Deepwood Weald Once Again

At almost a month old, Katmai was beginning to get the hang of keeping his legs beneath him. He often tried wandering from the den, but there were almost always jaws there ready to put him right back where he belonged. Today was different — the black bear woman was napping in the dappled sunlight near the mouth of the den, ostensibly blocking their way. But there was enough room to sneak past. Sneak, or dance, as his sister had.

Katmai followed, giving the bear a wide berth. He eyed her warily for a moment, but she slept on.

Gamboling now, he followed the flick of his sister's tail. Snappy young jaws made a valiant lunge in its direction, hoping to pincer it between his teeth.