Bearskin, Part Four
Bearskin, Part One
Bearskin, Part Two
Bearskin, Part Three
When Kocoum pushed him aside with his foot and shut the door in his face, Thomas knew that he had to try harder. Pawing at the window didn’t help; Kocoum would just glare at him before closing the curtains. He even had the audacity to ignore his scratching at the door. Couldn’t he at least take pity on how pathetic it was? He’d already wasted half the day getting stuck in that trap, and the first person he came into contact with (stony Kocoum, just his luck!) wanted very little to do with him. He could at least give him something to eat. Hell, even when he was still human, Kocoum would either subject him to one of his infamous glares or lecture him on something that he already knew, or that didn’t apply to him. And it wasn’t like Thomas could tell him he didn’t need to be informed because he shrunk at the merest hint of dissatisfaction from him. Even John chose his words carefully when around Kocoum. The only people who didn’t fear him were Pocahontas and Nakoma, and only because they knew him since childhood.
He wondered if he should try finding John's cabin. The cabins were relatively close to one another, and in this form he shouldn't have any trouble making his way across the snow or freezing along the way. And John was fairly decent with animals, if Pocahontas' attraction to him proved anything. Thomas lost count of the number of times when, dropping by for a visit, would find the pair tending to a sparrow's broken wing, or rescuing foxes from snares placed in the forest nearby, or feeding the deer that liked to hang around the community (it really wasn't like they were doing any harm; none of the residents were legally permitted to shoot the animals, and they tended to bolt if anyone other than Pocahontas or John approached them). But just because John held an affinity towards small, furry woodland creatures did not mean he cared for bears on the same level. In fact, that was the sole reason why he decided to go on this trip.
Instead, Thomas chose to shuffle back and forth on the cabin's deck, hoping that either he could come up with a plan or the noise would irritate Kocoum enough to open the door. This whole "game" would've been a lot easier if he was a full-sized bear and not...this. Then he could just knock the door down. But that would be going against the witch's "rules," wouldn't it? And furthermore, Kocoum could shoot the tail feathers off of a bird without killing the animal, and with one eye closed at that.
Grumbling, Thomas rose to his hind legs and leaned his weight against the door as he jiggled the handle with his fore paw. As annoying as it was, walking around on four feet was a lot easier in this form than on two. Locked. He sat down and banged his head against the door, trying to beat a solution to his problem out of it.
“You’re terrible at this game,” Moaned a feminine voice behind him. “Absolutely awful.”
Thomas turned around and glowered at the woman behind him. She sat perched upon the railing, threading long, slender fingers through the bone-straight masses of hair covering her. Either her hair was a lot thicker than it appeared, or she was plumb crazy. And you’re an absolute pain in my ass. Thomas growled. He moved away from her towards the snow, with the intention of finding some way into the house.
“Now that’s just mean.” She said. The spirit leapt off the railing and began to follow Thomas around the cabin. “Just because you’re bad at this sort of thing doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”
If I hadn’t run into you I wouldn’t be in this mess!
“True. You’d probably be frozen or half-eaten by now. But either way really dead, so you’re welcome.” She crouched in front of Thomas and grabbed at his belly. “You don’t eat much, do you?”
Thomas could feel her jabbing at one of his ribs. Already skinny enough in his human form, Thomas dared that as a bear, he looked either starved or came down with mange. Either way it didn't make him "adorable" by any standards. To make matters worse, he hadn't eaten since the night he left John's cabin, still nursing the shock of getting lost in the snow and transforming into... this.
"He's rather cute, you know." The spirit drawled as she ran a hand through his fur, earning a snort. While Thomas admitted that Kocoum was fairly easy on the eyes, his personality or rather lack there of dashed all prospects of developing a relationship with him. Whenever Pocahontas' cousin wasn't glaring at him for numerous reasons--being skinny, being weak, being in the same room with him on the wrong day--he was lecturing him on eating more, lifting weights, or whatever else he thought would put meat on his bones. He simply refused to believe that Thomas didn't have the genetics for brawniness.
Thomas scooted away from her. Go away.
She followed. "Sore sport." She circled around him on all fours, examining him up and down. Finally she rose to her feet, hands akimbo and a playful smile about her lips. "I should teach you to hunt. Then you won't be so hungry."
I'd rather you change me back.
"But then we couldn't play anymore. And if you don't get something in you soon, you'll be dead. And humans aren't very fun when they’re dead." Her form grew smaller, furrier, whiter, and Thomas found himself looking down at a twitchy white rabbit.
She sniffed at the air and batted at Thomas' paw with her own. Thomas snorted and trotted away from her, towards the cabin. He did not have time for this. The spirit ran in front of him and batted at him again, this time harder and more insistent. She began to run in circles around Thomas, darting this way and that and blocking any chance of escape. If you can catch me, I'll let you go. But no biting. That wouldn't be fun at all.
