Little Goat Mountain hitchhiking

There is a swirl of new hues when her eyes peel open again. Black and orange, black and orange; it touches her.
A squawk of unrest comes from her chest, gurgling, before she tumbles away from whatever it was that reached for her. Don't touch me.
Blink, blink. What was that?
Her muscles long to twitch ears that remain folded to her head. Stumbling, crawling, she watches from a safe distance, this stranger. Did she know him? Yes, decidedly, as her nostrils flare and then clench shut, she did. Brother. A concept almost as foreign to her as father would be, if she only knew what that was.
She does not know the bear and yet he seems to smile at her, black and rancid, through the eyes of brother.