#bears bravery

Ursa was quick to put some breathing room between her and the animated doors. She wandered, feeling little hope that she could ever find Tuur in such a massive place but uncertain that the world above was ever worth going back to without him.

The souls of the departed ignored her. Other scarier underworld denizens took more interest, but when they caught a glimpse of her three-headed traveling companion, they carefully kept their distance.

And so, she wandered, resting from time to time and snuggling with Cerberus when her loneliness threatened to overtake her. In time, the scenery changed. She saw great rivers and seas, grasslands, tundra, and even the deep lush forests that made her feel so at home. At times, she even forgot that she was in the underworld at all. Either the light had shifted to the greens all around her, or her eyes had adapted. She couldn’t be certain, nor did she care.

Cerberus’s leftmost head waited with stick in mouth, ready for her to take it and throw it once more. His middle head seldom rested, ears always perked, listening for danger. But it was his rightmost head that had become Ursa’s confidant these past few months. Though he never spoke—none of his heads ever did—it was the rightmost head that always listened when she talked. His eyes watched her closely, his brows lifted as if he was carefully considering what she said.

“Am I wasting my time?” she asked him. “Is this hopeless? Is it even possible to find someone in such a place, or would you have to have a guide?”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his brows drawn together as if to say, “I don’t know.”

“And if I chose to leave,” she continued, “could I? We’ve been wandering for ages! I’ve only got the faintest notion of how we got here. I certainly couldn’t retrace our steps.”

She took a moment to toss the stick for Lefty. When they returned, Righty took up his post beside her, listening intently once more. “Do you suppose he’s looking for me?” she asked the dog. “He had to have known that I’d come. I mean, of course I did. But there’s no sign, no clues, no…”

She stopped and leaned against his shoulder for a long while. Then, she wiped her eyes, letting out a half-smile when Righty licked her cheek. “I guess I’m … disappointed. I feel like he’s left me.” Ursa shook her head. “Well, of course he has, but I wonder if he gave up on me coming back for him.”

The two of them—or four, depending on how you counted—stepped out of the trees and into a wide green clearing. The druid paused, her blue eyes squinting a moment as she caught a ray of yellow sunshine that glinted through the trees. She pointed. “Did you see that?”

Without waiting, she transformed into a hawk and soared above the trees. Though not bright, there absolutely was a yellowish light way off in the distance. Could this be the sign she’d been searching for? Was this Tuur’s doing? A fire? A beacon of some sort he’d set up to draw her attention?

Her heart lifted, and she wanted to set off across the treetops, but instead, she circled back around, refusing to leave Cerberus behind. And so, they traveled together: her flying from one branch to another, then waiting for the giant dog to bound through the trees and catch up. Occasionally, she’d soar back above the canopy before heading back down once more, adjusting their trajectory so they wouldn’t veer off the true path.

Whatever the light was, it continued to burn day-in and day-out. She rested when she had to and traveled whenever she could. And in less than a week, she was there.

Ursa slipped back into her bear form and stepped from the trees. There, not thirty yards away, sat a familiar-looking panda, sitting with his back toward her and warming his hands against the yellow-orange glow. Tuur turned his head a moment, and he fixed her with his soft brown eyes. He gave her a sad smile before turning back.

“I was wondering if you’d come for this,” he said with a voice that every fiber of her being had missed.

“Yeah, well,” Ursa sighed as she stepped closer, “I kinda need it.”

He nodded without looking back. “Should never have given it to me.”

That made her smile. “I never intended to, y’know? It just sorta … happened.”

Tuur scooted over and Ursa took a seat beside him on the fallen log, snuggling up close. “I’m glad you did though,” he whispered. He rubbed his hands together for a moment before extending them once again. He warmed his palms with the heat radiating from Ursa’s glowing heart as it hovered above the ring of stones like a campfire. He explained, “It’s brought me great comfort this whole time.”

The druid pressed a fist against her hollow chest. She squeezed her eyes closed and forced a tear to run down her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so, so, so much…”

“I’ve missed you too, honeysuckle.” Tuur put his arm around her and pulled her close. He kissed her on the cheek, then smacked his lips a few times, savoring the taste. “But you know I can’t go. This is my place now.”

She looked at him with red eyes, and he smiled. “Take it,” he said. “Use it. Love someone else.”

Ursa buried her face in his shoulder. She grabbed two fistfuls of his black and white fur. “I can’t.”

He turned and cupped her face in his palms. “Of course, you can. You still have time left. Please don’t waste it.”

“I could never love another,” she sniffled.

“Then, I’ll be here, waiting for you, when you’re finished.”

She bit her lip. “But what if I do?” she whimpered. “What if I do find someone else? What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Tuur.

“Hold me,” she begged. “Kiss me.”

