Cutting in on him, hot, making his lips crack, and awakening him to see a raven poking his head inside the cooking pot, picking at the fishbones and skeleton of the fish head.

The big bird gurgle-squawked when Leif shifted and jumped back but did not fly off. He had grabbed at the fish head when he moved away and walked back and forth near the waterline in a strut, carrying the fish head up in front as he marched.

It’s like he was showing off, Leif thought. Proud of getting the head for himself. He even put it down and pretended to pick at it, though there was nothing left but the bone-shell of the skull with teeth and eye sockets, and then took it up again and flew with it to a nearby branch.

More gurgle-talk from the limb, again parading back and forth up there, and finally he flew off and scornfully dropped the head in the water. Leif stood. He wanted to stay here and take time to refresh even more – take another fish or two and smoke them – but he had cooked and the smell of flavoursome steam would have gone up and out in the trees and willows.

He thought the black bear would certainly come. He had gone a fair distance from the bear in the berries, but he felt the smoke and smell would carry forever. It was actually a little strange that the bear had not shown by this time. So Leif put his gear in the canoe and slid off into the water. The current was flowing slightly out of the inlet, so he took a few strokes and let the current take him. He had not gone a stone’s throw when he looked back and saw the bear.

Or more accurately, two bears. Both black bears, not large, and they were investigating the campsite. One of them, the smaller, took a few tentative steps into the water towards the canoe, pushed by curiosity, but it was for show. Leif was too far out by this time, the water so deep the bear would have to swim, and it was clearly not worth the effort. The bear snorted – a whuff – and returned to where Leif had made his cooking fire. Leif had poured water to make certain it was extinguished, but the sludge from the ashes had the smell of cooking and the flat rock he had initially used for baking was covered with fish grease and blood-juice stains. The bears tussled with each other to decide who got the chance to lick the rock and muck about in the ashes, but aided by a couple of blunt swipes with a large paw, the bigger bear won by default before it became a full-on fight.