“Bear Society”

Jenny Pinther

He had always been afraid of waterfalls. He was the oldest, the supposed boldest, but even living on the island he was born on did not erase his fear of the raging waters. Not once did his speckled green eyes give it away, however. He had a reputation to pursue and a pack to lead. After all, he was Chief Jordan.

“Chief!” a young boy’s voice shouted.

“Yeah?” Jordan answered, calmly, but alert at the urgency in the voice. He stood up from his pondering rock, and squinted his eyes against the sunlight.

The child ran up to him with his messy blonde mop and toothy grin. “Oh! Phew, Mr. Jordie! Tony was saying you went on an adventure without me!”

Aw, you know I wouldn’t do that, Calvin,” said Jordan, ruffling Calvin’s messy hair.

But he wished he could.

If only he could stray from the village and take nobody with him but his knife and his block of wood. He imagined it almost every day. He would have a Town Hall meeting in the early morning. It would be a sunny Saturday, two clouds in the sky in the east, one in the north. He would stand up in front of his tribe and announce he was going to search for the monster within!

Only there was no monster.

Not to mention there hadn’t been a Town Hall since Jordan himself was dropped in the throne. That was almost six years ago. Jordan was of age.

He had been the youngest appointed Chief in Bear Society history. He also, as of just recently, had been the longest-surviving.

The Chief watched Calvin run off again with his friends. He loved his job. It was so natural for Jordan to be the leader, the symbol of hope for a pack. That was why he was appointed so early in his life.

Jordan slipped off his shoes. It was time for a swim.

He ran with calloused, wise feet across the dip in the valley and on to the rocky path. Various tribal members looked up excitedly at the site of a sun-tanned young man running down the path. Many that were finished with their chores abandoned their posts and ran after Chief Jordan, throwing off their own shoes, stumbling. Those who were not done with their chores worked faster than ever.

Soon enough, Jordan had almost two dozen of his pack behind him. He looked behind him in-between his elite footsteps across the uneven ground, and grinned. He ran a little faster, his black shiny hair tugging ever so lightly in the wind.

At last he reached the spring. He halted. All the children were ready, and stopped in awe instantly. The Chief removed his light blue button-down shirt ceremoniously, his back toward the smiling children around him. A girl in the back giggled at his smooth, tan skin and muscular, lean build.

With a deep breath, Jordan dived into the clear indigo water. This spring was of a fairy tale, and the Bear Society treated it as such. It was almost fake, how blue the water was, and how fresh it always flowed. With reverence and continued awe, the tribe waited for their respected Chief to resurface from the spring. The seconds he was under were long and demanding, but the children were patient. It was tradition, after all.

Jordan’s head met air once again. The pool was very deep, and it rippled against Jordan’s wading neck. Everyone in Bear Society must know how to swim. Enjoying his respected authority, Jordan finally called out to his pack.

“What are you waiting for??”

At once pairs and pairs of little people jumped into the spring, some competing for bigger, louder splashes. It wasn’t long before everyone was in. Jordan swam a lap around the main pool, watching his tribe. He trusted them to behave, but he was always wary of accidents. He smiled as one of the girls decided they wanted to play toe-monster under the water. “Hey, hey, watch it!” he laughed as one of the cubs tickled his feet.

All sources of water on the island of Zsa Zsa were deep and endlessly clear. The legend was that a man slew a water dragon in the depth of the sea, and died in the honorable battle. The man’s blood was made of strength and truth, and the blood from his fatal wounds forever cleansed the water of its grime.

Jordan wished he believed in such tales.

And secretly he did. But he was honestly unsure that a leader of the Bear Society, after all, should believe in such stories. The argument with himself was that Bear Society was named after Bear, the man who slew the dragon in the sea. But even still, weren’t stories just meant to entertain?

Jordan admittedly knew nothing of fiction. He knew nothing of art. Except for carving, that is.

He carved everything. His hands were practically sculpted for it. Strong, yet petite, and calloused in the right places. Sometimes it was the only thing the Chief felt he could do.

Jordan swam another loop around the pool, and then swam away from the others, heading up a gentle river that curved out of sight. They knew to leave him be when he swam away. Again, the legend of Bear lives on.

