THE PEOPLE VS. THE S.C.o.B.

“Aren’t you tired of hiding out here, huddled in the lodge when we should be outdoors? It is like this every time they pass through our lands,” he growled, slamming his bowl onto the counter. “Don’t walk for too long, don’t take an afternoon family stroll. When you do, they’ll swoop in with land deeds, estate documents, and false testimony – anything they can levy against you from their legal system. Just you wait and see – they will create a subclass of us to serve their greed.”

A few others seated at the table offered gruff grunts of agreement and support while others listened attentively but stayed silent. This was the second night this week they were gathered in the lodge, one place they knew would be safe from prying eyes and ears. For the past three weeks, they gathered here – some to hide, others, to strategize – and all of them converting to the cause one by one.

Several of the younger converts stood guard at the door and, outside, some of the oldest and gruffest of the clan patrolled, alert, armed, and just a little bit afraid. In the snowy night, their coats kept them warm and they had safety in numbers. Yet, many of them had already lost to the unspeakable evils of this war of attrition. But they desperately clung to their will to protect their community and marched through the snow with their heads held high.

Inside, the stump speech continued.

“If it weren’t for us managing these lands as long as we have – keeping populations of deer and fish alive, clearing trees, managing hives – half of the commerce these capitalists rely on wouldn’t exist! We have been here for centuries, working alongside one another as equals. Even though we have very little, we are a great success because we work together. Yet, in a few short years, they’ve come in and divided us, taking over one settlement at a time in our wood.” He pushed his chair back roughly and slammed his fist against the table for effect. “I won’t put up with it any longer!”

This caused a great stir, an uproar that even caught the attention of those patrolling outside who paused momentarily to grunt in agreement even though they couldn’t hear everything that happened inside.

One of the youngest of them, standing watch by the door, stood up to object.

“But what about the new school? I was looking forward to learning how to read and write.” He put his head down at the last bit, almost ashamed he couldn’t do those things, even though there was an astonishing illiteracy rate in the community.

“What’s your name, son?” The speaker of the house was still standing; others sat down and began minding their bowls again. Very few would say so aloud but they, too, were curious about the offerings this hostile takeover might offer. Perhaps they would benefit… perhaps not. All sat quietly at attention.

“GRREEEUBear, sir.”

Some of the elders chuckled at the sound of the youngster’s accent; one approached and patted him firmly on the back; he stumbled forward a bit at the force. He would have turned red in the face if he wasn’t covered with fur.

“No, my kin. We mustn’t laugh - our accents are our history, our legacy. It’s what’s left of a culture being wiped out by these greedy humans.”

Some of the assembly nodded fervently while others growled and roared in agreement. Still, some were quiet and indecisive, including the mothers of young cubs toward the back of the lodge. It was dangerous for all of them to gather in this way; some of these bears had issues with aggression without the impending threat of humans.

“GRREEEUBear, I am GRROOUBear. It’s ‘Grover’ in the human tongue. That’s the kind of name they give you in their schools – a name that they can pronounce. A name that denies your Bear identity. Does Grover sound like a good name for a Bear to you?”

The cub lowered his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“And why not?” GRROOUBear probed.

“Well, for one, it doesn’t have Bear in it. And how Bear can a Bear be with no Bear in his name?”

The bears roared in agreement. GRROOUBear grinned to hear his father’s words echoed back him by the next generation.

“How Bear can a Bear be, indeed,” GRROOUBear continued, “Do you hear this, brothers, from their snouts to our ears. This is what we must remember about humans. They want us to be Bears, yes – but just Bear enough. Bear enough to make porridge just for them to steal the recipe and sell watered down mush across storefronts in the human hamlet. Bear enough to create unique seating, ideal cushions and chairs for Bears, just for them to say it’s not quite right, replicate the design in a smaller format, and sell a flat-pack version of our home furnishings, made of less dense materials. Bear enough to sleep quietly, peacefully, in our homes - just for them to break in when we aren’t there to ransack, thieve, and nap!”

“It’s unconscionable!” shouted one of the middle-aged Bears who was celebrated for her interjection.

