Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 50: Misconceptions

My core radiated joy as I stared down at Kallis’s newest spirit beast.

“Is...” Maria trailed off, searching for the right words. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Because he looks like he’s having an existential crisis.”

“It does look that way... Pretty adorable, though.”

When the meal’s chi had started running through the bear’s body and forming a core, he’d sat down, entirely overwhelmed by the process. After the loud pop that always accompanied the start of a spirit beast’s ascension, he hadn’t moved. Well, not much, anyway. His jaw was slack, his row of bottom teeth exposed to the air. His eyes were wide and staring into space as knowledge flowed into him in an unstoppable stream. If I was being honest with myself, the expression was hilarious, and it took all of my willpower to not dash forward and rub my hands through his coarse fur.

“It’s the same as when you ascended, Pelly,” Maria said, turning to smile at her. “You were just as overwhelmed.”

Pelly gave her some audacious side-eye, clearly not enjoying the comparison to the comatose bear.

“And just as cute,” I added, running a hand down her neck.

“How long do you think it will take?” Maria asked, leaning against my side.

“Not too long, I don’t think. Based on what all of our animal pals said, the process seems to have been sped up. It took you both days to receive all the knowledge, right?” I asked Claws and Snips, who were creeping closer to the bear.

They both turned to study me, cocking their heads.

“You have no idea what I said, do you?” I shook my head, laughing. “Never mind. Don’t get too close to him, okay? We don’t know how he’ll react when he comes to.”

Claws chirped defiantly and flexed, her tiny muscles bulging.

“It’s not your safety I’m worried about, you goose. I just don’t want to scare or overwhelm him.”

She blew air through her lips, making a dismissive gesture with one paw.

Smiling at Claws’s predictable behavior, Maria squeezed my arm. Her gaze drifted toward the bear. “What do you think he’s experiencing right now?”

“I’m not sure.” I put an arm around her. “But I hope the knowledge finishes streaming soon. I can’t wait to meet him...”

***

Trapped within the mire of his own consciousness, the bear watched the knowledge coming in, his mind somehow able to parse most of it the instant it arrived.

It was... wondrous.

The knowledge was of things that didn’t seem important at face value, yet he couldn’t help but yearn for understanding. He was aware of the two-legged being—no, the male human—that stood before him. It was the same person that had caught him raiding the beehive earlier in the day, and with a surety the beat couldn’t put into words, he knew that their souls were linked.

Words... he thought.

It was a stunning realization that everything he had ever experienced could be so accurately conveyed with language. Before, he had thoughts, but now... there was structure to them. They weren’t merely remembered images, smells, and emotions. He could understand them. Process them. Using this newfound method, he delved deep into his own awareness, the stream of information coming in now thin enough to be parsed by a portion of his mind.

When he revisited the pivotal scenes of his past, they were illuminated by an entirely new light.

His memory of humans being cruel tricksters wasn’t necessarily wrong, but the species wasn’t inherently evil. Far from it. They experienced a wide array of emotions that were much more complicated than those of an unawakened bear. When he recalled the fierce faces of the humans wielding what he now knew were spears, most of them were terrified. There was still anger and a hint of cruelty, sure, but they were just as afraid of his mother as she had been of them.

The ambush, the one that had killed his mother, wasn’t an ambush at all.

She had been leading him through the forest in search of food when she paused and sniffed the air. Following her lead, he did the same. There was a delicious scent, one that called him forward. She had followed it of course, just as he had followed her. It had been a mistake—a fatal one. Instead of a free meal, they had found a pack of humans camping in a clearing.

Everyone, both animal and human, froze when they caught sight of each other. There was stillness for a tense moment. And then, she charged. They all followed their roles perfectly in the macabre play, doing exactly as their nature dictated. The mother bear sought to destroy, to eliminate anything that would threaten her cub. The humans fought for their lives, doing everything they could to survive. They’d tried to escape at first, tried to flee into the forest and outrun the threat. She chased them down, not able to understand that they’d happily leave her and her cub alone if she only gave them the chance.

When she caught one of them on the back of the leg with her mighty paw, their tactics had changed. And though he hated them for what they did to her, he could neither fault nor blame them. They were... he grasped for the word, not yet having mastered the language unfurling in his mind.

Loyal, he decided. The humans were loyal.

They could have left the caught man there, sacrificed him and escaped with their lives. Instead, they’d risked their own, coming back to fight his mother off. Again, she could have left, could have retreated. But that wasn’t in her nature. She would defend her cub to her own detriment—even sacrificing her very body. Her very life.