But instead of fighting the monsters of the deep, Jordan found a rock platform, solid against an opening of a cave. This cave was designated for Chiefs-only, long ago, as if it was some juvenile tree house. It wasn’t. The Bear Society Chief before Jordan, Cameron, was a thirty-four-year-old man by the time he finished his rule. Cameron used the cave regularly, especially right before he tragically died.

There had been hundreds of rulers of Bear Society, Jordan making the 573rd. In all that time, nobody had ever been appointed as early as twelve, as Jordan had, or lived in the Chief’s position for as long as Jordan had. Seven years rule, and Jordan had escaped mortal peril with ease.

He stepped onto the stone and danced a little, resembling an animal as he shook off some of the refreshing water.

The cave was unfortunately not “fit for a king,” as the Chief himself had imagined before his dream cam true. In fact, it was really just an enormous cave. Dozens of under-ground cells and tunnels remained unexplored and open for day journeys, but the cave was more of a quiet place than an adventurous headquarters.

Jordan found his favorite stone seat and picked up his knife and block of wood from the floor beside him. He leaned back and carved and whittled away, using the whispers of the slate walls as his soundtrack.

He sighed in content. It was nice and cool inside his cave, a nice break from the sun that got harsh sometimes. There was a wet breeze that drafted through the cave, making his hair feel cold as he brushed a longer lock behind his ear. It felt like it might rain soon.

“Maybe you should get to know these caves a little better.”

Jordan’s noble eyes snapped up from his woodworking. Nobody was allowed in his cave. The caves were lifeless, and had been since Jordan first stepped inside the private walls.

“Who are you?” Jordan questioned, appreciating the level tone in his voice. His eyes jumped around like hummingbirds.

A figure emerged from one of the tunnel entrances. Jordan dropped his block of wood, but grabbed his knife in a stronger grip.

“I am Chandler.”

“What are you doing in here?” Jordan demanded of the stranger, noticing his clever blue eyes in the strange light.

Chandler stepped a little closer, and swiftly sat, looking unusually comfortable on a stone just a few feet from Jordan. Chandler did not look threatening. His pale skin and walnut-colored hair made him look terrifically handsome, but not frightening. When he smiled, it made Jordan want to smile too.

“Well, let’s be going then!” Chandler announced, quickly adopting a comical British accent.

Jordan had little choice but to follow him. He waited for a little voice to warn him it was unsafe. He waited for a sudden change of mind. It never came. He clearly wasn’t dangerous, but of course in his leave, Jordan gently pocketed his knife.

“So Chandler,” Jordan began, swinging his hips to make himself look stronger, bolder. “How old are you?”

Chandler laughed. His laugh was deep, yet incredibly skinny. “I like that the first question you ask is of my age. You could have asked who I was, why do I live in a cave, or where we are going, but you ask me my age.”

The Chief frowned. “I take it back then–.”

”–You ask me a question that means nothing. You ask me of a number that measures time. Did you know that time only exists in our own minds?”

“Why no, I–“

”–Of course you didn’t. Because then you wouldn’t have asked me the damn question.”

The Chief desperately tried to pry Chandler’s fingers off of his self-confidence. “Look, I mean–“ he tried, choking.

“Look at what?”

“Do you even know who I am? Never have I been disrespected in such a way! Especially by a young individual such as yourself. Again, I ask, How old are you?”

“No. The answer to your question is no.”

They were walking down a tunnel that squeaked underneath his hard feet. Jordan supposed they were several hundred feet underground by now. Daylight was no longer visible, so the young Chief forced his eyes adjust to the lack of light. This wasn’t so difficult, as he had lived outdoors his entire life.

“My question was not a yes or no question.”

“Not in a literal sense, no,” Chandler conceded, running a hand through his hair as he walked. “But we both know what you were really asking,” he replied softly.

Jordan frowned once more.

“It’s a no because I am your age.”

“How do you know my age?”

“Because you’re nineteen.”

“How did you know I was nineteen? That doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Chandler abruptly stopped his quickening pace, forcing Jordan to halt as well. In doing so, he nearly popped out his knee. Chandler stepped up to Jordan, very close.

He noticed Chandler’s freckles for the first time. He was close enough to smell a faint cologne. Jordan was privately pleased he was not shorter than the man in front of him. He wondered if he smelled as awful as Chandler smelled pleasant.

