She didn’t mean to do it. She loved me. Lusa said so.

He wondered if Oka had realised even back then that Tobi would never live to build a den of his own.

Shaking his pelt, Toklo realised that he knew how to build a den. He had listened reluctantly, distracted by Tobi’s happy cries, but he had listened all the same. He sniffed around the roots of the trees at the edge of the clearing, watched by the woodpecker with its head cocked on one side.

These aren’t the right trees, he told himself. Oka said to find one that doesn’t shed its leaves in the cold season, so it shelters the den from rain and snow.

He pushed a few bearlengths further into the forest until he came to a row of dark-needled pines growing along the sloping bank of a stream. The woodpecker darted along behind him, as if it wanted to see what he would do.

This is a good place, Toklo decided. There’s water, and bushes near the stream that would be good for hunting. There might even be mountain goats in the clearing.

Toklo rejected the trees at the bottom of the slope, knowing that if there was heavy rain the stream would rise and flood his den. He found a good thick tree a little further up, but its roots were so tangled that he knew he would never be able to make the hole big enough. Finally, near the top of the slope, he found the perfect spot beneath a tree whose lowgrowing branches almost swept the ground, to give extra shelter. He padded around it until he worked out where he would be protected from the prevailing wind, and where he would have to dig to get the most warmth from the sun during the day.

There’s so much to think about! But that’s OK, because it’s what bears do.

Still watched by the woodpecker, Toklo started to dig. He was surprised how hard it was to force his claws through the roots of grass and the hard-packed earth. Oka had made it look so easy, with her huge paws and sharp claws.

My claws are blunt, Toklo thought, drawing back from the beginnings of his hole to examine them. Oka used to sharpen her claws on a tree where deer had stripped the bark. I guess I’d better do that.

He set off again. He had to pad many bearlengths further into the forest before he spotted a tree where the bark had been peeled away, exposing the grey trunk beneath. Reaching up as high as he could, Toklo scraped and scraped until his paws were sore and his claws ached.

‘That will have to do,’ he panted.