Spears, fiery branches, and a thick net descended on her…

When they grew too visceral, the bear banished the thoughts. They were too painful.

Seeking to better understand humanity, his mind drifted toward the other times he’d interacted with them. Most obvious was all the times he’d stolen food from the flat, circular stones that only human ingenuity could create.

Plates. They were called plates.

Each time he’d encountered them, it hadn’t been in a human home as one might expect. It had been in the middle of the forest, where neither food nor plates had any reason to be. He dove further into his memories, peeling back layers and layers of misconception until he came to the first time he’d met her.

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It had been weeks since the fel encounter that led to his mother’s demise, and he wasn’t fairing well. Young as he was, he hadn’t yet learned where to get food. He found berries, roots, and even a few small mammals, but nowhere near enough to sustain his growing body. Overcome by exhaustion, he had hidden in a hollow tree, a place that would have likely become his grave... if not for her.

When she’d peered down into his hole the first time, he saw only a predator. Lacking the strength to do anything about it, he’d crawled as far back into the hollow as he could, hoping beyond hope that she would leave him alone. Now that he looked back on it, he saw only curiosity and sadness in her eyes.

They weren’t the eyes of a predator; they were the eyes of a child.

“Poor little bear,” she had said, then turned and ran, her wild hair trailing behind her.

He should have left and found a new place to hide, but he’d lacked the energy. Telling himself he would get up and flee in a moment, he fell asleep. When he woke again, it was to the smell of something delicious. Half asleep, he got to his feet shakily, the promise of a meal enough to move his body. Right before the entrance to his hollow, the end of a loaf of bread sat atop a plate. The little girl stood a few meters back, peering from behind a trunk. Thinking he was getting the better of her at the time, he’d snatched the bread and retreated back beneath the tree.

He now knew it to be an old and stale bit of food, but in that moment, it had been the tastiest thing he’d ever eaten. He devoured it, even licking up the crumbs from the dirt. Only after he’d finished eating did the girl approach again. Once more, he got as far back into the hollow as possible. In his past, he saw a face with the same fury as those that had ‘ambushed’ his mother. In truth, all she had done was smile down at him.

“Good little bear,” she’d said, then picked up the plate and ran.

They repeated this countless times, the young girl progressively lingering a little longer. She brought him bread, fruit, and even spoiled meat, every meal slowly returning his vitality. The girl had to be at most six: old enough to feel compassion, yet too young to know fear. Because his only other experience with humans had been when they snuffed out his mother, if he had possessed more strength the first time the girl showed herself to him, he might have ended her life. Thankfully, he hadn’t. He couldn’t say whether it was because she was a source of food, or whether it was divine providence that stilled his claw, but he was thankful nonetheless. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he’d harmed her.

The last time he’d seen her, he was awake when she arrived. She skipped forward with a wide smile on her face, beaming down at him as she set down a plate absolutely loaded with food. Nuts, fruit, bread, and unspoiled meat, their scents combining to make his stomach growl.

“This will have to be the last time I bring you food, little bear,” she said. “My parents aren’t going to be happy when they find all this food missing. I might not be allowed out until you’re fully grown.”

In response, he had peeled back his lips and growled, the sound reverberating around the hollow he occupied.

“Hey!” she retorted with the petulance only a child could show a wild animal. “I brought you food!”

Not understanding at the time, he’d just stared, waiting for an attack to come. It never did, of course.

She spared him one last glance and another grin, then dashed away, hiding behind her usual tree. She watched him as he devoured the food, barely chewing it.

His eyes were pinned to her as she stepped out from behind the trunk and waved.

“Bye, little bear!” she yelled, grinning. “Good luck!”

With that, she turned and ran, disappearing for the last time. She, a mere child, had saved his life.

His final interaction with humans had been only earlier today, and when he’d seen their faces, he once more saw the cruelty and anger of those that had attacked his mother. But now that his intelligence was burgeoning, he knew that to be false. They’d seemed shocked to see him, yes, but also overjoyed. Excited. It was the same with the animals, the crab and otter, who he now recognized as spirit beasts. They, too, had been only happy to see him. The otter reminded him of something, and after only a moment’s thought, he realized what it was: the eyes of the otter contained the same light as the little girl’s. They were both filled with boundless curiosity.

