The Brown Bear

There was and there was not a morning where Raven climbed the misted path that wound like a silver ribbon into the high woods. The clouds had slipped low, brushing against the earth, softening every edge.

It was there she found Brown Bear.

A large shape, dark and steady, moving quietly through the cloud. Raven watched as the heavy paws pressed into the soft earth, leaving almost no sound. Brown Bear paused, nose to the wind, then turned with slow recognition.

"Ah… there you are, Little Wing," Brown Bear rumbled, his voice somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. "I thought you might find me."

Raven tilted her head. "What are you doing up here, old friend?"

Brown Bear’s eyes, deep and kind, flicked to the trees beyond. "I am searching for the lone moose. There are tracks. There is silence. I suspect there is company, even if I cannot see him yet."

They walked together, Raven’s feathers catching beads of mist.

After a while, Raven spoke. "You always walk like the weight of the forest rests on your shoulders."

Brown Bear stopped and gave a thoughtful snort. "It does… and it doesn’t." He tapped the ground gently with a paw. "Things come, things go. Storms pass. Paths change. The ones who survive, like the lone moose, like you, like me, learn how to bend, not break."

Raven frowned slightly. "Bend?"

"Aye." Brown Bear ambled forward again. "Not everything needs to be fought. Not every thought needs to be believed. Sometimes… we hold what hurts without letting it steer us." He smiled faintly. "That, Little Wing, is how we walk through clouds without getting lost."

Raven mulled the words over. They reached a clearing where the fog had thickened, wrapping the trees in pale grey silk. Brown Bear suddenly slowed.

"Let’s be quiet now," he whispered, voice low and gentle. "Talk softer. We don’t want to frighten the moose."

Raven nodded. They stood side by side, listening. No moose appeared, yet the stillness itself seemed to offer something rare and valuable.

After a time, Brown Bear whispered again, barely louder than the breeze. "You’ll understand more in your own way. The woods teach us in pieces."

And with that, they continued their silent watch, two unlikely companions fading into the mist.

Some journeys are not about finding, but about learning how to keep walking through what cannot be cleared.

© 2025 Sarah Dooley. Story and images by the author. All rights reserved.