FSE

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As the wolverine to my left stands and places another log onto the small fire set into the round gravel pit at the center of the gathering, I find myself glad that no unpleasant smoky air is being blown by the night breeze. I feel the corners of my cheeks tug up as my vision is encroached upon by my cheeks, and turn my head towards the sky. