The Thorn Bear: Chapter IV
After weeks of wandering and straying, after attacks and mishaps, after rats, moles and squirrels, Teddy finally reaches the edge of the forest. Rows of timber-framed houses speak of the safety and comfort of human civilization.
There, behind the neatly kept front garden and the crimson-red front door, lives Tom.
His Tom.
His best friend, whom he protects and keeps warm on cold nights.
“We’ll be safe there, little one. Tom will help us, I’m sure of it.” The barbed wire strains around the bear’s belly; he has grown thick. Not Teddy, because he is a toy. No, the chick has grown large. So large, in fact, that it threatens to tear apart the already stretched fabric in several places.
“Go on. Just a few more steps,” the bear says impatiently, but the feet stop abruptly. “Tom will remove the wire. Then you’ll be free, and he’ll make me whole again.”
But the chick remains where it is and turns on the spot, facing the forest. The kindness leaves Teddy’s voice as he snaps:
“We are going into that house now, do you hear me! You’ll be happy, I’ll be happy and Tom will be happy. So march into your new home!”
And indeed, the chick moves.
Away from the house.
Past trees and bushes that lead back into the wild.
Teddy curses and flails with his paws, trying to stop the legs carrying him away from his goal. The fabric on his back gives way, revealing chestnut-colored, bristly fur. The vegetation grows denser, and still it carries the bear farther into the forest. No words, no curse can stop the chick. He does not want to go back into these woods.
Back to the marten that has been hunting them.
He has finally made it.
His Tom is so close.
Right behind that door.
After months apart, they will finally be reunited and play. Play and cuddle. Cuddle and laugh. Laugh and dance. Dance and play. All they have to do is walk through that door.
Tom is waiting for him!
One of Teddy’s arms catches on the wire mesh and the fabric tears. Hanging by only a few threads, the paw dangles uselessly.
The fur he had once been so proud of is matted and sticky. Mixed with dirt and grime that not even the Crystal Lake could wash away. He is no longer the bear he once was.
He is broken.
Torn and worn.
The timber-framed houses blur behind a curtain of leaves, and if Teddy had eyes instead of buttons, he would cry.
Cry from the helplessness of being carried away by legs that refuse to obey him. All he can do is complain and scream and wave his remaining paw.
But it changes nothing.
It carries him farther.
Away from this refuge of beautiful memories.