The Redwoods

by Ross Turner

  Then, from between the mother bear’s legs, appearing from the shadows, scurried the bear cub. The mother growled warningly at her son, but he cast a quick glance up at her, almost as if to reassure her that there was no danger. This strange role reversal shocked the mother, and she watched in undisguised awe as her cub climbed atop the young girl’s lap.

  Vivian smirked at first, feeling the bear cub nuzzle his nose against her skin, tickling her. Then, as he climbed over her cold body, his radiating heat warmed her to her core, and his fur was soft like velvet to the touch, and she couldn’t help but adore him.

  She sat up, cradling the cub gently in her arms, and in the still radiant moonbeams she could see that his fur was a deep, rich, lustrous red, like the great Redwood Forest all around. Looking up at the mother now too, without fear of any kind, Vivian could see that her fur too was the same colour, rippling over her vast, muscular bulk.

  Vivian smiled up at the great red bear before her, mother to the cub that she was cradling in her arms, and a good mother at that, for just like her own parents, Vivian knew she would protect her son with her life, if that were the cost. Somehow, here, in the depths of the Redwoods, the young girl felt at least a little fulfilled once more, though nothing could take away the pain of the loss of her own family.

  As the young girl looked up at her, the mother bear saw that her eyes were the softest of blues, and so youthful and full of life that they were almost even glowing, shining. Her instincts kicked into overdrive then, either paternal or something else, she didn’t know. There was clearly something very strange and very special about this girl.

  She couldn’t possibly be one of the Featherstones, could she?

  Surely this couldn’t be young Vivian?

  They were the most powerful of their kind. What in the world would possess them to allow their daughter to venture so far into the Redwoods, alone?

  But then the mother bear remembered, the girl hadn’t been alone…

  She turned immediately and paced back over to inspect the carcass of the man she had mauled. She didn’t need to look upon it, for she smelled all she needed to know the second she focused her attention on it. It was an evil smell she had overlooked in her frenzied fury to protect her son.

  She recognised the scent, and a deep, threatening growl rumbled from the back of her throat.

  Greystones.

  The mother bear then walked back over to the young girl, who was watching her curiously with her beautiful, glowing eyes.

  The bear then did something that Vivian would never in a hundred years or more have expected. She sighed deeply, letting a long breath whistle out between her razor sharp teeth, and looked directly at the young, defenceless girl.

  “What is your name?” The mother bear asked. Her voice was powerful and gruff, deep and resonating, but also oddly gentle, with that soft touch of motherhood embedded within it.

  The sound startled Vivian and she struggled to find her tongue, for indeed it was something that she had not anticipated, instead of a mauling she was having a conversation.

  “Erm, my name is Vivian…” She replied, still a little unsure now that this wasn’t all just a strange and terrifying dream. The attack on her home had been more believable than this.

  “Vivian Featherstone?” The mother bear asked then, somehow raising one eyebrow, if bears have eyebrows. The emotion on her face now was all too clear, and strangely, all too human.

  “Yes…” She replied, her words slow and cautious, and her mind churning rapidly. “How do you…”

  “And he was a Greystone?” She asked then, cutting Vivian’s question short and jerking her massive head in the direction of the carcass of the man she had mutilated.

  “I think so…” Vivian answered. “My father said they were Greystones…”

  “They?” The mother bear asked then, pushing urgently for an explanation. “What happened?”

  “They attacked our home.” Vivian began. “Dozens of them. Maybe even a hundred. My father told me to run into the Redwoods and hide from them…”

  “And what of your mother and father?” The mother bear asked. “Where are Miranda and Dorian?”

  By this point Vivian no longer had the energy to be shocked by the mother bear’s seemingly inherent knowledge of her life, she simply answered the questions she was being asked.

  “They were killed…” Vivian replied, her voice dropping low and her head drooping. “Murdered…”

  There was silence for a moment before the mother bear spoke again.

