The Thorn Bear: Chapter IV, Part 2
Silently, without exchanging a word, it carries them through the forest. For days, there has been silence between them when Teddy’s stomach growls with hunger.
Of course, not his.
Because he is a toy.
Shifting from one foot to the other, the legs wait above a juicy earthworm poking its little head out of the soil. The segmented worm writhes and burrows through the rain-soaked ground. From the slit in Teddy’s belly, the beak snaps at its food.
Sniffs and rasps.
Waiting to be fed.
But Teddy makes the little one wait. Instead, he examines the useless arm hanging by a few threads and the tears opening across his fur.
He is angry. Furious that he is not with his Tom. Then everything would be fine. He would not have to stand here staring at earthworms, but could be in the playroom.
He could …
Again, his stomach growls.
No, not his.
Not the chick’s either.
But his!
The marten’s, who does not even bother to sneak anymore.
He stands before them, little more than skin and bones. Unkempt fur has fallen out in clumps and stretches over his gaunt paws. The silhouette of the once-powerful animal is barely more than a shadow. His breathing is shallow and rattling. His bristly tail twitches and lashes, ragged and weak.
“You want my chick?” Teddy asks, the words heavy in his throat. “Then take it! I can’t defend myself. I don’t even like it anymore!”
The few hairs left on the marten’s neck rise as he extends his broken claws. His tongue runs over dull and missing fangs; then he lunges. Despite his pitiful weight and lack of strength, he throws Teddy onto his back.
The chick’s legs kick helplessly in the air, its tail trapped beneath him.
“Do it quickly!” Teddy screams while the marten chews at the thorny wire mesh. Bites through it to reach the delicious egg.
The egg that hatched long ago, that is neither bird nor duck. Neither goose nor beaver.
“Don’t make this so hard for me!” the bear roars, remembering the egg he found and protected.
Always!
Quacking, his little one cries out for help, the protective wire nearly bitten through.
If they were in Tom’s house, none of this would have happened. If Teddy had eyes, he would cry, but he is a toy.
He would cry his eyes out because he is not fighting for his little one.
Riiip.
The bear’s useless arm falls to the ground. Into the dirt among the earthworms.
But he did it himself.
Tore it off with his own hand.
Separated himself from it and stuffs it into the greedy mouth. The marten coughs and gags, nearly choking on the once wonderfully fluffy fur. Teddy the Bear has neither claws nor teeth, but his remaining paw hurls the marten away, slamming him into a tree.
“I’m going to see what’s inside me!”
The marten’s eyes dart around uncertainly as he finally coughs up the arm. Teddy stretches out the one he has left. He is ready. The marten charges. Leaps.
A foot comes flying toward him.
Yelping.
Howling.
Hissing, the animal limps away. Breathes hard and shallow. Collapses and lies still.
Motionless, because he is dead.
At peace.
“What are you, little one?” the bear asks and looks down at the feet. A spur protrudes from the heel. A spike with something dripping from it. Not the marten’s blood, but a thick secretion.
Venom.
Strong enough to kill the weakened marten. Smiling, Teddy plucks an earthworm from the ground and holds it out to the beak.
“I have no idea what you are. But I’m your family now, and I love you!”