Leaf litter crunches softly under the small hooves of a young colt. He creeps slowly toward a woodchuck, brown eyes wide with curiosity. The creature shuffles through the undergrowth several feet away, perfectly aware of the boy’s existence, but unwilling to leave its conquest of the forest floor just yet. The russet colt takes another step, and another, until the woodchuck decides that he is too close and disappears into some unseen burrow.

The colt’s delicate brow furrows with disappointment.

“Come, Hå.”

He looks up. His mother has been staring into the forest intently for several moments now, silently (though she is silent most of the time anyway, so this is not alarming to the boy). Håkon abandons the site of the woodchuck, bounding in the fashion of deer back to his mother’s steel-grey side. He lips at her scarred flank, and then nips it softly, before bounding away again. He wants her to chase him.

“Håkon,” Cerosi hisses sharply, her eyes never leaving the shadows of the woods, but her ears pinning back in reprimand. Håkon trots back, more curious about her sharpness than afraid of it, looking up at her with the face of innocence. What is she looking at?

Before he can turn his pumpkin-patch eyes into the shadows where she stares, Håkon hears what it is that has his mother’s attention. A soft shuffling sound, far enough away but growing closer. His ears, comically large, swivel toward the sound, and his little head snaps to follow. He can see the creature, he thinks, something about his size but far rounder and fluffier. It investigates the trunk of a tree several yards away, apparently unaware of its audience. Mare and foal watch as it begins to climb the tree, unskillfully but with clearly strong climbing instincts. It reaches a point where it hesitates, and appears to be stuck.

It squawks, a high-pitched, warbling growl. Cerosi flinches at the sound, and makes to turn, but she keeps her eyes on the cub for another few seconds. It’s only when the massive shape of the adult bear comes ambling into view that the grullo mare pivots away. As she spins, she lands a sharp bite on Håkon’s hindquarters, and then tears away.

Håkon squeals, and follows.