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Yor knows how to dismember a man twelve different ways, but she can’t figure out how to set up this tent.
She had to make herself useful somehow while Loid went out to collect firewood. But now he’ll be back any minute, and all Yor has to show for her efforts is a mangled pile of red fabric and tent poles.
She chews her thumb nail. A normal mother would know how to do this. What if Loid comes back and sees what a mess she’s made, and he wants to end their marriage, and—
“Mama!”
Yor spins around. Anya peers up at her from underneath the brim of her hat.
“Anya wants to hunt and gather in the woods.”
Hunt... ? Oh, right. The most recent episode of Anya’s favorite cartoon involved someone stranded in the woods and having to depend on survival skills.
Yor stifles a giggle and kneels down to adjust the bandana around Anya’s neck. “That sounds lovely, Miss Anya. Just don’t wander too far.”
“Okey-dokey!” Anya salutes and sprints towards the trees.
Yor’s attention wanders back to the sad excuse of a tent. She wipes at her forehead and sweat clings to her skin—partly from the summer heat, but her building anxiety isn’t helping either.
What if she ruins the whole camping trip because of this? Everything has been perfect until now... They had a pleasant hike up to the campsite and saw a beautiful waterfall along the way. There was a moment where Yor looked over at Loid carrying Anya on his shoulders, at the two of them looking so happy that she’d almost forgotten...
She’s losing focus. Hmm, what if she thinks of the tent poles as human bones that she’s arranging into a threatening display—no, no! A normal wife and mother wouldn’t think that way!
Something prickles at the back of her mind. Anya is being rather quiet… Yor whips her head around, scanning the nearby patch of woods, and—
She’s gone. Anya is gone.
Panic claws up the back of Yor’s throat. “Miss Anya?” She stumbles over the crumpled up fabric of the tent. “Miss Anya, are you there?”
No answer.
Yor’s heart thumps against her ribs as she crashes into the woods. She searches frantically for any sign of Anya, but she only sees tall trees and the forest floor covered in leaves and twisting roots.
Her eyes sting and she presses her hands to her face. This is all her fault! She was so worried about the tent that she wasn’t paying attention. And now Anya could have been eaten by wolves, or kidnapped, or—
Yor dodges between trees and leaps over roots. She calls Anya’s name countless times. Nothing.
She stops to catch her breath. The sun is sinking, its last golden rays slicing between the trees. A fresh wave of fear washes over Yor as she imagines poor little Anya, lost and alone in the dark. Or worse…
Wait. There, on the ground. A light-colored object lies amidst the roots. Anya’s hat! Yor snatches it up and clutches it.
There’s a dull thud behind her. A twig snaps.
“Miss Any—” Even before she turns all the way, Yor’s voice catches in her throat. That footstep sounded too heavy to be Anya. Too heavy to be human.
A hulking form stands a few paces away. A pair of beady black eyes glare at her. The creature’s shaggy brown fur ruffles in the breeze, and its sides heave with furious breaths.
A bear!
Yor drops Anya’s hat. “You…” Burning-hot, explosive rage consumes her. Her fingers tremble and the edges of her vision go blurry. “What have you done with Anya?”
Her cry sends a flock of birds scattering from a nearby tree. Even the bear takes a small step back, its ears flattening. Then it growls, bares its teeth, and lumbers straight towards Yor.
The world is a blur of sky and branches, dirt and twigs. Yor’s back hits the ground. Her arms strain to push the bear away. Spittle flies from its teeth and speckles her face. Yor wrenches her arm free and punches the bear in the jaw.
They tumble down a slope. Branches scratch at Yor’s face and arms. She only narrowly dodges the bear’s teeth and claws. Animalistic growls fill the air, and she’s not sure whether they’re coming from the bear or herself.
Yor straddles the bear and pins her forearm along its throat as it tries to swipe at her with a massive paw. Something warm trickles down the side of her face. Sweat? Blood? It doesn’t matter. Yor presses her arm harder against the bear’s windpipe. If this monstrous creature hurt Anya—
“Mama! Mama, stop!”
The haze of rage retreats from the edges of Yor’s vision. “Anya... ?” She looks up, blinking, as if she’s been shaken awake from a dream.
Anya stumbles out of a nearby hollow in the ground. Twigs are caught in her pink hair and dirt smudges her knees and face. But otherwise, she appears unharmed.
“Miss Anya!” Yor leaps off the bear and scoops Anya up in her arms. “Oh, thank goodness! I—I thought...”
Wait—the bear is still behind them. Yor whirls around, one arm tightening around Anya and the other held in front of her in a fighting stance. The bear staggers towards them as a snarl builds in its throat—but then hesitates, hovering near the hollow that Anya just crawled out of.
