BONUS CLIVE CHAPTER
Alternative POV
The day started like any other. Cold and windy, but with the promise of leaves to eat and the warmth of sunshine on my fur.
As I lumbered through the forest that was my home, a mechanical roar disturbed my tranquility.
Ugh. Humans.
Curious, I headed to the road where the sun was just rising, finding a silver vehicle approaching.
Shiny
Too shiny.
And small.
Completely unsuited for life in the forest.
Or winter.
Despite its unnecessary confidence, it possessed little ground clearance and even less off-road capability. The humans were always increasing the impracticality of their transport, desperate to overcompensate for their weak legs and lack of hooves.
I disapproved.
The inferior creatures lacked survival instincts and sometimes wandered past the boundaries of their homes into the forest. It was dangerous and inconvenient for everyone involved.
I moved forward, making myself known, warning this human to turn back before it injured itself or others.
The vehicle squeaked and slowed to a dramatic stop mere feet from my hide.
Rude.
A male stared through the glass with wide eyes.
He resembled the Beard Brothers.
Though he appeared slightly defective.
He had a hairless beard. Strange.
And even more strange? Tiny glass barriers framed his face. He pushed the barriers up in front of his eyes.
Perhaps his original eyes were insufficient? Curious.
No Beard gaped at me. Then the shiny vehicle emitted an aggressive squeaking noise.
I remained unmoved, my concern growing for this human.
He appeared to believe he outranked Clive. Fascinating behavior.
And probably emblematic of his questionable judgment.
No Beard shouted into a tiny glowing rectangle. Another Beard’s voice echoed in the vehicle. The Beard Brothers frequently communicated through magic bricks despite being in possession of functional—albeit weak—legs.
Clive had encountered many humans before, but the Beard Brothers always stood out. Grumpy Beard, Sky Beard, Friendly Beard, Carrying Beard, and Quiet Beard. And now this one to add to the herd.
This human must have been injured.
Or illness had claimed his beard.
Tragic. He was among the weaker of his species.
I got closer to the vehicle, keeping him from moving forward. Despite my distrust of humans, I felt an obligation to assist the sickly one. Protect him.
He could be a juvenile. Perhaps like moose who didn’t develop antlers until adulthood, this human would eventually grow a beard. Clive supposed he could simply be young.
But as I moved in closer, it did not seem to be the case.
No Beard gripped the circle inside the shiny vehicle with intensity. The scent of his panic wafted through the open window.
He must be sickly.
He adjusted his eye devices again. This behavior appeared to be compulsive. Similar to an anxious squirrel preparing for a winter storm. No Beard must carry great invisible burdens. The forest understood. This one was in danger, separated from the herd and out of place.
Poor eyesight.
No beard.
Distress odors.
Impractical migration vehicle.
And clearly no mate. Females prized strength and robust facial fur. This one must be very lonely. Likely to perish alone with no viable genetic offspring.
I longed for a mate. Spending my youth fighting, foraging, and causing mayhem for the humans had left me a bit lonely.
Last year, I had seen a captivating cow at the pond, and I vowed if I ever saw her again, I’d be brave enough to make a move.
Marsh Queen haunted my thoughts. I’d like one more chance to show her I was a mature bull now.
All my juvenile mischief-making was behind me.
I walked around the car, keeping close to protect it. This vehicle needed to be herded like a calf who had wandered away from its mother.
But my efforts made No Beard more upset.
The squeaking continued. Now with yelling. Despite his ill health, No Beard’s voice was loud and powerful.
Then he removed his eye devices and rubbed his pale face.
Clive made eye contact. He was a sick soul. Possibly at the end of his short human life. And judging by his anger, without a mate.
My concern deepened.
After extended eye contact, No Beard seemed to let out a breath, his shoulders slumping as he gripped the dark circle in front of him again.
Perhaps he possessed other strengths. Maybe he was excellent at foraging.
Or pattern recognition. Or deducing which part of the river was most shallow and easiest to cross. All were valuable skills in the forest.
On second thought, maybe it was best to let him continue on his way. Perhaps he could find his herd, and maybe the Beard Brothers would protect him.
As I wandered into the trees, No Beard replaced his eye devices and resumed his migration north.
And as the shiny vehicle disappeared from view, I hoped he would survive the winter.