Chandler smirked. “My question for you,” he said, stepping even closer, “is are you upset because I know your age or because you have no authority over me?”

“You could be lying,” Jordan swerved.

The freckles get even closer still. “I have no reason to do such a thing. You do enough of that yourself.”

Chandler stepped away and the cologne sadly followed him. The man had the grace of a woman and the deviance of Jordan’s inner fears.

Jordan regretted walking next to this stranger. He regretted rising from his stone seat, and abandoning his wooden block. He regretted that no inner voice stopped him. Even more so, he regretted leaving his pack, his Bear Society.

They’d been walking in the caves for what must have been hours, though Jordan could not tell for sure, as he wore no watch. Chandler, of course, wore a watch. Chandler seemed to know everything.

“Could you tell me what time it is?”

“Too short. To get a watch. Quarter to a hair and half past a freckle. Quarter to a monkey’s ass and half past his balls. Satisfied?”

That settled that.

The Chief’s stomach began to gurgle with tumbles of guilt, worry, and eventually hunger. At last, a roar from Jordan’s abdomen took Chandler by a sort of feigned surprise.

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

“Am I mistaken to claim there is no food?”

“You could have asked.”

Jordan laughed, confidence slowly climbing. “You’ve taught me to not ask you questions.”

“I told you not to ask about time,” Chandler replied, raising his right eyebrow.

Chandler stopped immediately at a very skinny stream that crossed in their path. It was a vein thin enough that the two men could easily step over it, but Jordan still imagined it was as deep as all of the other sources of water, but it was harder to tell in the dim light.

“Drink,” Chandler commanded.

Jordan obeyed. He stopped down on his knees and cupped his hands. He began to drink the refreshing crisp liquid, letting the moisture cool down his drying tongue. He washed it around his mouth, hydrating his body and mind. He swallowed in small gulps, knowing better than to take advantage of the legendary water.

His knees pressed harshly into the pebbles on the cave floor, but Jordan barely noticed. He drank the water and his hunger began to ease.

“Jordan,” said a voice in his ear.

The young man jumped, nearly choking on the liquid. “Don’t scare me like–“

”Why are your fingers bleeding, Jordan? Why are your palms glowing red?” The voice caressed in Jordan’s ear. Jordan felt the warm breath in his ear, but could not see Chandler anywhere. It had to be his voice. Chills tore at his skin, leaving it bumpy and cold.

Jordan looked down at his hands nervously.

They were shiny in the very dim light, the liquid from the stream still on his fingertips.

Red.

“NOOO!” Jordan screamed. He jumped off his knees and wiped his bloody hands on the wall, falling against it, knees buckling. His fingers leaving trailing, fading marks on the uneven surfaces. He ineffectively wiped his tongue with his arms to get the red out of his body, out of him.

His stomach tossed the small gulps of blood in a huge, odorous splash onto the floor beside him.

“HOW COULD IT BE BLOOD?!” Jordan roared, reaching insanity. His eyes were beginning to roll. He grabbed at his hair, making it stand awkwardly when he let go of his sweating scalp. There was no way that was blood. It was water just a minute ago!

Jordan yelled for somebody to help, but passed out on the cold, apathetic floor before somebody could even answer him.

Chandler looked into Jordan’s face. He took a gentle hand and wiped the Chief’s sweaty brow, making Jordan blush a little. He was empty. Chandler was full of life.

“What have I done?” he croaked to the squatting man.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, friend,” Chandler soothed.

“Whose blood have I stolen?” he cried.

Chandler took a thumb and forefinger and closed Jordan’s eyes gently. “No animal suffered.”

“Then whom?”

“No blood but your own.”

Jordan rolled over on his bare back, his eyes still hidden under heavy eyelids. He smelled metal and tasted it as well. “How did I not know?”

“People rarely mean to cut themselves.”

“Get up, Chief.”

Jordan woke up with a jolt. “You!” Jordan boomed, patting his pants pockets. Where did his knife go?

“Me?” Chandler responded innocently.