  “I’m sorry.” Was all she said, and there was silence once again. A sob or two escaped Vivian’s grasp as she battled with her emotions.

  It was ten minutes or so before Vivian spoke again, having calmed her racing emotions a little. It seemed that both the mother bear and her cub understood the value of patience.

  “Who are you?” Vivian asked then, which seemed like a suitable question as an alternative for ‘Why can you talk?’

  “My name is Clover.” The mother bear said then, which Vivian found quite surprising for some reason. A gentle name for a gentle giant. “And this is my son, Red. We make our home here in the Redwoods.”

  “Hello.” The bear cub piped up then, and his voice sounded like that of a child’s: excited and energetic and high pitched.

  “He’s still getting used to his voice.” Clover explained. “He’s barely a week old.”

  Vivian nodded in response.

  “How do you know so much about my family?” She asked then.

  “Your family have protected the woodlands and the mountains for many generations now. The Featherstones are friends of the creatures who live here, for without your family, the Greystones, and undoubtedly some of the other families too, would surely have had us all butchered years ago.”

  “Why would they want to kill the animals?” Vivian asked.

  “Poaching, mostly.” Clover explained. “To sell our hides in the City and make money.”

  “You know about Virtus?” Vivian asked then.

  “Virtus?” Clover questioned.

  “Yes, sorry.” Vivian replied quickly. “That’s what I call the City.”

  “Doesn’t that mean power?” Clover asked then, her brow furrowing slightly, surprising Vivian greatly with her knowledge.

  “Yes.” Vivian replied, clearly shocked. “My father used to say the City was the virtus of the people…”

  “The People’s Power.” Clover finished for Vivian, her voice affectionate.

  “How do you…” Vivian began, but Clover cut her question short.

  “Not to worry my dear.” She assured Vivian. “It doesn’t matter now. I know all about your family Vivian. I knew your parents very well.”

  “How did you know them?” Vivian asked, clearly intrigued by the idea.

  “Your parents were the leading Lord and Lady at the House. They often came to the Redwoods to counsel with me.”

  “They came here?” Vivian questioned, astonished yet again, though at this rate she wasn’t sure why she was still surprised. “You counselled with my parents?”

  “They would come to ask me what was best for the forests and for the mountains and for the animals.”

  “So you spoke for the animals, and my parents spoke for you?” Vivian summed up. Clover laughed deeply then, and the sound was rich and warm and lovely to hear.

  “Yes, I suppose you could put it like that.” She replied, most pleased.

  Vivian didn’t speak for another minute or two then, and Clover could see that her exhausted mind was whirring over thoughts.

  “So that’s why you didn’t kill me?” Vivian asked suddenly then. “Because you knew I was a Featherstone?” Clover thought for a moment, her expression turning pensive, she looked up at the sky through the brief breaks in the canopy.

  “No…” She surmised finally. “I realise now that’s why I didn’t kill you. But at the time, I don’t know quite what stopped me. I just knew you weren’t a threat. You smell
like a Featherstone now, clearly, but your scent was mixed with his.” She explained, glancing across again at the massacred carcass sprawled out behind them. “But until I knew who you were, I wasn’t convinced you were a friend either…”

  “That makes sense.” Vivian conceded, understanding again that Clover’s protective paternal instinct was likely more than a little overwhelming. “You were just protecting Red…”

  “I know you’re a friend!” He chirped up then, bounding up and down on Vivian’s lap once more. He had been sat so still and so gently and so quietly that she’d almost forgotten that he was there.

  “Thank you, Red.” Vivian replied fondly, rubbing the back of his neck, making him almost squeal with delight. The immediate bond that formed between them was blindingly obvious, and it was a delight for Red’s mother to see.

  “Come Vivian.” Clover said then, turning around and heading back towards the mouth of her cave, her huge steps making almost no sound. “It’s much warmer inside.”

