The Woman and The Bear

There is a Woman who lives deep in the woods, on a hill crowded by trees. She’s lived there for years, ten by now at least, in a house made of sticks and stones, draped in moss like a blanket fort. She moved there with her husband and they lived off the land, in isolation, give or take a few tools and ancient cans of beans. The Woman’s most precious and essential contribution to the home was her garden, a lush and diverse selection of herbs and vegetables that sustained both her hunger and restless mind. Her hands were always dirty, her stomach always full. In the early days, small animals would nibble at the garden, teasing The Woman with their scavenging expertise and obvious possession of the land. The Woman was sad when the animals ravaged her hard work, so one day her husband set traps a few meters into the brush on the perimeter of the garden. That night, they heard screeching noises coming from the direction of the traps and the man ran off into the night to check on them. Once he slipped into the darkness, he was gone.

He never returned.

When I first met The Woman I was on a camping trip, and I stumbled onto her land by accident. She had a wise and magnetic energy, and the kindest eyes I had ever seen, which warded away my fear. She told me a lot of things: that she still hears her husband’s voice at night. She listens for it, staring into the darkness that stole him, and he hums to her through the wind. She told me she believes he died serving her, as all husbands should, trying to save her garden as well as her sanity. She recalls how the morning after his disappearance, she checked the traps on her own, in the safety of sunshine, still convinced that he would appear at any moment. Nothing was caught in the traps, but The Woman could make out prints in the dirt. Once she realized it was the paw of a bear, she knew in her heart he would not come back. She told me that after that night, the animals never touched her garden again. In fact, it flourished. Perhaps it was a cruel accident. Perhaps the man was a sacrifice, unto the forest, and in return she received an abundant source of life.

He was taken by The Bear.

The Bear.

The Bear ate him.

All of him. His Soul too.

Do you believe in Reincarnation?

She showed me a foul smelling hyde, claiming it was a gift from the bear that devoured her husband.

Sometimes,

Reincarnation can happen without Birth.

Sometimes,

All it takes is Death.

But nothing truly dies, does it?

The Woman believes that a bear consumed her husband, and that the man became The Bear, through a transfer of energy. The Woman believes that she too, will be taken by the bear one day, her soul absorbed into the colossal body, melded with her human lover.

He’s with The Bear.

He sings. They sing to me and give me presents.

I can’t wait until I am with The Bear.

She laughed and I saw black pieces of something stuck in her teeth. I had no desire to find out what it was.

We drank tea made from herbs in her garden. She told me stories about her dreams and her life in the woods. I wondered about her life before her husband, before the woods, but I could tell that whatever it had been was eroded and probably no longer existed. What did exist was the garden, the house, the tea we were drinking out of wooden cups and apparently, The Bear.

The fear that left me when I first looked into The Woman’s eyes started to resurface. I told her that I should probably get going; it would be dark soon, and my friends were probably starting to worry. I was about a half-mile from our camp, and I could make it back in the light if I left then. The Woman seemed distressed when I mentioned leaving, and told me that The Bear wanted to meet me tonight. I politely told her I couldn’t meet him tonight, but said that I would try to visit her one last time before I left the forest for good. I didn’t want her to know how scared I was or that I had no intention of coming back.

You will want me to stay with you.

You don’t want to meet The Bear alone.

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

I picked up the pace and graciously bowed out of the stone house, thanking her for the tea and hospitality. She didn’t follow me. She just watched me go with a worried expression on her face. I fixated on that expression in my head, turning it over and over, until I realized that I was lost.

I had sworn I was only a ten minute walk South.

I had sworn I would be home by dark.

I had sworn my phone wasn’t dead.

I had sworn I knew the path.

As the darkness got heavier, I became more confused, more disoriented by the circles I was walking in.

I shined my flashlight into the darkness, but I was terrified thinking about what it would illuminate.

I tried to find the moon in the sky, clinging to another familiar source of light, but I couldn’t find it. When the night came full force, I sat down on the ground and I gave up.

I heard the crackling first. It seemed to be coming from all directions. The sound of something big, walking. Breaking sticks beneath its feet like bones. I hoped that I would disintegrate into the darkness. I hoped that I was hidden.

I knew it was in front of me before I shined my flashlight. I could faintly hear singing, like a hum through the wind, just as The Woman had described. It was sweet at first, almost soothing, but over time it transformed into a thunderous roar. It was close enough that I could even smell its breath, like old fish and berries.

The moon betrayed me then, and rose above our heads, filtering in a bit of light through the trees.

The Bear could see me, and I could see it.

I could see her.

She had three cubs, all nuzzled into her.

Four sets of eyes stared into mine. I was frozen.

The cubs were small, freshly alive, acutely attuned to the energy of the forest. They held on tightly to their mother.

My eyes.

I can’t believe my eyes.

I jolted out of my skin at the sound of her voice. The Woman had crept up next to me as I sat mesmerized by The Bear.

When I looked at her face, she was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she grabbed my shaking hand with her calm one. She gave it a tight squeeze.

Birth.

I suppose The Woman had been waiting years for this moment. She let go of my hand and ran at full speed towards The Bear.

The Bear opened its arms to her, welcoming her, and she playfully took her place next to the other cubs, cuddling them, licking them, caressing them. They looked like a family.

As bizarre and terrifying as it was to witness, I couldn’t help but smile at how radiant the woman’s happiness was as she nestled herself into The Bear like an old friend.

Thinking about this smile haunts me now.

The Bear ripped open her neck with its claw. Her eyes rolled back white and blood poured out of the gash in her throat, putting the cubs in a frenzy. The Bear howled to the moon.

I couldn’t escape my impulses. I ran through the forest and I didn’t care what direction I was going in as long as it was away from The Bear. I scratched up my skin tripping over branches and tumbling down hills, until by a true miracle, I ended up at my camp. I was bleeding and delirious, screaming at everybody to hide from The Mama Bear that was chasing me in the woods. At first they believed me and indulged my panic, but when no bear showed up that night, and the park rangers found no detection of bears in our area, they tried to convince me that the forest at night had simply messed with my head. “It happens to the best of us,” they told me.

I knew then, that I would never mention The Woman. Not to them, or to anyone. I will disclose my secret here.

I spent many months trying to convince myself that I was crazy. I tried to forget The Woman and The Bear. But as hard as I have tried, I cannot.

I think about how perhaps The Woman knew she was running to her fate when she ran into The Bear’s arms. I think about how gracefully, how excitedly, how warmly she embraced Death. Although I saw her die, I think she’s still out there, plucking weeds from the garden, making tea and dancing to wind songs. I don’t think anyone can find her, except maybe me.

I still have dreams that The Bear breaks into my house, crashing through the front door or the window, finding me asleep in my bed, slashing my throat with its nails. I still have intrusive thoughts about why I met The Woman and The Bear, wondering why I’m still alive, wondering if and when I’ll meet them again.

I’ll probably have these dreams for the rest of my life.

It was silly of me to think I could outrun a bear.