The Bear That Dug And The Fish That Cried

Gather round, children, and I will tell you a tale. It is not the tale of the Lion's Garden, or the Flower and the Diamond. It is not the tale of the Butterfly that Played. This is the tale of the Bear that Dug and the Fish that Cried.

Now attend all over again and listen!

Once in the long ago, a white bear lived in a forest. She was the strongest animal in all the land. She fought in the hills, and she fought in the valleys; she stripped the trees of their bark and cracked stones with her strength. The other forest creatures feared her, and called her all sorts of rude names like monster and ogre. They did it so often, everyone forgot the name she had before—even the bear herself. But really, Ogre was just a white bear who liked berries and fighting and testing her strength just a little more than other animals.

Ogre wasn't a pretty bear, even by bear standards. Terrible scars criss-crossed her fierce bear paws. Another large one went all the way across her fierce bear snout. She had a fierce bear face, and fierce bear eyes that looked like she would eat you up at any moment. Ogre preferred berries and fish and other things like that, but it was hard to explain this to any beast when they all ran in terror at the sight of her. So she wandered through the forest on her own, fighting all who would challenge her and minding her business otherwise.

She was very lonely.

One day, Ogre wandered down to the river for a drink. In the water she saw a strange fish. It was blue from head to tail, with a splash of brown over its back. The fish had the most merry eyes, and a brilliant smile—at least it would, if a fish could smile. It swam right up to the bear and waved a fin.

"Hello!" said the fish.

"Greetings," said the bear.

"My name is Blue. What's yours?"

Ogre stared at Blue. The fish was clearly new to the forest. Most others were scared of her (for good reason, because she liked eating them). "They call me Ogre," she replied, sitting down on her bear bottom. "Perhaps because I am so large and frightening."

"That's silly, and they're silly," Blue exclaimed, blowing bubbles derisively. "You're not a monster. You're a bear! What did they call you when you were born?"

"I cannot remember," Ogre replied. "It has been a long, long time since anyone hailed me by such a name."

"I'm sorry, Ogre," said Blue. "But I'd still like to be your friend."

"Fish do not befriend bears. How do you know I will not catch you and eat you all up?" she growled, showing her fierce bear teeth and her fierce bear claws. Blue just laughed, swimming in circles round Ogre's large front paws.

"Because you'd have to catch me, and nobody's ever managed to catch me—and because I know that's berry juice on your teeth, not blood."

From that day on, Ogre and Blue became fast friends. Both would meet by the riverbank to talk and share stories. Ogre spoke of the forest: of the silent, noble trees that whispered in the wind, of the leaping hare and the creeping fox, of the taste of ripe berries and what bark felt like underneath your claws. Blue spun tales of the water: of the blessed hush of the world below, of the stout crayfish and the shy elver, of speeding against the current, feeling it rush through your gills and over your fins. But all the two had were stories, never shared experiences. Bears have no fins, and fish have no claws. Some things, the world will not permit.

Despite knowing this, Ogre was troubled. She dearly wanted to enter Blue's world, or at least share hers with the kind little fish. Blue was one of the only friends she had, and the bear had grown to care for her deeply over the months.