And... something is moving in there. Curious black eyes blink in the shadows. Three small, furry heads emerge.
Yor gasps and lowers her arm. “You...” She takes a hesitant step forward. The bear growls and Yor stops. “You were protecting your babies?”
The mother bear steps in front of the hollow to shield her cubs. A low growl rumbles out of her—but there’s something beneath the fury in her dark eyes that Yor didn’t notice until now. The same thing Yor felt when she found Anya’s hat lying on the ground, when she thought she was too late.
Fear.
Anya stares at her intensely, her eyes round. It occurs to Yor how disheveled—and frightening—she looks. She’s certain her hair is in disarray, and she must have dirt and possibly blood on her face. In other words… not very mother-like. Her heart sinks.
But then Anya blinks as if broken from a trance. She turns towards the bear, coughs into her fist, and says loudly, “It’s okay, Big Mama Bear! Anya just fell in the hole where your babies are and was playing with them while you were gone. And then Anya’s mama was worried and came to rescue her. But she doesn’t want to hurt you or your babies. Right, Mama?”
Yor looks from Anya’s earnest gaze to the bear and back again—and is surprised to find the bear listening with her head tilted, as if she actually understands.
Cautiously, Yor bows her head. “Y-Yes, it’s true. I wish no harm on your family. It’s just that... I thought my own family was in danger.”
The wind rustles in the trees and birds chirp in the distance. At last, the bear’s demeanor relaxes. She shuffles backward and grumbles—apologetic this time rather than malicious. She dips her snout to the edge of the hollow, and her cubs stumble out to greet her. Their mother nuzzles each of them—then looks up at Yor again and lowers her head.
Something melts around Yor’s heart. She hoists Anya up in her arms, holding her closer, and returns the bear’s nod. She swears she can feel a silent understanding pass between them—one mother bowing to another.
***
“Anya is sorry she ran away,” Anya says as Yor carries her back towards the campsite. She clutches her hat, which they retrieved along the way. “Is Mama angry?” Her lower lip wobbles.
“Angry? Oh, no. I’m just glad you’re not hurt, Miss Anya. You scared me.”
Anya rubs her eye. “Anya’s sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Yor holds Anya closer and pats her on the back. “Just don’t wander off like that again, okay?”
Anya wraps her arms around Yor’s neck and nods against her shoulder. “Thanks for saving me, Mama,” she says, voice muffled. Before Yor can reply, Anya lifts her head with a gasp. “Papa’s here!”
Yor stops and scans their surroundings, and only sees the dusk falling over the forest. But then Loid comes dashing out from a nearby copse of trees, looking around wildly, until his gaze lands on Yor and Anya. A mix of emotions crosses his face—surprise, relief, worry—before he stumbles towards them.
“Yor, Anya. Are you alright? I got back to the campsite and you were gone.”
Yor’s throat tightens. “I—I’m sorry, Loid,” she blurts. “I didn’t finish setting up the tent. And then I lost track of Anya, and—”
“And Mama fought a bear!” Anya chimes in. “It was so cool!”
“You what?” Loid places a hand on Yor’s shoulder, startling her into looking up. His eyes are wide. “A bear? Yor, is that true? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, but...” Yor swallows. “I’m sorry, Loid. I couldn’t even set up the tent.”
Loid blinks. “You—you fought a bear and you’re worried about the tent?”
She holds back a wince. “I know, it… it probably wasn’t very proper of me to fight a bear, either.”
“That’s not—” Loid starts to say, then snaps his mouth shut. Something surfaces in his eyes—a flicker of genuine concern. He reaches up and brushes some stray twigs out of Yor’s hair, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. “Yor… you could’ve been very hurt, or worse. You both could have.” He looks between her and Anya. “But, you’re both safe. You protected our daughter. That’s what matters.”
Yor’s eyes sting and she smiles weakly.
Loid’s brow furrows. “Are you sure you’re alright? Do you want to go home?”
Yor shakes her head. “No, no! I’m fine, really. And I want to finish this camping trip properly—as a family.”
A moment passes, and Loid regards her with surprise—but then his expression softens and he smiles back at her. “Let’s get back to the campsite, then,” he says. “I can help you with the tent. Then we can build a fire and toast marshmallows.”
Anya throws her hands in the air. “Yay, mash-mellows!”
Loid carries Anya the rest of the way to the campsite. Anya recounts the entire bear incident to Loid with all the drama she’d use to describe the plot of one of her favorite cartoons. Loid listens intently, occasionally cutting in with a question.
Yor trails alongside them. Warmth blooms in her chest—which is odd, since she just fought a bear and all. But more importantly, she knows now how fiercely she’ll protect Anya and Loid. It’s only a mother’s instinct to do so.
Next time, though, she hopes it won’t involve fighting as many bears.