There was a Bear who lived not in the forest—but in the border between shadow and flame.
He was not feared for his roar, nor admired for his strength. He was respected for one thing:
He did not run from the fire.
Others saw fire and fled. They feared what it would burn.
But Bear? He walked into it.
Not to fight it.
Not to conquer it.
But to listen.
For the fire that burned outside was only a mirror—of the fire within.
Inside the blaze, Bear saw the faces of his anger, his grief, his fear.
And instead of turning away, he sat with them.
He whispered:
“You do not own me.
You only remind me... I am still alive.”
And when he returned, his fur smelled of smoke, but his eyes burned with clarity.
Since then, when a soul is lost, wandering through rage or sorrow, the Elders say:
“Call on Bear. He walks with those brave enough to face their own fire.”
.
