Free Mating for Life by Marissa Stapley

kids. Xavier didn’t reply and Ani shook her head vigorously, perhaps assuming she’d be required to eat fish, and pointed out a chocolate bar on the rack. Ilsa hesitated—it was processed, full of garbage—but then picked up two bars and said, “We’ll take these and go for a little walk.”
    â€œI’ll add them to your tab,” said Johnny, looking back down at his receipts.
    The woman, Myra, cleared her throat. “I could take them over,” she said.
    â€œNah. Jess likes to do it. Needs to earn his keep.” Johnny didn’t look up from his addition.
    â€œIt’s fine. We don’t mind waiting.” Ilsa led Ani and Xavier from the general store and out into the parking lot. They kept to the side of the dirt road, as close to the trees as possible.
    â€œMaybe we’ll see a deer,” Ilsa said. “Or a rabbit.”
    â€œOr a tiger!” Ani’s mouth was already smeared with chocolate.
    The only sound other than their footsteps on gravel was the electric hum of bugs and the occasional caw - caw of crows.
    But soon Ilsa heard an engine up ahead and pulled them both sideways, off the road and onto a driveway, to wait for a pickup truck to pass. The driver waved at Ilsa and Ilsa waved back because that was what you did up north, to strangers and friends alike.
    Now they stepped back out toward the road and Ilsa looked ahead. For a moment she didn’t register what she saw.
    A large shape. Fur. Moving out from the trees and onto the road.
    A wolf? It was twenty feet ahead. No, too big to be a wolf.
    Bear. She squeezed Ani and Xavier’s hands and pulled them back. “Shit,” she said aloud, then looked down at the children. “Shh.”
    â€œTiger?” Ani whispered.
    â€œBear. Be still.”
    If only we hadn’t decided to go for a walk, Ilsa was thinking. The bear had been crossing the road and now it stopped, as if sensing them there. Of course it senses us. It probably smells us. Shit. Ilsa wondered if they should run. But you weren’t supposed to run away from bears, were you? Big. You were supposed to make yourself look big. She swept first Xavier and then Ani up into her arms. They jostled against each other and their legs dangled. Xavier giggled. “Shh,” Ilsa said again.
    Now the bear was looking at them, paused in the middle of the road, nose forward. She lifted her head—for suddenly Ilsa felt she was a she-bear. And what if she had a cub with her? Weren’t bears supposed to be especially dangerous if protecting a cub? Ilsa squeezed her children until Ani whispered, “Ow,” and tried to pull away. Ilsa squeezed harder. Xavier dropped his chocolate bar. The bear blinked at the movement and sound.
    The bear’s and Ilsa’s eyes were now locked. Are you supposed to make eye contact with bears? Ilsa wasn’t sure but would have been unable to look away regardless, even if the bear had started to advance. She had the panicky thought that maybe she was getting what she deserved. And she found herself wishing for Fiona, a sudden, little-girl-like urge. “Did you know that whenever you were scared when you were young, you would call out for Fiona?” Helen had once told her. “I don’t believe you,” Ilsa had said. “It’s true. It’s how I knew you loved her,” Helen had replied.
    Fiona would know exactly what we should do right now.
    The bear snorted, snorted, leaned toward them—and then shook her head from side to side and continued along her path across the road.
    Ilsa stood still for another moment, listening to the crack of branches under the bear’s paws. Then she put Ani and Xavier down and said, “Let’s go back.”
    â€œWas it a tiger?” Ani asked.
    â€œBear. Mama bear,” said Ilsa.
    Xavier: “Mama’s bear?”
    â€œNo, just . . . just a female bear. I think. I don’t know why I think that,