Passing through the woods on a snowy evening

Whose woods these are, I think I know. His house is in the village, though. He will not see me lying here, and watch his woods fill up with snow. At least not for another few days. I usually take the long way because I like to listen to the birds sing. But the snow is unrelenting, and the road is long. When I decided to pass through these woods, I didn’t realize that I was not alone.

I can see the bear out of the corner of my eye. Maybe yesterday, I would have been terrified. But today, he does not appear frightening to me. He looks hesitant. I think he is suspicious that I may be bait for him. On his face, I see fear and a strange sense of calm, like I am seeing my own face reflected back. He must think it queer to find me lying here, between the woods and the frozen lake. It’s the darkest evening of the year.

I don’t have the strength left in me to turn around and look at him directly. Everything hurts and it’s cold, it feels so cold. The snow falls heavily. It burns my skin. The bruises on my body scream in agony, as if to remind me of their presence. Somehow, the snow does not feel cold on my skin. But each breath I take feels heavy, and so… cold.

Perhaps I deserved this. Perhaps I should have taken the long road. Or perhaps I was not wearing enough clothes. I can see them around me, my long dress and my winter jacket. They are scattered, torn, and bloody.

The jacket was made from wool and fur. He gifted it to me last winter. I remember, he once asked me if I would rather be alone in a forest with a man or a bear. I told him that I was afraid of bears. That they are vicious predators and I would rather be alone with a man who would make me feel safe and protected, like he does. Like he did.

I can see the bear approaching me. He might no longer be scared. I am not scared either. He marches towards me, slowly, like he is still being cautious, or maybe he just wants me to marinade in fear. His teeth are blunt, the opposite of a butcher’s knife, the opposite of quick and painless. His footsteps feel denser and louder as he gets closer. But I still feel no fear. I feel a strange sense of calm. Peace, composure, and serenity. He is just a hungry animal, alone in the cold, and looking for a meal to survive. He is not vicious or a monster. He doesn’t have a choice. The predator had a choice. And he has already left.

I hear him let out a huff and a growl. The only other sound is the sweep of easy wind and downy flake. My eyes feel heavy. I might rest them for a while. I would have liked to continue my journey if I could. These woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep. And I have miles to go before I sleep.

I had miles to go before I sleep.