Dawn Rising

☾ A L M A

A twig cracked. Alma raised her head sharply, looking around at the desolate landscape, the only sign of life a small strip of half-dead fir trees. Mischief was still curled up beside her. As she slept, she was wracked with strong shivers, and Alma heard her mewl softly, like a newborn cub. It made her heart shatter more.

She had failed her cubs. Starry had died, and Mischief was only a few days away from death. Alma looked back down to gaze mournfully at Starry. Her brown pelt, streaked with blonde darts, shivered like brittle grass in the wind. Her eyes were half-closed, and the light inside them had faded.

Then she heard another sound: a soft rumbling sound, that of a bear greeting. She scrambled to her heavy paws and spun around. A she-bear was standing a little ways off, regarding Alma with a kind expression. She looked elderly, worn down by years of walking the earth. Her eyes were a dark, dark brown, with a pale copper glow in the center.

"Who are you?" Alma asked sharply. She didn't return the customary greeting to the she-bear; what if she was here to ambush her cub?

"My name is Mauna," the she-bear said. She took in Alma's defensive stance, and the two cubs lying behind her. "I'm not a danger to your cubs, don't worry."

Alma's defensive stance didn't falter as she felt Mischief stir behind her. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I'm a wanderer," Mauna said, and a melancholy look drifted into her eyes. "My need of survival isn't as great, because I'm old. Every year, I stay around in the mountains a bit longer before leaving for the summer lands. By now, usually most of the bears have arrived at the summer lands."

Alma understood Mauna's implications, and her defensive stance broke down. Mischief stood beside Alma, now fully awoken, and stared at this strange bear. Mischief's ribs jutted out of her pelt, and her fur was tufty and uneven. Although Alma knew she was standing strong in front of Alma, Alma knew Mischief was silently suffering. Because of me, she thought miserably. "I need help," she blurted, before she could think. "Please help me, or we'll die."

Mauna smiled softly. "That's why I came. I can lead you to the summer lands. I'll be there every step of the way." She paused, seeming to think about something. Then she said, "I know you barely know me, but trust me when I say that I am here to help."

"I trust you," Alma whispered. Her eyes became glassy as she gazed at the elderly bear that had offered her help to save two unknown bears. She was touched by the infinite kindness that this bear had, and so, so relieved to have someone to lean on.

But another part of her felt awful. She had always been the runt of the litter, the weaker, dumber one. Her siblings always taunted her about her lack of strength and intelligence. She remembered something her brother had said to her sister when she had toppled off a boulder. "Ha, she's such a failure! She won't live long, and Mother-bear will stop wasting all her attention on her." Alma's sister had glanced at Alma dismissively and said, "Good riddance." Alma's Mother-bear had nipped them both sharply and demanded they apologize, but those words had stuck to Alma for the rest of her life.

When the time had come, she left her Mother-bear and set off on her own. On her first year alone, she had had no success for cubs. No male came to her. Then, on her second year, she got her cubs- Starry and Mischief. And she had failed. Just like her brother had said, she wouldn't live long- or rather, her cubs wouldn't.

"Well then," Mauna said. Her eyes were soft with sympathy and shared sadness as she motioned with a slight nod of her head at Starry's still body underneath the overhang. "Are you ready to bury her?"

Alma shook her head. Not yet. Just one more night. One more night so that I can say goodbye.