BONUS CLIVE CHAPTER
Alternative POV
The warm spring air tickled my nostrils. Plants were in full bloom, the days were long, and finally, Marsh Queen and Little Fern had returned.
Marsh Queen remained the finest female I had ever encountered. Strong. Intelligent. Unimpressed by foolishness. Convincing her to return to my town had been one of my greatest accomplishments. Convincing her to stay here remained an ongoing challenge.
Little Fern was bigger now, walking confidently through the shallows of the river. She could find food, run fast, and ignore her parents with equal skill.
It vexed me tremendously.
Parenting was impossible. Just when I thought we had her under control, she tested us in new ways.
Downstream, I’d spotted a small group of humans walking.
Before I could signal to Little Fern to return to us, I discovered it was just Carrying Beard and Gentle Female.
He was new in town. A Beard Brother, but somehow different.
First, he always had his calf with him.
Carried her against his chest every day. I liked him. Practical. With excellent instincts. If my observations were accurate, few human males remained this involved in calf rearing. I approved.
In fact, I was jealous. His calf sat happily despite the restricted movement. He could hold her close and never worry about her wandering into a road or a dense forest.
Little Fern loved independence. I thought it was deeply overrated.
Gentle Female seemed to be in charge of feeding the herd. She smelled of bread and spent much time at the location where food was stored for others.
She had eyes filled with sorrow, but when Carrying Beard and his calf were near, they lightened a little. So maybe less sorrow soon.
Little Fern was testing me today. I maintained a distance of approximately six body lengths. It was more than reasonable. Marsh Queen snorted and set off upstream in search of willow shoots. She trusted Little Fern and encouraged her development.
I remained unconvinced. This calf was spirited and had inherited her mother’s inability to listen to reason. So I remained watchful. It was essential for at least one parent to maintain direct visual contact at all times.
As I lowered my head to take a bite of duckweed, a whimper caught my attention, followed by a splash.
I snapped my head up, and my heart stopped. Little Fern disappeared under the water.
The river had swallowed her completely.
I froze, one heartbeat, then two.
When she didn’t surface, I charged toward the water, looking for her.
I lunged off the riverbank, water surging around my legs, the rocks shifting beneath my weight, and slid, unable to remain steady on the slick, slimy stones.
Little Fern cried out, the sound splintering my heart.
No.
Oh no.
Where was Marsh Queen?
I lifted my head and brayed.
The sound echoed through the forest.
Over and over, I called out for help.
Danger.
I trudged down the riverbank, searching for a way to get closer but unable to get around the rocks. I was too big, too heavy.
Dread settled in my chest.
The forest had always made sense to me. Seasons changed, calves grew up, creatures endured hardship. But this? This made no sense at all.
Through my spiraling thoughts, I sensed a presence.
Carrying Beard. On the other side of the river.
He transferred his calf to Gentle Female, his focus fixed on my calf.
Little Fern cried out.
Her head bobbed at the surface. She was struggling to breathe. She could swim, I’d seen it just yesterday.
I got closer, still searching for a way to approach her.
She was stuck. That was the only explanation.
Carrying Beard was walking into the water with a coiled rope in his hands.
He stopped, assessed the current, identified anchor points, and moved deeper. No wasted movement, no panic.
Carrying Beard was more competent than I expected.
I surged toward the river again. Maybe I could help him.
But then Marsh Queen was by my side. She stood in front of me, blocking my path. I turned, ready to lumber around her. I couldn’t wait. I had to get to Little Fern.
She shook her head. While I’d probably die—snap my legs on the uneven rocks—I couldn’t leave my calf out there. What did she expect me to do?
Carrying Beard carved a path through the fast-moving water like a seasoned warrior. As he got close, his rope hitched around his shoulder, Little Fern again disappeared beneath the current.
Only pausing for a moment to take a deep breath, he dove under the water.
Across the river, Gentle Female held the human calf.
Carrying Beard didn’t just love his calf. He loved my calf too. He had left his on the riverbank to rescue mine.
My legs shook. This was not the way of the forest.
Marsh Queen trembled beside me, and together, we watched.
A moment later, Carrying Beard surfaced.
And he was carrying Little Fern.
He was clearly an exception to his species.
The strength of a moose.
The bravery of a bear.
And the heart of a father.
He struggled with each step, pushing through the water.
Little Fern cried out but stayed still, allowing the capable human to rescue her.
He deposited her on our side of the river before collapsing.
I ran toward them, forgetting how terrified the humans often were when I approach without warning.
Carrying Beard gasped. Gentle Female held the calf to her chest.
I nudged Little Fern, trying to get her onto her feet.
She stumbled. But I pushed her again. We would have a very serious conversation once I verified that she was unharmed.
She stood and took a few steps before stumbling again.
Patiently, I nudged her, purring gently. She could do this. She could get up.
Eventually, she found her feet.
Carrying Beard knelt on the riverbank, exhausted, soaked, and vulnerable. Little Fern pressed against my leg, and Marsh Queen waited for us at the edge of the woods.
I looked at the human.
He met my gaze.
Father to father.
Neither of us moved.
I had no way to thank him. To express my gratitude. Instead, I stared at this remarkable human and vowed to someday repay him.
Carrying Beard had saved my calf. I would be forever in his debt. And I’d help him or any of the Beard Brothers in any way I could.
I lowered my head to signal respect and then walked toward the forest with Little Fern.
She moved steadily now.
When we were a good distance away, Carrying Beard returned to his own calf. He protected his herd and I protected mine.
But I would never forget this day.
Some creatures shared blood.
Others shared burdens.
Both were family.