, her maternal instincts heightened—in terms of human emotions, she wanted him to somehow survive. But the winter wouldn’t end, and food wasn’t to be found, and the mother and cub weakened further with each passing day. When they searched for it, they could find fir trees with inner bark to scavenge and paltry remnants of decaying plants buried beneath the snow, but none of this would fill their stomachs. Such was their existence, when one day, her cub became too emaciated to walk steadily, and her normally sound animal judgment went awry.
There were two places where the Two-Legs seemed to congregate. One of those was where Redback had tried to enter and received the awful wound from those strange fire-breathing sticks. But she had not yet tried the other one, so that was where she was heading. It wasn’t a risk she would have taken under normal circumstances, but it was clear that there just wasn’t enough food anymore, and besides, the fact that all of this should have been her territory was starting to gnaw deep. She drew on her remaining reserves of strength and raised her hackles. Night crows resting on a nearby tree branch flew away, sensing the disturbance in the air caused by Redback’s new sense of resolve. Redback was a female and slightly past her prime, but she had an unusually large head for her kind, and her build was exceptionally muscular, and her fangs and claws were all in good order. Redback had, after all, only ever lost one fight in her life, and that was to the Two-Legs with their strange spitting sticks. Redback wasn’t exactly calm at the prospect of having to face those things again, but her four legs carried her forward nonetheless. Redback—that is to say, a bear—is able to move through mountain terrain at speeds that are quite remarkable considering its short, stubby legs. So it wasn’t long before Redback arrived at that other place where the Two-Legs lived.
This place seemed quiet. Redback could remember that sharp smell those hateful sticks gave off when they had hurt her back leg. Well, that smell was nowhere to be found now. Still, Redback was taking no chances. She moved stealthily through the night, using the trees for cover, scouting out the whole area. Eventually she saw some of the Two-Legs. There were four of them with sticks in their hands, standing still in front of two of those strange dens that the Two-Legs made. There were ears of corn hanging from the walls of the dens. Redback sniffed the air once more, carefully, to check again if she could detect that sharp smell of those pain-sticks, and when she confirmed she couldn’t, she started advancing, slowly, toward the Two-Legs.
Redback moved boldly now. After all, there was nothing underhanded about what she was doing, not from her point of view. She was just taking back what was rightfully hers. This wasn’t an invasion—she was just claiming bounty that had been harvested from her territory. Unlike smaller, weaker
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