John worked the wire as ashes from the cigarette fell upon his fingers, mixing with the blood. When he finished he kept the last twist in place and stepped back. There, at least ready to go, stood all three cages and all three bears. But the doors pointed to him—to the east. Towards the Black canyon, he thought. No good. If the bears ran off in that direction, they’d have trouble accessing deeper woods away from the poachers. They might even be trapped between the two-track and the river. The poachers could drive the road and recapture them easily.

John walked around the trailer and glanced west. Much better, he thought. They’d have to cross Julip Road, but that was an easier barrier.

As he jumped onto the trailer, the bears scattered to the far sides of their cages. He grabbed each cage and spun them so the doors faced west. Two of the bears yipped and whimpered, and the trailer seesawed as he walked upon it, yet the quarrelsome bear remained calm. John had been certain that one would try and nip his fingers. But the little bruiser did not, thankfully.

He bent over the cages from the rear, and lifted the wire from the first cage while swinging the door open. The first cub hesitated, eyes wide. After a good sniff of air, the cub jumped out of the cage and onto the leafy forest floor. Goose bumps peppered John’s forearms. Initially, he thought the cub would run off into the woods. Instead, the bear sniffed the air, then leapt back onto the trailer and nuzzled up against its dead mother.

His heart sank, but there was no time for bad feelings. John pulled the wire from the next cage. The second bear slunk out, nervous as hell, then greeted its sibling on top of their mother. Soon, both cubs were mewling and pawing her rich, black fur.

John opened the door to the difficult bear’s cage. The bear pushed so hard off the cage it jerked to the side as the bear leapt into the forest.

John sighed.

Good instinct, he thought. Maybe it was the only cub to learn from mother. The sound of crunching vegetation stopped and a little head poked out of the ferns.

Shit, he thought. The confrontational cub let loose several cries, eliciting return cries from his siblings. The second sibling stood on their mother, sniffing the air. It let out a mournful wail. The cub in the woods answered and ran towards its siblings, tongue lolling. The bear pulled itself onto the trailer and joined the others around their dead mother.