  “Are you sure?” Vivian asked, feeling as though she was imposing upon the bears’ privacy.

  “Of course.” Clover replied with utter certainty. “For my whole life your parents have protected me. Now it’s my turn to return the favour.”

  “What do you mean?” Vivian asked.

  “You’re part of our family now Viv!” Red replied merrily, leaping from Vivian’s lap, his young and unused voice squeaking and chirping. “We’ll protect you!”

  Clover looked back fondly at the two of them, her long, furry snout painted broadly with a big, joyful and affectionate smile, if bears are able to smile.

  5

  The following days turned into weeks, which quickly blurred into months, passing by in the blink of an eye for young Vivian Featherstone. She was mournful for the loss of her parents of course, but she had been thrown so fully into the lives of Clover and Red that every second of every day that she had seemed to be occupied.

  She was still too young to realise that that was indeed Clover’s intention, for with her strange and extensive knowledge and perception, she knew the dangers of depression and mourning. Keeping her new daughter busy, even if that just meant that Vivian and Red enjoyed each other’s company, was imperative. Clover continued to watch over the two of them as they played and grew together, and she was pleased with them both.

  Vivian was, as she had always been, full to bursting with observations and questions. She soon discovered that Clover had an incredible knowledge of most things, and the patience of a saint when it came to answering Vivian’s many queries.

  Her questions ranged greatly, from simple enquiries about different types of flowers and roots, to why sometimes the skies were clear and sometimes they were not, and even questions as far reaching as to query the history and meaning of life itself. The great red mother bear listened and answered the young girl entirely without complaint, for she too, once upon a time, had been just as curious herself.

  One day, on a particularly blustery but warm afternoon, Clover watched over Vivian and Red as they played together near a shallow stream, flowing quickly and sharply through the Redwood Forest. Clover had been hunting that morning, and they had travelled a little way from their den. Having stopped to rest, Clover saw Vivian’s head cock to one side for a moment as she examined something on the floor. Immediately she knew that her new young daughter’s curiosity had been sparked.

  Vivian couldn’t tell exactly what was hidden beneath the fallen leaves and undergrowth, for she could only see a part of it. It looked grey and shiny, and she leaned to examine it closer, peering warily at first from a distance.

  “Clover…” Vivian eventually began, stooping to pick up whatever it was she had found.

  “VIVIAN STOP!” Clover suddenly barked, her words sharp and commanding. Vivian froze instantly, not daring to move even an inch further.

  “What!?” She cried, confused. “What’s wrong!?”

  The young girl looked round, but Clover was already at her side, having covered the distance between them silently and as fast as the wind.

  “Move away.” Clover ordered then, and obediently, admittedly afraid, Vivian took several steps back.

  The great red mother bear lowered her vast head slowly and carefully, being very cautious, examining closely whatever it was Vivian had discovered.

  “What is it?” The young girl whispered, fearful even of raising her voice. Red crept up beside her and nuzzled his wet nose against Vivian’s hand. She rubbed the back of his neck affectionately, but only caught his gaze briefly, not daring to take her eyes from their mother.

  “There hasn’t been one of these in these parts of the Redwoods for generations…” Clover said, though whether she was actually talking to them, or just to herself, Vivian wasn’t sure.

  “One of what?” She asked carefully.

  Clover did not reply. Instead, she moved around the object, giving it a wide berth, and over to the nearest tree. From what Vivian could see, now the wind had rustled the leaves slightly, the thing was just a small piece of metal on the ground, a little square no wider than her own hand.

  Why was Clover so fearful of it? But Vivian didn’t need to ask, for what Clover did next gave her all the answer she desired.

  Lifting a large fallen branch from the floor in her jaws, the great mother bear carefully carried it over to the small metal plate on the floor, manoeuvring round the object slowly.

  “Keep back.” She warned Vivian and Red, mumbling the words through her gritted teeth.

