Lusa stopped at the foot of a tree, looking up. A dark hole gaped about halfway up the trunk; bees were flying in and out of it. “Honey!” she repeated, swiping her tongue around her jaws.

While Toklo watched, she raced up the tree trunk and thrust her head into the hole. The sound of buzzing grew louder and more angry, and Toklo heard a faint yelp of pain from Lusa inside the tree. He sighed. It’s not my fault you’re getting stung.

When Lusa withdrew her head from the hole, her snout was covered in golden sticky stuff. Her eyes shone. “It’s delicious!” she exclaimed. “Here, Toklo, wait a moment.”

Lusa poked one paw into the hole and clawed out a lump of honeycomb, which she dropped to the ground at Toklo’s paws. Then she stuck her head back in the hole.

Toklo tasted the honeycomb, letting the sweet honey trickle between his jaws. Then he gulped the rest of it down and waited for Lusa to scramble down the tree. While he waited, he realized that some of the honey was sticking to his snout, while some of it had dripped onto his paws. He licked at it, but it still clung to his pelt and made his fur stick up in spikes.

Lusa dropped to the ground beside him. “Wasn’t that good?”

“It was okay,” Toklo grumbled, not wanting to admit that he’d enjoyed the sweet taste. “But it’s sticking all over my pelt. And you got stung.”

“It was worth it!” Lusa insisted, her eyes gleaming.

Toklo huffed. “Let’s keep going and find some real prey.”

To Toklo’s relief, he picked up the scent of grouse almost as soon as they set off again. At the same moment he heard the sound of frantic fluttering and spotted the bird trapped in a bramble thicket. With a roar of satisfaction, Toklo pounded toward the grouse. But as he reached the thicket, ready to plunge in, he found himself face-to-face with the brown she-bear he had met in the meadow two days before.

The she-bear thrust her snout at him with a snarl. “Back off! This prey is mine.”

Toklo felt his fur bristling with anger. “Yours? I didn’t notice any scent marks. This isn’t your territory!”

For a moment the she-bear looked disconcerted. “Well . . . no, it’s not quite my territory. But I live here and you don’t!” she went on, recovering. “So I have the right to hunt wherever I like!”

For some reason, Toklo found her defiance funny, especially when the grouse wriggled free from the brambles and escaped right under their noses. He couldn’t stifle a snort of amusement.

“What are you sniggering about, bee-brain?” the she-bear growled.

Before Toklo could reply, Lusa popped up at his side, peering at the she-bear with friendly interest. “Hi,” she said.

The brown she-bear reared back, startled. “A black bear?”

“Well spotted,” Toklo grunted.