Despite how that look tugged at his emotions, it was nothing compared to the confusion boiling up from within when he considered the man standing there. His name was Fischer, and though he appeared ordinary, he was far from it. He was a little taller and broader at the shoulder than other humans, but it wasn’t his physical size that was anomalous—it was the weight of his soul. Fischer felt like a king. An emperor, whose words alone would cause the planet to bend, perhaps to break. He held all this power, yet he was kind. He cared about those around him.

Though the bear wasn’t aware how he knew, he was certain: Fischer, this benevolent leader, had caused his awakening. Their souls were somehow intertwined, and the more he felt of Fischer, the more confused the bear became. The man’s soul didn’t feel singular, for lack of a better word. At first, he assumed that Fischer had somehow stolen the souls of others, but that wasn’t it. He could sense the color of Fischer’s intentions—the man wasn’t the type of person to do that. Also, the other souls felt attached, not owned. Suspecting that he wouldn’t glean anymore understanding with his awareness alone, the bear dismissed the thoughts.

As musings about Fischer and images of the past floated away in his mind’s eye, he was left to consider it all. He’d encountered humans three times as an unawakened bear, and all had been drastically different. Because of the information still streaming into his awareness, he well knew how unique each human could be. But applying that knowledge to events he’d seen for himself was something else entirely. It made the encounters seem... profound.

Now that he was no longer lost in the past, he realized the information flowing in had almost crawled to a stop. The relative silence let him focus on his senses once more. Shaking his head, he blinked bleary eyes, the outside world slowly coming into focus. The entire time the universe’s knowledge poured into him, he was aware of Fischer’s physical presence before him.

What he hadn’t felt was the rest of them.

As the blurred shapes sharpened into distinct beings, all the bear could do was stare. The woman from earlier was there, and the smile on her face matched the one Fischer was giving him. Beside them, the crab and otter waved, the former with a deadly-looking claw, the other suspended in midair, Fischer holding her by the scruff of her neck.

“Stop struggling, Claws,” Fischer said, shaking his head at the otter. “I know you want to ride him, but I’m not gonna let go.”

Despite being detained, the otter only waved harder, displaying her needle-sharp teeth in what some would deem a smile and others would deem a threat.

Then, there were the creatures he’d never encountered before. A giant lobster that gave him a nod, its body thicker and longer than the surrounding tree trunks. A giant dog of nightmare, its skin darker than midnight, its tail wagging. On top of the dog, a cinnamon-colored bunny that shot him a wink and boxed the air when he looked her way. Two pelicans of similar size and different species, standing close to one another and staring at him with their intelligent eyes. A small cloud of insects that buzzed what was definitely a greeting. Just to the side of the dozens of bees, two distinctly different bees that bobbed up and down in acknowledgement.

With each of the spirit beasts he inspected, his suspicions were further confirmed. These creatures were the ‘souls’ that he’d felt linked to Fischer, and their connections weren’t forced—each bond was freely given. It was a stunning revelation, and the bear’s head drifted back toward the human in question, unable to escape his pull.

When their gazes met, the bear froze. Fischer had shrunk...? As the bear continued looking at him, though, he saw the truth: it wasn’t just Fischer that had shrunk. It was everything. Even the world seemed to have gotten smaller, the giant trees no longer as grand as they once were. It could only mean one thing. The world hadn’t shrunk at all—he had grown. The bear gazed down and extended his foreclaws, expecting the act to lift his body slightly. Instead, the earth cracked beneath him, splitting as if it were dried mud.

Confronted by his newfound strength, he lifted his paw, inspecting it. His claws, once blunted by use, had been enlarged and restored. Their tips were as deadly sharp as the otter’s teeth, and because of the muscle behind them, he suspected he could swipe through rock.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Fischer asked. “Everyone’s body changes after they awaken. Well, all my animal pals did, anyway.”

The bear, feeling more than a little weird about the gesture, nodded. It was amazing.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, mate. Sorry to rush right into it, but there’s something time-sensitive we need to take care of...” Grinning, Fischer brought the hand that wasn’t grasping the otter from behind his back. He held a plate that was covered in food.

It looked to be fish, cut into small chunks and smothered in golden honey. The bear sniffed the air but couldn’t smell a thing. Odd.

“I’ve been shielding it with my chi to keep it fresh,” Fischer explained, smiling at him. “Before we eat it, though, there’s one more formality...”

“There is?” Maria asked, curling an eyebrow at him. “Hang on. Don’t tell me—”

“Yep,” Fischer replied, giving her an amused look. He turned back toward the bear, his eyes sparkling.

“Would you like a name, mate?”