  Instinctively they both took another few steps backward, but didn’t say anything. Without warning then Clover dropped the branch onto the metal plate and Vivian nearly jumped out of her skin as a deafening crack echoed all around.

  Ripping from beneath the loose soil, two enormous metal jaws wrenched upwards and clamped together with terrifying force. They didn’t just clamp around the branch, they shattered it altogether, biting down ferociously in a vice grip that looked wholly unbreakable.

  A pit in Vivian’s stomach warned her all too keenly as to how close she had come to being caught in that horrible trap. Had it been her leg or her arm trapped, she knew it wouldn’t have mattered, she would have likely died either way.

  “It’s a spring trap.” Clover said, stating the obvious somewhat. “This isn’t good. There haven’t been poachers here for a long time.” Vivian and Red said nothing, and their mother’s face was crossed with concern and anxious thought. “Watch where you step.” She instructed. “We’re going back to the den. If you ever see another one, or anything that you don’t think belongs here, don’t go near it, and tell me immediately.” She ordered, and they both knew she was right.

  Vivian and Red nodded vigorously, scanning the ground at their feet swiftly, now more than a little on edge. Fear had been struck in their hearts, and all of a sudden the world didn’t seem quite so carefree.

  “Let’s go.” Clover instructed, leading the way back home. And without another word, they left the trap far behind them, and didn’t return to that part of the woodlands again.

  Over time Vivian came to wonder just exactly how Clover knew of everything in so much detail. She seemed to have the answer to every question the young girl could possibly think of. But then as Red grew and began to mature, he too seemed to be able to answer her questions, and Vivian came to suspect that it was some kind of inherent knowledge that the red bears possessed.

  Her next question, naturally, was obvious.

  “Do all animals in the Redwoods know everything you know, Clover?” Vivian asked one day, as they were readying for a hunt.

  “Not everything I know, no.” Clover replied, somewhat vaguely and evasively. “And I couldn’t possibly know everything they know, for we have led different lives.”

  Vivian thought hard for a moment.

  “Then how do you know so much?” She finally asked, deciding to keep her queries simple. But it was not the enormous mother bear who answered, but instead her cub, Red.


  “It’s because of the Redwoods, isn’t it mother?” Red began. His voice was not as high pitched as it had been when Vivian had first met him, and he had grown considerably in size, though he still barely even came close to his mother’s shoulder.

  Clover nodded but said nothing, silently urging her son to continue.

  “When the forests were changed, many years ago, us bears were changed too…” He continued, racking his brain for knowledge he didn’t think he had. “We weren’t always red bears. And when everything did change, so did we, and we inherited the Redwood’s knowledge.”

  “The Redwood’s knowledge?” Vivian questioned.

  “I’m not sure Viv.” Red admitted then. “I haven’t learned that much yet…” He looked to his mother and she smiled, satisfied for now.

  “The knowledge of the Redwoods, as you can imagine, is vast and comprehensive. I’ve lived my life, Red will live his, you will live yours, but they have been here the whole time - before and after they were changed, for many hundreds, if not thousands of years. They don’t really count time in years the same way men do, so it’s difficult to say exactly how long they’ve been here…”

  Vivian thought again for a moment, attempting to understand everything she was being told, but before she could speak again, and undoubtedly ask another question, Clover rose to her feet, towering above them both.

  “Come.” She said very seriously then. “We must hunt.”

  Vivian could easily have argued that hunting in the Redwood Forest was certainly not the sort of activity a young girl should have been partaking in, nor a cub barely even three months old. But Clover’s knowledge was so extensive, and her every move always so planned and precise, that Vivian doubted that the powerful and protective mother even hunted like a normal bear.

  Whilst a predator might normally have an expert style of hunting that it would stick to, as Vivian went on more and more hunts with the red bears, she soon discovered that they simply adapted their approach to suit the prey that they found, meaning that, in turn, they were incredibly successful. Virtually every expedition reaped a kill, and so the three of them were well fed daily.