As if reading his thoughts, the bear growled, making him to back off the wire.

Whoa, calm down boy, he said. You’ll be out of here soon enough.

The bear leapt at him, jamming both paws between the steel bars. The bear’s tongue pushed between its fangs and dripped saliva. It growled deeply, face and paws trembling.

John stepped back.

The bear held this position for the next few minutes, so John lit a cigarette, the tan filter catching his bloody fingerprints like a cancerous police blotter. He took a drag and eyed the bear, waiting. With great amusement he pictured what the scene might look like later, the surprise and dismay on the slob poacher’s faces upon returning to their trailer. He pulled on the cigarette again, exhaling into the canopy. Somewhere back in the hemlocks a raven cawed.

The aggressive cub stood its ground, shaking and ramming into the cage door. John lit another cigarette and walked ten steps backwards. The bear calmed, then backed away from the cage door, vertical impressions in its fur where steel bars had been.

John backed up another five steps.

The quarrelsome bear followed suit, rump wobbling to and fro. And for the first time John saw the young bear’s frame from the side. And the bear was a he. Although skinny, his frame was designed to hold plenty of weight. Even better, his legs, shoulders, and ribcage were oversized compared to his siblings. If he survived, he might be a real bruiser.

John squatted, arms balanced on his knees. He glared at the bear, willing it back to the far end of the cage.

Now look, he said, I apologize for what these idiots did to you and your momma. But my friend, if you don’t want to end up like your momma there, you need to let me finish the job.

The bear growled and took two steps back.

That a boy, he said. See? Nothing to worry about. I’m going to release you so you can grow big and fat like momma there, okay?

John glanced over at the mother bear, lifeless and flat on the trailer with her arms tucked in. The quarrelsome cub loped to the side of the cage closest to its mother and pawed her through the bars.

She’s gone, John said. But you still have a chance, bruiser. I’m going to move closer now. I’m going to unravel this wire before the slobs come back, and you’re going to let me, okay?

The cub retreated to the far side of the cage, head titled to the side.