The Making of the Bear
By Ramon Gutherie Perhaps for fear of saying to oneself, — it is not good to plan such things too long. No question others had more craft than I. I had waited for the Old One to give the sign to one of us, half hoping still his choice might fall on me. But lately he had turned to graving stags and reindeer on bits of antler, art that for all his pains my clumsy fingers could never seem to master. In any case, his choice for cavern walls ran to pregnant cows, bison and ponies. That, and more and more he favored places not too hard to get at. "What's the harm in having good work seen?" Meanwhile the first full moon of spring was near. I can't say why I chose the cave I did. Passing that way one day, I'd seen it and taken it for a badger's hole until I saw an owl rise from it and listening close, caught the voices of water. I set out before dawn and took along well-scorched moss and tallow, stone lamp, firestick in a dee...