Jordan had Chandler’s attention, but he had nothing to say. What had he done? Chandler was no-where to be seen when he mistakenly drank from the stream of blood. Chandler was a ghost, a pair of eyes that haunted Jordan, even though they had only just met. Was there anything to say? Was there anything to ask?

“Why have you taken me here?”

“Didn’t you wish for an adventure? A chance to stray away alone, and “fight the monster within?” he mocked. “Your wish has been granted, and you aren’t very grateful.”

Jordan’s eyes burned in his skull, only searing more painfully when he blinked. “I demand you take me back. I wish I was home!” he said loudly, trying his so-called genie approach.

“You were the one who stepped inside the cave, took a walk with a stranger...”

“My pack needs me!”

“Do you have a cub of succession?” Chandler asked mischievously.

He stared. “You’re going to kill me?”

“No.”

“So why are you asking–“

”Your tribe does not need you. Bear Society will always carry on. Bear Society does not quit when Jordan quits.”

“I’m going home.”

“Good luck finding your way...” Chandler said, looking at the hand prints of deep crimson fingerpaint on the cave walls.

He hadn’t thought of that. There were three different exits from the room. His red bile was beginning to dry on the floor. Jordan’s stomach gurgled again, but nothing existed there to be vomited. Jordan spun around twice, wildly, feeling dizzy and crazed. The walls all looked the same, the ceiling was too high to reach. The stream was gone.

He fell to the floor and realized the horrible, undeniable truth. His knees bore his weight as he sweated from every pore of his tan skin.

He was at his mercy.

“Let’s go,” Chandler commanded coldly.

They walked for a long time. Jordan was now shorter than the man beside him, the top of his head only reaching his nose. Jordan was weak. He blinked slowly and numbly matched Chandler’s pace, fingers running over his own dry palms. He couldn’t see the blood still left on his hands, but he felt it as he walked. It drove him crazy. He wanted out of this cave.

“How much do you know about the legend?”

The Chief swallowed. “Which legend?”

“There’s only one faithful legend on Zsa Zsa. Only one legend that applies to you, Jordan.”

Jordan didn’t like the way Chandler said his name. It was not of disrespect; it was oily and seductive, though there was no feeling behind it. He hated how his voice wasn’t as strong as it was before. Maybe he just needed water. Maybe it was that he was too ill–.

“Did you know Cameron well?”

For the first time in a few hours, Jordan met Chandler in the eye. “How do you know Cameron?” The path in front of him felt very warm all of the sudden.

He smiled. “We’ve exchanged a few words. I have a surprise for you, Jordan.”

Jordan wanted to hope. “Is Cameron alive?”

Laughter rung the walls of the cavernous surroundings. “No, no no no. He died. He wouldn’t just leave and never come back...”

He slumped down to his new height.. “I’m getting really warm.”

“That’s part of the surprise,” Chandler replied, looking comfortable in the increasing heat. Jordan was so dehydrated...

And then he stopped.

There was sky.

“Woah,” was all Jordan could say. He ran forward to feel the sun on his face. It was beautiful, it was bright, and it was what he needed–.

“It’s probably just a mirage,” Chandler said, poking a needle in his bubble.

Jordan’s bubble deflated, but the sun was still there. He looked down at his feet. He was standing in water. Real water. “Sweet mother of God!” he shouted crazily, and dove into the lake at his feet. He skinned his legs and got dirt in his hair, but he barely noticed. He scrubbed his hands underneath the water, abusing them on the pebbles in the shallow section of the lake. He ceased when he felt satisfied. “Chandler. Thank you,” he told his master, hugging his knees.

Chandler seemed like his old self again. “Drink some, and let’s go for a little hike, okay? Just a quick walk, I promise.”

Jordan nodded. He drank some. “Where are we headed?” he asked. He wasn’t himself.

“You’ll see,” he replied kindly.

Instead of going downhill, they walked uphill. Jordan could not figure out how he could be outside and underground at the same time. But it didn’t matter anyway. The blood was gone, his mistake was in his past. He got away.

The path was made of light dirt and chunky rocks. The more Jordan appreciated that he was out of the cave, the greater his scenery became.

“What about that legend, Chandler?” he asked as they walked slowly together.

“I was just wanting to know how much you knew of it. It’s a great story, isn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Bear died in the sea, and that purified our water. Legends just seem like good entertainment for the Bear Society cubs. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“It’s not a legend, Jordan.”

