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Daphne wandered aimlessly, looking around her as every step carried her more and more deeply into the forest, hands trailing on tree trunks, pinching off the occasional leaf after a quick visual inspection confirmed it was non-noxious. The smells of the velvety-soft evening filled her nose, calming something she hadn’t quite known was coiled tightly inside of her, relieving some stress she hadn’t realized she bore. Every step into the woods seemed to drag more of the weight off her shoulders, lightening her feet, making her hands wander more carelessly over the plants that caught her eye.
She had taken the job in Green Tree on an almost-whim; there was nothing for her in her hometown, hundreds of miles south of the little logging town, ever since her fiancé had been abruptly wrenched out of her life in a chance, tragic accident. He had been driving from his little college town to meet her, when a semi-truck had overturned onto his fragile, lightweight sedan, crushing it to almost nothing, and killing him nearly instantly. When Daphne had gotten the phone call, it had felt as if she herself was being crushed, as if the walls of her apartment had come tumbling down onto her. After she had done what she knew was required of her: attending the funeral, putting her lover to rest, discarding the wedding dress and the other items she had already started bringing together, Daphne had decided that she needed to get away. Not just from her apartment, full of memories with Aaron, but out of her town altogether—as far as a decent job opportunity would take her. When she found the job posting for an administrative assistant in a logging company, she had immediately submitted her resume, and had eagerly driven up for her interview, accepting the position the moment it was offered.
Now that the dust had settled, now that she was slowly building a routine—getting up early enough to get in a little exercise, taking a shower, going to work, coming home—Daphne felt a deep, gnawing kind of hunger. She hadn’t given much thought to forming any friendships within the small, tight-knit community, but she felt lonely. She needed to be out of her lonely, empty-feeling house at the corner of the town, she needed to wander, and clear out her mind. Daphne had been warned that there were both wolves and bears in the forest, but in spite of the danger she knew was present, she couldn’t resist the draw of the expanding, oddly welcoming woods, less than a mile away from where her home sat.
Daphne paused, not quite certain of what precisely had made her steps come to a stop. Breathing in deeply, she caught an unmistakably musky smell—a wild animal smell, clean but earthy—and a spurt of something like fear flowed through her. Whatever kind of animal she smelled, it had to be big; Daphne doubted that a rabbit or a weasel would put off such a strong scent. She licked her lips, thinking. She had tucked a can of bear-mace in her pocket as a basic precaution before leaving the house, but she hoped—she prayed silently to herself—that she wouldn’t have to use it. Most bears, she remembered, were generally fairly peaceful; grizzlies would kill a person as soon as they looked at them, but if she did stumble upon any of the other species, she could possibly carefully back away, imitating submissive behavior, and get out intact, without having to give the poor thing chemical burns to the face.
She took a deep breath and decided to risk it; wolves, she thought, would be barking, or howling—something—in response to her presence. And maybe, she considered hopefully, it was a deer, something like that. Just because the animal was big, didn’t mean it had to be an omnivore or carnivore.
Daphne stepped forward, making her way towards a clearing she could barely make out through the silvery moonlight that shone down in dappled flecks, filtered by the branches and leaves overhead. Somehow, a clearing seemed safer. A clearing would give her the chance to see any approaching animals, take evasive action by climbing a tree before they could reach her. There are animals that can climb trees. Animals that live in trees. Daphne pushed the thought aside; it wasn’t very helpful. She strode forward, keeping her ears as alert as possible to any movement she might be able to hear, occasionally sniffing to catch that elusive animal trace that had alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t quite alone in the depths of the forest.
Stepping through a tangled veil of overgrown vines, Daphne’s foot crunched on dead leaves and then rustled faintly as she came onto the grass. She took a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh as relief flowed through her. She glanced around, appreciating the island of light and calm in the otherwise busy nocturnal life of the woods. She had begun to sink down onto a conveniently placed, flat rock when she heard rustling a few feet away. The sound was followed by a chuffing, slightly stuttering growl, and she was on her feet once more.
Before she could even think of finding a tree to climb into, a pair of bears—huge, to her night-frightened eyes—emerged from the tree line, communicating to each other in trills, barks, and growls. They came to a stop just a few steps away from the edge of the woods, barely in the clearing, and seemed to both look up at her at the same time, staring at her watchfully with soulful, yellow eyes. Somehow—though Daphne couldn’t say how or why—she started to feel her fear ebbing away. There was something like recognition in their body language; there was almost a sense of gentleness. “Hey, boys,” Daphne said, her gaze flicking down to catch sight of their genitals as the two bears stood upright on their hind legs. “I’m sorry I interrupted your foraging.” She smiled, trying to project a nonthreatening demeanor. “I’ll go away, if you want. Do you want that?” One of the two bears looked straight at her and let out a low, querying trill. The other barked an almost-question at the first bear.
This is getting stranger by the moment, Daphne thought, staring watchfully at the two bears. She couldn’t just run away; if she did that, they might take it as a reason to run after her. She had to carefully, slowly, back off. She had to somehow make sure she didn’t resemble either prey or threat. Daphne’s heart beat faster. Oh great, now they’ll smell my fear. That won’t mark me as prey, not at all.
And yet, neither of the two bears gave a signal that they were about to pursue her. They simply watched her curiously, tilting their head this way and that, murmuring low bear-like questions to each other. Fascinated, almost hypnotized, Daphne felt as though she was frozen in place, watching them watching her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked quietly, knowing that desperation tinged her voice, but unable to think of anything else to do.