“I will not be Bear enough for the humans, no. I will be Bear enough to claw my community, my safety – the assuredness of our forests – back from the human hands of the Gold and Locks corporation!” GRROOUBear was on top of the table now, slamming his large back paw down. He stood up on his hind legs, revealing his large leather pauldron and breastplate. He was one of the last Great Bears; his father was alive in the days when his neighbors’ homes were invaded by truant little girls with yellow hair and “pig tails” who sent woodsmen out to clean up their misdeeds. He vividly recalled the horror of returning home to his parent’s food half eaten – and his food gone entirely – their living room disheveled, and a small human girl asleep in his bed. The violation of the instance - someone occupying his home without permission - still haunted him.

Although his parents successfully chased that small girl away, it wasn’t the end. The one little girl brought more men into the world - men who stole, who chopped down houses, who killed the ancient wild women who stewarded the land alongside the Bears; the humans called the wild women “witches”, but the Bears knew better. It was a great loss when the wild woman who made sweets of their honey was baked to death in her own oven. GRROOUBear was prepared to fight; he knew the horror humanity wrought firsthand. It was not only hatred or fear that drove him - but it was also vengeance and retribution. To protect the wood and community he loved, he knew he would need to stir his clan to action.

“We are but one generation away from good Bears, kind Bears like GRREEEUBear growing up to know Gold and Locks - and ONLY Gold and Locks. Their porridge, their chairs, their studio and mid-sized apartments. And it won’t end there. We, the Socialist Coalition of Bears have much more to lose. We will lose our precious cubs to their schools - their way of life. And how long will it be until they mount our heads on their walls as they do the stag?”

This was the inspiration the clan needed. The idea of their offspring mounted on the wall for a human to admire fanned the embers of a smouldering fire into a roaring flame. The Bears grunted and whipped one another up into a frenzy, pushing the mother Bears and their cubs further into the back of the lodge.

“Tonight! Tonight is when we reclaim our home. Tonight - we take back the wood!”

Just then, a gust of cold wind entered the hall and one of the elder Bears from patrol rushed in with an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. She charged to the front, bewildered, her eyes set on GRROOUBear.

“They’re coming! They’re here! The Gold and Locks warriors are in our lands,” she groaned as she collapsed to the ground.

GRROOUBear pushed past the crowd and stood at the door to see the settlement in flames, the silhouette of a human woman standing in the middle of the path.

“Hello, Grover. Remember me?”

GRROOUBear growled. All the careful planning for the next attack, the ideas the S.C.o.B. organized in case of emergency – all of it flew out of his mind. He was bloodthirsty – and he usually preferred a warm cup of tea.

With a roar loud enough to reach the ears of the furthest Bears on patrol, he yelled, “CHARGE!” and a troupe of bears about twelve times its normal size emerged from the wood, barreling down the hill behind the woman. Woodsmen, previously hidden behind bushes, leapt out with arrows ablaze and let fly, toppling more Bears than either side could pause to count; several of the men that didn’t hide quite so well were clawed and pawed and chewed to death. The battle ensued all around them GRROOUBear didn’t care – he was on her now, the human girl who tricked him once into leaving his home with his parents only to pillage one of the few things that he fought to have back – his self-respect.

The woman’s sword flashed quickly and brilliantly, cutting through his breastplate and across his face. It happened so fast – but GRROOUBear knew it would mean defeat. He called out in Bearish for a retreat – and the Bears fled.

“This won’t be the end, Gold and Locks,” he panted, backing away from her slowly, “it is just the beginning for the Bear.”

“Oh, Grover,” she chuckled, her pigtails much longer, her muscles much firmer, her cape and hood blowing in the wind. “Silly, ignorant, Bear. You never could speak human very well.”

GRROOUBear panted, making note of the pool of blood beneath him. He heard his escape plan hurtling down the hill – a boulder the clan secured as a last resort – and she hadn’t noticed. He’d play along to stall. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Goldilocks, you idiot,” she snarled as she lifted her sword over her head.

“Oh,” GRROOUBear smiled, weakly, “then we both didn’t understand one other.” The boulder was very close now. “It’s not Grover, but GRROOUBear. Idiot.” He bolted to the left and ran as hard and fast as he could as the massive stone swept past, instantly demolishing several men and taking out Goldilock’s arm. She screamed but, it didn’t matter – GRROOUBear was long gone.

The battle may have been brief – and a draw – but information was power. As the hamlet burned, the Bears moved further north to the care and shelter of their cousins to warn them of what was coming. Goldilocks returned to the humans and continued to sell mediocre goods.

And the war rages on.

THE END