But the panda just shook his head. “I want to. I do. But every moment you spend here with me is just going to make it all the harder for you to go back, to go back where you belong.” He drew a great breath and released it slowly, his brown eyes sparkling in the firelight of Ursa’s heart. “Take it. Go home and live the rest of your life. When you’re ready, I’ll still be here, waiting.”

Ursa shook her head. “No! I can’t. That was the only way I found you in the first place,” she explained. “If I take it back, then I’ll never find you again. I just know it!”

Tuur just smiled. With his bare hands, he took her heart from where it hovered. And with a gentle push, he put it back where it belonged, deep inside her chest. Then, he cupped her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t be so silly,” he said as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

Then, he sat back and basked a moment in the warm yellow glow that radiated from her. “You won’t have to,” he promised. “I’ll find you.”

~

Epilogue: Life Goes On.

I’d really love to hear what you thought of the story, if you’ve read it now  Here’s a link to the full short story, not as images (Public and free!) for ease of reading/accessibility: https://www.patreon.com/posts/64763185

In the morning—if indeed it was morning, as the underworld remained lit to a dull red glow the entire time she’d been underground—Ursa uncurled from beside Cerberus and climbed her staff hand-over-hand until she had more or less regained her feet. Her back ached from sleeping on jagged rocks, and she winced when she put her weight on her injured knee. The hellhound had shattered her bones, and her magic had healed them once more, but “good as new” they were not.

After a quick, conjured breakfast, the pair continued on their way. The druid kept a steady—albeit slow—pace, but the three-headed dog took the long way: running this way and that, snorfling urgently at scents that only he could detect, and marking the passage from time to time as he went.

After a half-hour or so of shambling, keeping as much weight on her staff as she could manage, the passageway opened to a cavern so vast that it was hard to believe they could still be underground. In fact, the extents faded into the distance, so she doubted she could see precisely just how vast it truly was.

And everywhere, everywhere she looked, souls of the departed gathered. Some sat in groups, others wandered singly, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed her. “Tuur!” she shouted at the multitudes, then not as loud, “Tuur.”

Her staff slipped from her grip and clattered against the stone. “Shit,” she whispered to no one. She hung her head. “I suppose it makes sense … everyone who has ever passed away in all of history…”

Cerberus stooped, and his leftmost head retrieved her staff, then held it out for her until she took it from his mouth. “Thanks buddy,” she said, taking a moment to pet his snout. “Hope you’re not expecting to play fetch with it.”

“Aw, why the long face?” asked a melodious voice from behind her.

Ursa spun as quickly as she could manage without falling over, she raised her staff defensively, but the bear leaning up against the cavern wall did not react. He just smiled as if this were the greatest place to be.

And. He. Was. Gorgeous!

Despite her eternal love for Tuur, just the sight of the grizzly with the perfect cinnamon fur was enough to make her heart beat louder. He had golden eyes, powerful muscles, and a belly so vast that it looked like he was ready for winter’s nap. And sure, the horns on his head and the bat wings on his back were unusual, but with the look he had going, they worked.

“Oh, I see,” he said, his perfectly white teeth sparkling like stars, “you’ve come looking for someone named Tuur.”

“I… I am!” she gasped. Then, struggling to contain herself, she hobbled closer. “Do you know him? He’s a panda with a terrible sense of humor, the sweetest disposition, and brown eyes so soft…” She shook herself from her memories. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The bear grinned wide. His eyes disappeared into crescents and his teeth gleamed so brightly that they filled Ursa’s vision. She leaned forward on her toes waiting until he laughed, “Not a chance!”

“Oh,” the druid huffed, sinking in on herself slightly.

“But I do know a lovely couple who will!”

“You do?” she gasped, but he was already walking away, strolling with long strides as if headed to a fancy party. “Wait! Wait!” Ursa called as she hobbled after him.

Cerberus whined but remained by the druid’s side, and the two rushed to keep up with the cinnamon grizzly. Though he walked quickly, he never let himself get so far ahead that Ursa lost track of him.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the druid scrunched up her face, confused at the sight. A pair of doors, each standing seven foot tall and nearly three feet wide, had been mounted to a flat spot in the cavern floor. With craftsmanship beyond any she’d seen before, both had been carved to resemble a bear’s face. But though the doors’ bases looked sturdy enough, there wasn’t any sort of wall behind them. The two were free-standing in their casings as if someone had forgotten to build a home behind them.

“Uh,” Ursa muttered, confused. She took a moment to peek around the doors, but the back sides looked no different than the fronts.

“Never mind that,” laughed the winged bear. From atop one of the doors, he snatched a wand, and from the darkness above them, four brilliant lights came to life like sunlight streaming through gaps in dark clouds—one focused on either of the doors, one on the cinnamon grizzly, and one on Ursa herself. She winced and shielded her eyes, her night vision so disrupted that the rest of the cavern fell away into darkness.

