Dreams and memories flowed through Bernard's mind as he lay curled up in his den. Visions of his father's death plagued him, accompanied by the outraged bellows of the mother bear and the terror-stricken cries of her cubs. The echoes of their fear rippled through all of Bernard's other nightmares.

Out of all of Bernard's numerous nightmares, one particular experience recurred more than any other until it felt like the ghost of a memory. No matter how many times he experienced it, that dream always left him longing to run into his mother's embrace. That nightmare never failed to grip his heart with ice-cold fingers of loneliness, squeezing and squeezing until any sense of hope was completely crushed.

The nightmare started off the same way tonight as it had every other time: two bear cubs romped through the underbrush while their mother watched them from the corner of her eye. Bernard, invariably seeing everything from the perspective of the larger of the two cubs, watched the smaller, more agile cub run up to his brother and smack him on the nose, giggling as he dashed out of his brother's reach.

"You can't catch me, moose breath!" said the smaller cub.

Bernard's – no, the cub's – claws dug into the ground as the mother bear chuckled. He glared at her over his shoulder. "Are you going to let him get away with that?" she asked.

"No way!" he said.

"You should teach him a lesson, then," she said.

The cub flexed his legs.

"Remember," his mother continued, "brothers don't draw blood."

"Yeah, yeah."

The mother bear cleared her throat, turned toward him, and nudged him with her nose.

"Yes, Mom."

As soon as his mother looked away from him, he dashed after his brother. The pair ran through the bushes, giggling as they sent leaves flying. The smaller cub turned to face his pursuer, slapping the ground with his paw in a mock threat display.

"I've got you now," said his playmate, growling playfully before launching himself forward.

He crashed into his brother, sending both of them tumbling through piles of fallen leaves. Dirt caked his fur, making his skin itch. Landing on top of his brother, he gently took his ear between his teeth. "Gotcha!" he mumbled around the ear before giving it a small shake.

Twigs snapped nearby. The cubs' fur stood on end. Bernard silently prayed for the source of the sound to leave, but nothing could change the nightmare.

The mother bear's head swayed back and forth as she checked the area for scents. Her eyes widened as Bernard registered a mixture of familiar smells: coffee, sweat, and bacon. "Cubs, go up a tree." Bernard watched through the larger cub's eyes as the bear below him trembled with fear, whimpering. "Now!"

The cubs scrambled up the nearest tree, climbing so high that the thin branches beneath them swayed with each step they took. Blissfully unaware of the nervous grizzlies, a pair of rangers and two campers emerged. Unable to change where the cub was looking, Bernard was forced to watch as the rangers' lecture on the importance of using the designated hiking trails was interrupted by the mother bear's warning growl as they drew closer to the tree where the cubs were hiding.

The humans jumped at the sound. The younger of the two rangers yelped and reached for his gun.

"Don't," Bernard's father whispered as he positioned himself between the bear and the humans.

"But she might-"

"No buts. She's protecting her cubs. She'll leave us alone once she stops seeing us as a threat."

"Hey!" said the male camper. "We were just going for a hike. Why in the world would she think we'd hurt her cubs? We aren't stupid!"

Bernard cringed inwardly. How many times had he seen this happen? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? It didn't matter. He couldn't change what happened.

He watched helplessly from the perspective of a little fuzzball with his arms hugging a thin branch and his fur being torn at by the wind as the adult grizzly bared her fangs at the noisy camper. The humans backed away, but the bear still reared up and screamed, "Go away! Leave my cubs alone!"

"Dang it, Ben!" yelled the female camper. "Are you trying to make her attack us?"

"Stop yelling! This stupid trip wasn't my idea."

The pair kept arguing as the rangers made frantic shushing gestures. Birds shrieked overhead, adding to the cacophony. The cubs trembled. Bernard's cub shrieked as his claws slipped. "Mom!" he screamed as he dangled from the branch, his hind paws flailing in the air.

The mother bear charged forward with a deafening roar.

The humans scattered like ants fleeing from a crushed anthill. Bernard's view of the resulting chaos was restricted to the tiniest of slivers as the cub regained his grip on the branch, inched toward the thicker end, and rammed its face into the reassuringly sturdy tree trunk.

The campers' screaming grew in volume until Bernard could barely stand it, but he still heard the moment that would change his life forever as clearly as if he was standing next to his father.

"I'll distract her. Get out of here!" While the other ranger rushed away from the bears with the campers following his lead, Bernard's father stood his ground and yelled at the mother bear. His voice shook as the mother bear's growls grew louder.

"I told you to leave," said the mother bear. "I won't let you hurt my cubs!" She bellowed as she charged forward.

The coppery odor of blood filled the air along with the sound of claws ripping through fabric and a wordless cry of pain. The cub turned his head and watched his mother maul the ranger out of the corner of his eye. Her body blocked most what was left of Bernard's father from view once she was done with him.

At their mother's signal, the cubs descended from the tree. "We have to go," she said.

"Why?" said the smaller cub as he sniffed the air. "Their scent is already fading."

"I'm glad you're getting better at tracking scents, Hinrik, but that scent will be strong again soon. They'll be back." She nudged her cubs forward with her snout. "Run. I'll keep them busy."

The larger cub clawed at the ground and bared his teeth. "They're just dumb humans. I can fight them."

"No!" The mother bear roared. Her cubs cringed, but she did not lower her voice as she continued, "I will not allow you to get yourself killed. Run and hide! And don't you dare leave your hiding spot until I come get you."

His mother's command rang in his ears as he and the other cub fled. The pair rushed through the undergrowth until they reached a thorny thicket and dove inside. He cowered next to the other cub, too scared to even whimper as he waited for the signal that all was safe once more.

Yells tore through the forest as the men returned. A thunderous noise cracked out, followed by a wail of pain.

The forest was silent.

The cubs waited. The humans' scent faded into nothingness, but their mother never came to get them. Bernard could only watch as the cubs eventually started searching for their mother. All they managed to find was a cold mass of fur and the pitiless pang of starvation. As the dream cub's life was brought to an end next to his brother's body, Bernard's grief and sorrow sent him springing awake, wailing, "Mom!"

Bernard's head smacked against the roof of the cave. Breathing heavily, he cautiously lifted a paw to his aching head. There was a bit of a bump but it wasn't serious. He could have sworn the cave hadn't been this cramped before. It was almost as full as his stomach was empty.

Stones scraped Bernard's sides as he made his way out of the den. He squinted against the sunlight that assaulted his eyes. Warmth surged through his muscles, banishing any leftover stiffness from the months he had spent hibernating.

The world had come back to life while Bernard slept. Not a single flake of snow remained on the ground. Vibrantly green blades of grass waved in the breeze as flowers lifted their heads to face the sky. Birdsong filled the air with joy and promises of a brighter future.

The breathtaking scene in front of Bernard was interrupted by a low gurgling noise and a pang in his stomach.

Bernard glanced at his side. Wincing at the ribs that were visible beneath his fur, he set off in search of food. There would be plenty of time to relax and observe the beauty of the season once he wasn't starving.