Excavation

Chapter 1

Again the bear awakened with his muzzle sunk in huckleberries. He snorted once and inhaled them. Growled deep within his throat and raised up. Stiffened and scented the air. Nothing. But something bothered him, just on the edge of his awareness. He could not smell it, or hear it. He lumbered off toward the trees, leaving even this vague awareness behind.

He recognized the kind of tree where he could get the acorns. It was important to get them now, before they fell; otherwise the deer would gobble them all up. He sniffed the air, then let his ears do the searching for him. Nothing. Propelled by his hind legs, he shinnied up the tree, circling the rough bark in a spiral. Then he stopped. Smelled the air. Nothing.

But something was wrong. He stared at the acorns for a long time but did not eat them. He needed to be full; the cold would come, the snow, and he needed to be full. Acorns and pine seeds and roots and carpenter ants, grasshoppers… He needed filling. He was empty, had nothing but night hollow inside, cold hollow, and needed to be filled. But somehow he knew these usual things would not fill him this year.

Something was different. He could not be sure if it was the things outside or the things inside him, but something had changed. He did not stay in this part of the woods. It had been a long moving to get here, a moving he could not remember, and there were no others of his kind here.

He saw an old house inside him, and humans, when these things were not there. And he knew he used to live in that house and act like one of those humans.

It hurt to have these things inside. He was used to having many things inside: insects, roots, stems and berries, the woods, the air and the dark; he had had all these things, but he had never had these human things inside before. He descended the tree tail first, landed on his rump, rolled over, and ambled off.

Something was different. He should be filling himself, but he could not fill himself. He should be ready for the cold, but somehow he knew he might not get ready this year. He might stay here, going back and forth through the woods even when the cold came. Something new inside was making him do this. This thought frightened him.

He stopped, pulled his ears back. Staring. This thing… he had never seen, never heard or smelled this thing before. Sniffing the air then staring ahead, eyes not moving. This new thing not moving.

He slapped the ground with both front paws. He gave a loud huff, blowing air and dark and smell of what he’d eaten. This new thing not moving.

He gnashed his teeth. Not moving. He began snapping his jaws rapidly while popping his lips together. Not moving.

He charged. Wind and ground and woods rushing.

The new thing did not move, did not seem to know he was charging. Was he charging? He no longer knew. He roared in fear.

At the last minute the bear veered off and ran away, thinking of the old house inside him, the humans, knowing he must see this place.