Dawn Rising

M I S C H I E F ☽

Mischief bounded ahead of Alma and Mauna, floundering around in the heavy drifts of snow. The soft white blanket that now covered all the land exploded like powder around her paws, making Mischief bark in delight.

It was noon, and the sun's rays shone down on the now-peaceful valley. Last night's snow storm had left the landscape with an eerie quiet, the air seeming to hang there, waiting for something to happen. The occasional small snowflakes drifted down to earth, which Mischief chased with great delight. "Mama, Mauna," she called, turning to wait for them to catch up. "Let's play a game!"

"When we eat," Alma promised, cuffing Mischief affectionately. She glanced around and flared her nostrils at her surroundings, studying the air for smells. Her shoulders drooped when she didn't find any, and she cast a swift glance at Mauna. Mischief saw it, and tilted her head at the look of embarrassment and shame on Mother-bear's face. What was there to be embarrassed about, if there was no food?

"Alma," Mauna said, breaking the silence. "Raise your head and smell the air again."

Alma looked perplexed, but didn't contradict the old bear, instead raising her head to sniff once more. "I don't smell anything," she said. "There's only snow, snow, and more snow."

"That is what snow does," Mauna said. "But sniffing isn't the only way to find prey. Come." She led Alma to a rocky outcropping, where the snow was scattered like powder over the rocks. Mischief followed curiously, listening. "To find prey, you need to listen and be still." Mauna positioned herself so that she looked like another stone against the outcropping. A very furry one, Mischief thought, and chuffed to herself. Alma did as Mauna did, and looked like a darker stone next to Mauna. Mauna scooped a large paw in the snow and patted it all over Alma, who barked in surprise. "Snow will conceal your scent from prey," Mauna explained, as she patted snow on her own amber pelt. "Now, you need to listen. Listen for any sounds that might hint as to where prey is."

For long moments, nothing significant happened, and Mischief shifted uncomfortably, getting bored. She was also getting hungry, the fullness she had felt from the marmots last morning fading rapidly.

Just when Mischief was about to get up and go explore the snow drifts again, Mauna got up swiftly, and with a venomous growl, snapped the neck of a passing marmot. It was plump, and its fur had a reddish hue, intermingling with its delicious musky scent. Mischief's mouth watered and Alma's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "How- how did you do that?" she asked, prodding the marmot's now limp body. "Couldn't it see us?"

"Yes, it could," Mauna rumbled. "But it saw us only as two rocks in the snow- and the snow concealed our scent." She raised her head and beckoned Mischief over with a large paw. "Eat," she urged, nudging the marmot toward her.

Mischief bounded over, not protesting, and took a deep breath of the marmot. It smelled delicious- a mixture of all the elements of this frozen landscape, of warmth and lingering life. Mischief took a small bite out of it, then decided that this was one of the best foods she had ever had in her life. "Thank you!" she exclaimed to Mauna, through a mouthful of marmot.

Mauna nodded warmly, then swung her head to look back at Alma, who was looking perplexed. "Don't feel bad about not having caught it," Mauna said. "You're learning. And once you've learned, you will no longer feel guilty."

Alma recoiled, her dark eyes flashing in surprise and pelt bristling in alarm. Mischief paused from eating the marmot, watching the exchange. Is that how Mother-bear feels? She wondered. Guilty that she couldn't take care of us? Does she think... that Starry died... because of her? The thought made Mischief's stomach churn; it wasn't Mother-bear's fault that the mountains had taken Starry away, or that the mountains had made her lose her way to the summer lands. "No, Mama," she blurted. She floundered over to her Mother-bear and wrapped her small arms around her. She was surprised to feel Mother-bear's ribs through her fur, to feel every strain of her muscles. "Don't feel guilty. It's the mountain's fault. It's not yours. It isn't yours."