Thomas groaned. He really, really didn't have time for this.
####
When the pawing at the door finally stopped, Kocoum wondered if he should check outside to see if the bear had finally left. Perhaps it did have a mother, and it finally ambled along and retrieved it. Or maybe it burrowed itself underneath the cabin. Or maybe it got itself caught in something again. After waffling on the matter a good deal, Kocoum sighed and rose from the table, pulled on his coat and stepped outside. It was more than likely the third possibility.
Instead, he found the bear sitting in the snow, glowering at the rabbit dashing around in front of it. The bear made no move to chase the rabbit; instead it seemed set on avoiding it. Whenever the bear moved opposite of it, the rabbit would throw itself into the same direction. From the looks of things, it seemed that the rabbit was chasing the bear.
There was no doubt about it. Even an animal with half a brain would give chase to a prey that suicidal. The cub was someone’s abandoned pet, armed with nothing but a preference for handouts and a library of inane tricks. They probably drove to the mountain over the weekend and left it here once they were caught keeping a bear without a license. No matter how it began or what it involved, the story always ended the same: a helpless, confused animal dying from starvation in the middle of nowhere. And from the way the fur practically hung off the bear, Kocoum judged that starvation wasn’t far off.
Sighing, Kocoum went back inside his cabin and found the deer meat at the bottom of the fridge. He was planning on cooking it that night anyway, and had more than enough to spare. He sliced off a sizable hunk and carried it outside, careful not to track blood from the small kitchen to the door.
Once outside, the woodsman made a short, clucking noise to draw the bear’s attention. The bear looked up. It barked at him, then cocked its head towards the rabbit, now sitting and boring its beady red eyes at him. Kocoum made the sound again and waved the meat around a bit, having no intention of leaving the cabin porch. He was determined to make that bear work, even if a little. The bear turned to the rabbit and made a whiffling noise before trotting towards the cabin. Definitely trained, Kocoum thought. Any animal with an ounce of instinct would’ve been wary.
The bear stopped right at Kocoum’s feet and sniffed at the meat. It stared at him questioningly, snorting before taking a step back and sitting down. Keeping back a frustrated sigh, Kocoum offered the meat again, only to earn a gruff bark and ears flattened against the head. The bear covered its nose with its paw and looked at the ground.
Definitely trained. And pampered.
Grumbling, Kocoum went back inside the house and to the kitchen. He fished around for a skillet and proceeded to cook the deer until it was at least no longer pink on the outside. Once finished, he carried the pan outside and dumped its contents in front of the bear, out on the snow. The cub flinched, then sniffed at the freshly cooked deer meat before it.
Kocoum swore the bear glowered at him for a good minute before eating. At first, the bear tried picking the meat up in its paws. When that didn’t work, it resigned to eating it off the ground. It didn’t scarf the meat down like most animals; it took its time, taking small bites and chewing as thoughtfully as it could. Once it finished, the bear walked up to him and, after hesitating, butted its head against his calve.
Kocoum didn’t question the bear’s behavior. It probably saw its previous owner’s cat doing something similar and learned to emulate it. Instead, he crouched down and scratched the bear behind the ear. The bear stiffened, then bumped its head against his hand, making low purring-like noises before making a gruff sound and moving away, suddenly finding its paws far more interesting to look at.
Kocoum would’ve nearly laughed if it cell phone hadn’t started ringing. One look at the Caller ID dashed all his amusement. John.
While Kocoum could safely say that he didn’t hate Pocahontas’ husband, he couldn’t say he liked him either. Standing up, he answered the call.
“Kocoum?” John’s voice was clear over the line, and if Kocoum was correct, wavered a little? “Kocoum! It’s John... Have you seen Thomas?”
Kocoum’s face hardened. “He went camping with you.” John had succumbed to Thomas’ pestering and let him go hunting with him with a few of his friends from work. Before they left, Kocoum had given Thomas a crash-course in wilderness survival, as he doubted the young man could survive out in the woods on his own for longer than five minutes. Judging from the sound of John’s voice, his assumptions were correct. He already began moving towards his truck.
“One of the guys egged him on the night before,” John explained half-heartedly. “And said that he couldn’t even get firewood. Apparently Tommy took him up on it.”
“And you let him go?”
John paused before responding. “I was a little... preoccupied at the time.” Probably on the phone with Pocahontas.
“Stay there.” Kocoum ended the call and began to drive down the mountain, towards John’s cabin. Hopefully he would have more information once he arrived, good or no.
He didn’t notice the bear staring at him down the road.