“But...”

“It’s a fable.”

“Well, is there that much of a difference? It’s a story that explains something, or–“

”–teaches a lesson,” Chandler cut in.

They walked for a bit more, enjoying the breeze and shade of tall trees.

“Do you know how Cameron died?”

Jordan shook his head. “Do you?”

“I was there. He was brave, but foolish at the same time.”

He stopped walking. Chandler did too. “How do you know?

“I just said. I was there.”

“Bear Society was never told back then. We never heard a word. The rule is, three days. Three days without a Chief and a new one is appointed. Three long days went by, and Cameron never came back. How did he...?”

“He was eaten by a cougar,” he informed him bluntly.

The phone book hit Jordan square in the back. “He what?”

“Gobbled. Cougar. Well, sorta. More like half-eaten.”

“And you were there? Why didn’t you do anything??”

They began walking again, but The Chief could tell they were close to their destination when Chandler looked around more curiously than he was used to seeing.

“Almost there,” he loftily confirmed.

“Wait... weren’t cougars his thing he was most afraid of? That guy was so strong and wise, but he told me once that the cougar was his enemy. He was so afraid of them.”

“Rather unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Jordan looked at his hands and stared. “That would be terrible.” he said. “Hold on, why didn’t you help him?!”

“Oh, I did.”

“Really?” he asked, forgiving him immediately. “I’m surprised you didn’t get eaten, then.”

Chandler smiled.

They walked up the hill about ten more yards. “Nearly there.” He turned swiftly to the right, almost running right into Jordan.

“Geez,” he grumbled.

A roaring sound thundered almost instantly. “Ho-shit!” Jordan jumped, feeling for a knife that remained no-where to be found.

Chandler remained relaxed. “It won’t come get us, Jordan.”

Jordan looked over to look toward his enemy. His fear. He was so unprotected. “Why did you take me here?” he asked, trying to remain calm as he eyed the monster.

“Bear’s worst enemy was lizards,” was Chandler’s unhelpful reply.

“Answer me!” Jordan roared.

“You aren’t as intelligent as those who preceded you, Jordan. The cougar died against Cameron. Cameron knew. Cameron won.”

“But he died!” Jordan shouted louder over the roar. “What does this have to do with anything?!” Sweat poured down his neck.

“You let me take control,” Chandler sneered. His oily voice was still audible over the incredible roars. “Do you know where you’re standing, Jordan?”

The young man’s hands were shaking. “Yes,” he answered, swallowing.

Droplets of moisture were accumulating on his chest, still bare from his swim that seemed so very long ago.

And then he realized.

So many leaders had died before him.

“Do you know what happens next?” Chandler asked lowly.

So quickly, always alone.

“I don’t–“ Jordan trembled.

They never came back.

“This way, Chief,” Chandler said, like he had done it so many times before. The boredom on his face was nearly tangible. “Come along, now.”

Worst fears.

Jordan stepped forward. Did he know how to do it?

The roar of the cougar.

The roar of the water.

Jordan was within arms reach. This was it. The tiny stone path on the tiny stone bridge was hard enough to balance on already. Chandler smiled.

And pushed.

He had always been afraid of waterfalls.

Jordan’s feet left the stone path. His arms flailed, just a little. The Chief didn’t look down. Not once. He knew the watery fate, the rocks at the bottom, and the pressure of falling so far into the aquatic earth. He did not look down.

His face remained firm. He was the oldest, after all. The supposed boldest. Nineteen years on the island he had been born on still had not erased his fear of the raging waters. Even now, his green eyes only watered with the water that roared around him, spray flying into his eyes. His eyes did not look down.

His eyes were on his tan skin, his hands. His muscular arms and how they were flexing on his free fall.

Jordan fell. It was slow, Jordan falling slower than the waters churned with momentum, down.

He was still the youngest Chief. He wondered if he always would be. He wished he could warn them.

Before he hit the falls below, he took one last look at Chandler, who dragged him into the mouth and roar of this worst fear. Jordan felt that he’d return the favor.

He won. His hand held the wrist of the other man, who tried to break free. They were separated--

The moment the great waterfalls stripped them apart.

And the Chief fell.