"Sorry," he mumbled, the word barely audible.
Grax noticed the shift. He chuckled softly, reaching out a large, comforting paw to pat Braxill's head. "Don't be sorry, little cub. Gravixor was worried about you, and... curiosity isn't something to be ashamed of. We all have feelings, both humans and animals. It's how we learn."
Braxill's eyes, wide with relief, looked up at him. The shame seemed to lift from his small shoulders.
"You know," Grax continued, a nostalgic smile touching his lips, "I once was your age, and it was around that time that I first noticed Mama Bear Grixie."
Braxill's eyes lit up. "Really? What did you do when you first met her?"
Grax's smile widened. "Well, I didn't do anything for the first several months. I was afraid. I hadn't grown into my grizzly fur yet, you see."
"So does that mean I should wait till I grow fur?" Braxill asked, completely earnest.
Grax chuckled out loud, a deep, rumbling sound that shook his chest. "No, boy, you won't grow fur! But you will grow to be a strong man one day. So take your time, don't rush into things. It's okay to feel what you feel, just let it develop naturally."
Braxill's brow furrowed, a genuine sadness clouding his young face. "But I really like her, Grax. But she's hurting. People have probably been mean to her, so she doesn't think she's beautiful. And I feel like if I say too much, she won't like me." His voice dropped to a whisper, revealing a vulnerability Grax hadn't heard before.
Grax listened with a curious, sympathetic ear. "Then say less," he advised, his voice soft but firm. "Let your actions speak. And I am one hundred percent confident she shares the same feelings, little cub. Believe me."
Braxill's face instantly brightened, a wide, radiant smile breaking through his worry. "Thank you, Papa Bear!" He then bounded to his feet and ran off, renewed energy surging through him.
Grax watched him go, a fond smile on his face. "Papa Bear," he mused, the new title settling comfortably. "That's new." He then sighed, his expression turning thoughtful. "I didn't know Gravixor was feeling that way. Maybe I ought to be more involved."
Pies and Blushes
Later, Braxill approached Gravixor at the pie stand, a sheepish grin on his face as he began inserting several more pies into his duffle bag. Gravixor simply smiled, her cheeks faintly pink. "So, what are all the pies for this time, Braxill?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
Braxill's blush deepened, covering his entire face. "To eat! So I can get bigger!" he stammered, avoiding her eyes.
Gravixor laughed softly, a warm, melodic sound. "You know, I like you the way you are, Braxill. You don't have to change for me, because—"
But before she could finish, Braxill had already turned and was running off. "Sorry, Gravixor, but I gotta go!"
Gravixor watched him disappear, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Gosh," she chuckled to herself, "he must really like me. He's so flustered he can't even stand to be in front of me."
Moco's Tears and the Scytherian Revelation
Braxill ran into the deeper part of the forest, slowing only when he reached a secluded clearing. He dropped the duffle bag with a soft thud. "I got you more, just like you asked!"
Moco was sitting on the ground, her knees drawn to her chest, looking even paler than usual. Her orange eyes, usually sharp, seemed dull. She snatched a pie from the bag and devoured the entire thing in under five minutes, her hunger clearly overwhelming any other emotion.
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"Hey, don't eat so fast!" Braxill admonished gently, reaching out to touch her hand. But he noticed her tense, a flicker of uneasiness in her eyes, and he instinctively pulled his hand back, respecting her space. He simply sat down beside her, smiling, his cheeks burning red from the earlier conversation with Grax.
Moco stared at him, her expression unreadable. Braxill looked back, his gaze innocent and open. Moco, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, quickly looked away. Braxill's eyes drifted to Moco's hand resting on the ground. Moco's gaze followed his, landing on his hand. A moment of hesitant silence stretched between them.
Slowly, Braxill reached out again, extending his hand. Moco flinched, pulling her hand away reflexively.
"Sorry," Braxill whispered.
After a moment of tense hesitation, Moco, her face a mask of inner conflict, cautiously placed her hand on top of his. The two held hands, both their faces flushing bright red, both avoiding eye contact, the simple touch a profound connection.
Braxill, gathering his courage, imagined a holographic screen shimmering into existence before them. On the screen was an image of a graceful, almost ethereal figure.
"Who is that?" Moco breathed, her voice filled with awe.
"Scytherian," Braxill answered, his voice soft.
"Scy-the-rian," Moco repeated, tasting the word. Her eyes, filled with a dawning recognition, widened. "They have pale skin... like me!"
"Snow skin," Braxill corrected gently, remembering his own thought from before.
Moco's eyes remained on the image. "Snow skin," she repeated, a tremor in her voice.
"That's a better way to say it becuase snow is beautiful," Braxill explained, his small hand still holding hers, "this way you can own your uniqueness, but compare it to something beautiful like snow."
A single tear escaped Moco's eye, tracing a path down her pale cheek. She quickly turned her head away, unwilling for him to see her vulnerability. Braxill noticed, but wisely avoided pointing it out. "Look at this," he said, shifting the holographic images. More pictures of Scytherians, in various poses and environments, flickered into view.
SCYTHERIANS
Moco "Are they still alive."
Braxill "That I'm not sure about but these women were known for their incredible athleticism and thicker bodies, I read somewhere it has something to do with having to eat more than the normal person because of their scythes."
"How do you know all this?" Moco asked, genuinely bewildered.
"The Library of Wonder!" Braxill exclaimed, his joy bubbling up. "It has everything about the surface world and ancient history. Well, maybe not everything."
Moco looked back at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes she hadn't known she possessed. "I wonder if there are other people like me? With pale, I mean, snow skin on the surface."
"Of course!" Braxill beamed. "The surface world is soooo big! Grax tells me this island is only a fraction of the surface!"
A new light entered Moco's orange eyes, a spark of determined resolve. "I must go to the surface."
"That's so cool!" Braxill enthused, his imagination already soaring. "Maybe we can go together!"
Moco stood up abruptly, pulling her hand away from his. Her face, which had softened for a moment, hardened into a familiar mask of coldness. "No. I must go alone."
Braxill's smile faltered. "But I thought—"
"You thought what?" Moco snapped, her voice sharp with a sudden, unexpected anger. "That maybe I liked you? I like nobody, and nobody likes me! I've been alone my entire life, and I intend to keep it that way!" She paused, her voice rising, a bitter torrent of words. "You live on a totally different planet from everyone else! You have no idea what the world is like, Braxill! The poverty, the violence, the deaths! And your joy... your annoying smile... it infuriates me!"
With that, Moco spun around and ran off, disappearing into the dense trees, leaving Braxill sitting alone amidst the dropped duffle bag and the fading holographic images.
Braxill was left utterly puzzled, his smile gone. He slowly stood, walking to a part of the forest that gave him a view of everything—the bustling Bear Tribe, the cheerful bears working hard to maintain village duties. His eyes dropped low, his shoulders slumping. Perhaps Moco was right. Perhaps he didn't understand. He wondered what truly lay out there, beyond Berryville's joyful, protective borders. The vast, unknown surface world.