Honey Shroom's Arc

Chapter 8 of 11

Honey Shroom stayed at the trench's edge, eyes on the brush where the serpent had slipped away. His hand still rested on the pail lid. The hives hummed behind the wire. He knew the snake would come back. He was already turning the problem over in his head when boots scuffed the grass at the far side of the meadow. A figure stood at the tree line, weathered and dust-streaked, one hand raised. The stranger called across the field that the serpent was not the only thing hunting here, and that they had proof. Honey Shroom waved them forward but kept one hand near the whistle. The traveler crossed slow, limping. Behind them, a faded canvas tent sagged between two trees, marking where they had camped. They knelt and set down a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Inside was a bear cub, shaking, one paw matted with dried blood. The traveler said they had found it near a clawed-up patch of earth on the far slope, alone and crying. Honey Shroom studied the cub, then the meadow. Claw marks. A missing mother. He understood. A grown bear was working the edges of his land, drawn by the same broken ground that had stirred the serpent. The traveler said they had seen her tracks circling the meadow twice already. Honey Shroom thanked them and lifted the cub gently against his coat. He carried the cub to the shade by the hives and set fresh water beside it. The serpent still waited below. Now a mother bear paced somewhere in the trees, searching. His meadow had two hunters now, not one. He tightened his coat, faced the trench, and began planning for both.