The Thorn Bear: Chapter III
Completely beside himself with joy, Teddy bounds through the forest. Here and there, he picks up a little worm or an aphid and feeds his chick. The newborn creature that is neither songbird nor goose, but perhaps some kind of duck.
Teddy sings so cheerfully that he does not notice the eyes following him.
Watching him ever since he left the mole’s burrow. Waiting for an opportunity ever since this stranger surprised him with the stick.
Silently, the marten creeps through the undergrowth and stalks closer. His stomach growls with hunger, but his next meal is inside the belly of the singing, dancing bear. The sweet egg yolk, deliciously slippery in his mouth, and the satisfying crack of eggshell breaking between his teeth.
This bear has no stick.
And no stone.
No claws.
Not even teeth.
He is dancing there without any protection at all.
Like a shadow, the marten darts across the open ground.
Chomp.
Teddy stumbles as one of his legs is taken from him. Where only moments ago he had been celebrating and rejoicing, he now limps and tries to understand what has happened.
The marten charges again, picking up speed as he rushes forward.
Chomp.
The other leg hangs between the predator’s teeth, and although Teddy’s stuffing is showing from his hips, the cuddly toy feels no pain. Helpless as a raw egg, he lies on the ground with his furry paws raised for one final hopeless fight.
“You won’t get my little one!” Teddy shouts, but the marten advances with drool hanging from his jaws.
Riiip!
Where only threads and fabric had remained of Teddy’s legs, there is suddenly a new pair. Black, webbed feet that step down uncertainly yet powerfully and feel the forest floor beneath them. Damp, soft earth, utterly different from the fluffy inside of the bear.
The not-a-bird-not-a-goose-maybe-duck thing runs one or two meters before Teddy stumbles and falls over. Panting, the marten races after him, confused and startled that his meal, despite having no legs of its own, is running away.
“Quickly, little one,” Teddy says. “Get us somewhere safe, or you’ll end up as marten food.” The bear lands on his feet again and sprints away. “That’s the wrong direction!”
Baring his teeth, the marten only has to open his jaws, because his meal is charging straight toward him. It cannot see where it is going. It can do nothing more than poke its beak through the opening in Teddy’s belly.
Fangs are ready to snap shut when, at the very last moment, the feet leap.
The legs are so powerful that Teddy flies.
Over teeth, jaws and ruin.
Onto the marten’s back, making the predator howl in pain and twist beneath him.
Still the legs keep running, faster and faster, swiftly leaving everything behind. Teddy looks over his shoulder and ducks beneath branches and roots. They have lost him. His chick has carried them to safety!
When they reach a meadow, the legs finally stop on the wild grass. A sea of sunflowers stretches toward the sky, and a voice says, “What kinda weird thing are you?”
A squirrel wearing a blue vest and shorts holds a guitar and studies the strange creature from a branch. It is an old instrument covered in scratches, its wood bleached by sunlight.
Teddy answers proudly, “I’m Teddy the Bear. Tom’s favorite cuddly toy and his best friend.”
“That much is obvious,” says the squirrel, chewing on a toothpick and plucking an off-key note on the guitar. “But what are those feet? And why have you got wire mesh wrapped around your belly?”
“I found an egg and protected it from the marten.”
“The marten?” the squirrel squeaks, ears shooting upright as the toothpick falls from his mouth. “He’s well known around here,” he adds, relaxing his ears again as he looks in all four directions and sees no danger. “Doesn’t like music. By the way, I’m Erik. Erik the Squirrel.”
Teddy nods in understanding, then continues, “I wrapped the wire around myself so the egg wouldn’t fall out of my belly. Now it’s hatched and I finally want to see it, but the wire is jammed. Will you help me?”
Erik pulls out a new toothpick, starts chewing on it and examines the bear and the wire. The duck feet dance impatiently on the ground while Teddy strokes his belly and whispers:
“Just be patient a little longer. You’ll be out soon and you can explore the world. Then I’ll finally see you in all your glory.”
Erik twists and pulls at the wire, causing the sharp points to dig deeper into the fur while the legs stamp more and more violently in place.
“I can’t get it open,” says the squirrel, picking up his guitar and beginning to tune the top string. “It’s rusted.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Teddy asks, and the legs freeze stiff.
“It’s obvious. The wire stays on.”
Lost in thought, Teddy is carried through the forest by the little one: if the wire will not come off, then the chick will not be able to get out. But it will grow and take up more and more space, growing until … yes, until Teddy bursts?
That would be terrible, because after all, he wants to return to the playroom. Back to the soldier who calls for adventures. Back to the porcelain doll in the yellow dress, who makes sure nothing gets broken. Back to Tom, who needs to be protected from nightmares and fears. Who needs to be cuddled, hugged and loved.
Even if Teddy is no longer as fluffy, is dripping with dirt and looks quite battered, he is still a loving cuddly toy.