#3 bears

'Katami National Park' by Leesha Hannigan, and 'Great Smoky Mountains National Park' pennant by Brave The Woods, a new print release through Fifty-Nine Parks.

'Katami National Park'. 18" x 24" 5 colour screen print on 100# Cougar White paper in an open edition for $40

'Great Smoky Mountains National Park Pennant'. 27" x 9" screen printed felt pennant for $25

5% of the print sale will be donated to the National Park Service.

(Next week we return to Stepmother and the Uncanny Dog and Friends)

When one leaves one's cottage in the woods with the doors unlocked, one really must be prepared for any kind of unusual encounter. Most of the time, the magic of homely thresholds keeps out things that are overtly evil, to be sure, but this does not include nuisances.

Why, you might step out to restock the larders and return to find a wolf trying on your second best nightgown without so much as a by-your-leave -- and what's worse, the lavender flannel complements the wolf's eyes so much better than it does yours. Or, just as alarming if not more so, you might come home to find children who have apparently turned to a life of termitetry and are devouring the framework of the house.

Well, if you've built a house of pastry, that's really your own fault. They don't make insurance policies for houses made of perishables.

So when two little girls called Rose-red and Snow-white (no relation to she-who-slumbers-in-the-mines, at least none that you can prove without waking her, we mean no insolence of course) returned to their mother's cottage one evening and discovered a great bear taking up the majority of the living room floor (which is a very large spot when your house only consists of the living room/kitchen and the bedroom), they knew they only had themselves to blame.

"I thought," said Rose-red, "That you closed the door?"

"I thought," said Snow-white, "That you did."

"Well that is a problem," remarked Rose-red. "I don't think we'll be able to chase him out before Mama comes home."

"I don't think that we should try anyhow," replied Snow-white. "It's bitter cold out for man or beast. It would be unkind to turn the bear out of doors on a day like today."

"And he might eat us if we try," Rose-red added.

"And he might eat us if we try," her sister agreed.

The bear opened one eye and gazed at them with an expression that was somehow both surly and amused, as though annoyed that his nap had been interrupted, but not wholly sorry that they had come. He rolled to one side and made a cavernous yawn, showing sharp yellow teeth. Both little girls were obviously shaken by this, but tried to put on a brave face.

"I can do that too," said Snow-white, and she opened her mouth as wide as it could go with a childish growl.

"Not bad," said the bear, "But a good roar ought to come from the diaphragm. Get a good deep breath first, next time."

Despite the fact that many animals in the forest spoke the languages of humans, the girls had not expected the bear to answer them, and both shrieked and darted behind the kitchen table. As if in answer to their unspoken prayers, the door burst open and their mother rushed in, having arrived home just in time to hear them scream. And there they all stood for a moment, just staring: a pair of twin children with eyes as red as roses and teeth as white as snow, a bear covered in old scars with eyes that swirled with magic, and a woman with locks of hair as yellow as gold.

"Hello, old friend," said the bear, "I've come to collect a debt."

The girls' mother snorted and gestured around the tiny cottage. "Well I haven't got any chairs for you to break or porridge for you to eat, if that's why you've come."

The bear rose to his haunches and his head brushed the ceiling. "You know it is not, Goldbraid." He turned his snout towards the girls, still watching from behind the table. "Take after their grandmother, don't they?" he asked, seeming to change the subject.

"We haven't got a grandmother," said Rose-red. "We've got a Mama, and a Grammy in the village, but not a grandmother."

"Well, there's Papa. Mama says he's a prince. That's sort of grand," said Snow-white.

"That's not a grandmother!" Rose-red argued, and the debate continued quite independent of the adults. Or rather, the adult human and the adult bear.

The bear, who happened to be called Moon for reasons known to none but his parents, ignored this as Goldbraid turned pale in both anger and concern.

"We swore we'd never speak of the queen. What's done is done, Moon. I never regretted anything but involving the woodfolk in my battle."

"Well that's the thing, isn't it?" Moon drawled. "It really isn't quite so done as we thought. Word from the flying folk is that the mining folk are on the move again. First time in seven years, which is no doubt significant."

Goldbraid scowled. "The mining folk? They withdrew from the world when we imprisoned she-who-slumbers-in-the-mines -- may she never return -- and vowed never to venture near the surface again. If the birds and insects are aware of them, then they've broken their vow."

Which meant, of course, that they must've had a reason to do so. Seven year seals breaking might do it. Goldbraid hoped fervently that it hadn't come to that.

"When you were a child, just the favored playmate of the noble children, you came to my mother and father and begged them to save you from the queen," Moon bared his teeth in a decidedly disconcerting smile. "And they did. The woodland folk and their magic taught you how to hide and fight and survive. And what good fortune our teachings brought you! Free of the queen, married to her son, what irony, and with two lovely children."

"Get to the point, Moon," said Goldbraid, who did not like these reminders, nor did she like how her daughters now appeared to be listening intently. They were too young to know this yet. "What do you want?"

Moon rose to his paws and made as if to leave. "You owe the forest your life, Goldbraid," the bear said. "And now the forest requires your service in a delicate matter involving your mother-in-law."

"But the seals-!"

"-mean nothing," Moon made an agitated noise that as as much growl as worried hum. "Snow White is awakening."