certain, O Bear, that this is safe to eat?”
“ Whuff. ”
Camille took a small nibble and gasped, “Oh, my. How delicious.” She took another small bite, her eyes watering in joy.
Her face suddenly blossomed with enlightenment. “Oh, Bear, I think Fra Galanni spoke of these. This is a truffle, right?”
“ Whuff. ”
She broke the truffle in two, and gave the larger portion to the Bear.
“Fra Galanni named this the food of the gods, and now I see that he spoke true. He told me that a truffle’s ‘character’ is somewhat like that of garlic laid over a penetrating earthiness, combined with a pungent sensation like a whiff of strong wine. Of course, I never knew what he was talking about, for, though I had eaten wild garlic, I had never had a strong, pungent wine, or wine of any kind, or aught I could say had an earthy taste, whatever that might mean. Yet now I suppose I know what he meant-these flavors in combination-though for the individual things he cited, but for garlic, I still have no idea of their essence.”
With a snap and a gulp, the Bear’s portion was gone, but Camille savored hers to the last, the Bear looking on somewhat avidly as she ate it in small bites. She cocked an eye at him. “If you want more, O Bear, I suggest you dig up another.”
The Bear groaned and looked back at the tree, but made no move to comply. After a moment, he went downstream to a pool, and shortly had a fish to eat. Even so, now and again, he glanced up as if asking, “Are you going to finish all of that?”
They rested awhile, but then the Bear stood and whuff ed.
“Oh, is it time to go on? But it is so peaceful here.”
The Bear rumbled low in his chest.
“All right, all right, O Bear, but first-” She stepped into the bracken to relieve herself, the Bear standing guard and looking everywhere but toward her. Camille then trod to the stream and washed her hands, and, after taking another deep drink, she once again mounted up.
Onward through the wondrous springtime woods they went, the midnight-black Bear and his slender rider Camille, and everywhere he bore her were marvels to delight the senses-birds singing, iridescent insects winging, the scent of loam and flowers and other growing things drifting on the air, the mild wafts caressing the skin. And Camille reveled in all.
“O Bear,” she said, laughing gaily, “to think how I did dread coming into this place, for many are the tales of monsters and of peril dire, and yet I deem herein are no monsters, no peril; I think ’tis but a rumor fostered by the Fey Folk to hold us Humans at bay, else we would o’errun the-”
But the Bear roared at these words, as if protesting their untruth. And crying in fright, birds fled into the sky, and only the soft hum of an insect or two and a trickle of water broke the stillness left behind.
“Oh, my,” whispered Camille, her heart racing at the thunderous outburst. “Mayhap I am wrong after all.”
She rode in silence for a while. But then-“Is it that there is peril herein after all?”
“ Whuff. ”
“Monsters?”
“ Whuff. ”
At these answers, Camille’s eyes widened in apprehension, and she looked about the splendid forest, seeking… seeking… she knew not what.
Onward they went, Camille somewhat on edge, for a nagging disquiet clutched at her heart. And now and again movement flickered in the corners of her eyes, yet when she jerked about to look, it seemed nothing was there. Birds perhaps, or small, running things. Oh, Bear, why did you have to bring me such ill news?
The sun continued to slip down the sky, and but for the fact that she rode through Faery on the back of a great black Bear within an enchanted forest, the day seemed normal to Camille, though far in the distance all ’round, twilight graced the land.
The sun set and dusk came, and, in the nearness to the fore, Camille could see a small flicker of fire. Toward this glow the Bear trod. As they moved among the trees, Camille thought she detected the patter of small feet running lightly alongside. A bit of an animal hieing nigh, I suppose. Wait, it seems there’s more than one. And-What was that? A giggle? Was that a giggle? Camille listened intently and peered into the evening shadows. Yet she saw only darkness, and the sound was not repeated, and the footsteps pattered away.
They came to a wee glade in which a small campfire burned within a ring of stones. Spitted above the flames, a brace of rabbits cooked, fat dripping down asizzle. No one was there to greet them; no one seemed about. Nearby, a spring gurgled from the earth and ran down a slope to a lucid mere, cattail reeds ringing ’round.
In the tiny campsite, the Bear stopped and looked over his shoulder at Camille and whuff ed. Camille dismounted. Now the Bear nuzzled the harness; she unbuckled the straps, and at another sign from the Bear, undid one of the bundles: it was a bedroll.
“We are to spend the night here?”
“ Whuff. ”
“But there must be someone who kindled the fire and spitted the rabbits to cook; are we to camp with him… or with them, if there’s more than one?”
The Bear made no reply.
Camille stamped her foot. “Oh, would you had more than a simple whuff to say, or more than that deafening roar.”
Again the Bear made no comment, but instead looked back and forth between Camille and the rabbits over the fire.
“Oh, no, Bear, that’s someone else’s meal.” Yet Camille’s mouth watered at the aroma and sight of the well- cooked meat.
Camille looked out into the forest ’round, and she called aloud, “Allo, the woods! Is the owner of the camp nigh?”
No one answered.
Frowning, she turned to the Bear. “Do you know whose camp this is?”
“ Whuff. ” And the Bear looked at Camille and the bedroll on the sward, and then sat down.
Camille cocked a skeptical eye. “My camp, O Bear? Our camp?”
“ Whuff. ”
Camille shook her head in disbelief. “And just who set it up? Fairies? Sprites?”
“ Whuff. ”
Camille was taken aback by this answer from the Bear. Wait, the footsteps. The giggle. But who could command-? “The prince of the Summerwood, did he arrange such?”
“ Whuff. ”
“And this is our meal?”
At another soft whuff from the Bear, Camille grinned and said, “Well, then, let us eat. I am starving.”
“ WHUFF! ” agreed the Bear, loudly.
Camille plucked the spit from the fire and gingerly-“ Ow, ow ”-pulled the rabbits from the wooden skewer. She held one out for the Bear, and with a great crackling and crunching, he ate it bones and all. Then he sat and watched longingly as Camille daintily ate of hers.
It was delicious.
But she could only eat one hind leg and a fore, and she gave the rest to the Bear, and snap, crunch, it was gone.
She washed her face and hands in the rill running down, and scrubbed her teeth with a chew-stick, and then took to her bedroll, where she was lulled toward sleep by the ripple of water and the chirruping of small things nearby. But then she remembered the Bear’s implied warning that in Faery were monsters dire and other hazards herein, and this momentarily startled her back awake. But then she recalled Lisette’s words: As for things of peril, Camille will have the Bear for protection, and a finer guardian none could want. The last thing she remembered seeing was the great black Bear standing ward.
The next morning tendrils of a misty fog wreathed among the trees as Camille stepped down to the spring-