The horned bear pointed the wand at his mouth, and in the smoothest of tones, he announced, “Welcome once again! Today’s challenger is…” He pointed the wand at the druid’s mouth and waited, his teeth sparkling like diamonds.

“Uh… Ursa?” she said into the twig.

“Welcome, Ursa!” he laughed, the wand pointed back at his own mouth. With a twinkle in his eye, he explained, “Today, Ursa will be facing two doors. Door number one has been carved from hickory, and the grain has been polished to a beautiful shine.”

The carving on the leftmost door came to life. It looked shyly down, a blush of mahogany coming to each of her cheeks. “Oh, Typhon, that’s so kind of you to say!”

“Oh, whatever,” grunted the face carved into the rightmost door.

“Door number two has been carved from one single slab of oak!” Typhon announced.

“Like that’s something to be proud of,” huffed the hickory door.

“Uh,” interrupted Ursa, “and how is this supposed to help me find Tuur?”

“Because,” the horned bear explained with one finger raised, “stepping through one of these doors will take you right to him!”

The druid frowned, apprehension lining her face. “And the other?”

“To annihilation!” Typhon cheered, his voice dripping with honey.

“What?” gasped Ursa.

“He means,” the door on the left explained, “that if you were foolish enough to step through that door,”—the hickory face glared at the oaken door—“then you’ll be completely annihilated, and you’ll never be able to reunite with Tuur—not even in death.”

“Ugh,” the oaken door growled. “Why do you tell everyone that? You’re the door that leads to annihilation!”

Ursa’s lower lip drooped. She turned to the winged bear. “Which door leads me to Tuur?”

“Don’t ask me! Only they know. But I’ll warn you,” the cinnamon bear laughed, mugging a grin as if he were using his favorite catchphrase, “Someone’s a Liar!”

“So, I guess you’re saying that I need to … uh…” she said, seeking affirmation from Typhon that he wasn’t giving her, “have to first discern which door is the liar … and then ask the other door which one leads to Tuur?”

The winged bear only smiled. Ursa looked over at Cerberus, but though he tilted his head supportively, his size and strength couldn’t help her. So, she turned back to the doors and addressed them both, “What color is my fur?”

The carved bears responded simultaneously; though the oaken door replied, “Brown,” while the hickory door said, “A lovely shade of brown.”

Ursa scowled. Her fur was brown, so the oaken door hadn’t lied. Did that mean that her fur being lovely was a lie?

She scowled over at Typhon, but he winked when he explained, “It would be far too simple a challenge if one door could only tell lies, my dear. One of them lies, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not capable of telling the truth.”

“Okay,” said Ursa, “so, I need to figure out which door is incapable of lying and ask them which door to take.”

Hickory started, “If you wanted to know who was capable of cruelty—”

But Oak interrupted, “Back to this, huh? I already apologized! And you never even—”

“I don’t owe you forgiveness!” shouted Hickory.

“Guys?” Typhon whispered from the side of his mouth. “We’re getting off track here.”

“And how could I forgive,” Hickory barreled on, “when you just keep doing it?”

“All I said was—”

“I know what you said!”

“But all I—”

“It wasn’t what you said, and you know it!” she shouted over him. “It was how you said it!”

“I can see that you guys are having some issues right now…” Ursa said in a reassuring voice, but her attempt to mediate between the doors fell flat.

“This is the same sort of crap you’ve pulled for the last millennium!” shouted Hickory.

“Me?” Oak shouted back. “Ever think that maybe you’re over-sensitive and taking everything as an attack? I could ask what time it is, and you’d pretend that I was calling you old!”

Cerberus whined and the druid leaned back against him, frowning hard.

“C’mon, I need you on your A-game, guys!” the horned bear hissed at the doors, but they ignored him, shouting louder and louder—shouting always, listening never.

Typhon looked over at Ursa. He smiled at her, but the smooth, easy grin he’d worn before looked faded and desperate. “Heh. Looks like today’s challenge is … uh, extra exciting!”

“Not really,” the druid huffed. “Pretty simple stuff, actually.”

Typhon’s face lit with hope once more. “Oh yeah? I mean of course, oh yeah! For a clever adventurer like you … uh…”

The druid just stared at him, and he searched desperately for something to say. At last, he managed, “Someone’s a Liar!” but he failed to deliver it with even a fraction of the charm he’d used before.

“Yup,” said Ursa.

“Oh, uh, so you’ve figured out which door is which?”

Ursa leaned her weight back on her staff. “They both lead to oblivion,” she said as she turned to walk away.

“Uh, no!” Typhon chuckled. “That’s not how this game is played!”

“And you,” Ursa said without looking back, “are the liar.”

Writing by my author friend Gre7g Luterman! Illustration by me~