Black Bear – The Pause Between Footfalls

Black Bear – The Pause Between Footfalls

The park sits on the edge of the city, where sidewalks end and trees begin. You step past the last trash bin and into brambles that don’t care for tourists. The air smells sharper here—sap, damp moss, something wild.

The medallion is wedged into a stone at the trail’s bend. You touch it.

“Don’t scream.”

The voice rumbles behind you, deep and gravelly. You turn slowly.

There’s a black bear.

A real, hulking black bear, just twenty feet away, lounging like a boulder with opinions.

Your feet refuse to move.

He huffs. “If you’re gonna panic, at least do it quietly.”

You blink. “You’re a bear.”

“Well spotted,” he says, deadpan. “And you’re a human. One of those fast-walking, loud-breathing, squirrel-startling ones.”

“I didn’t mean to startle—”

“You always mean to get somewhere,” he interrupts, shifting his weight. “But never here. Never now.”

He squints at you, unimpressed. “So. You touched it.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

He grunts. “Figures. They always find the twitchiest ones first.”

Still frozen, you manage, “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you’re listening.” He eyes the medallion. “Or at least, you are now.”

You take a breath. “Where do you think the medallions came from?”

The bear scratches his ear with great consideration. “Maybe they dropped from the aurora like acorns from the sky. Maybe they grew here, like mushrooms waiting for the right moon.”

He leans forward slightly. “Or maybe the world just got tired of your kind hurrying past and left breadcrumbs.”

You shift nervously. “I met a squirrel—Reginald?”

“Featherstone the Fourth,” the bear mutters. “Talks like he swallowed an encyclopedia and never digested it.”

“He said I have to find them all.”

“Typical squirrel talk. Always chasing more.” The bear sighs. “You don’t need all. You just need enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Still figuring that out.” He shrugs. “Ask the elk if you find him. He thinks he knows everything. He also thinks moss makes a good hat.”

He stands, towering and massive, but his eyes are calm.

“Go on,” he says. “You’ve got more listening to do.”

Then he turns and vanishes into the trees like a shadow swallowed by green.

You stay still for a long while, letting the quiet wrap around you, softer than you expected.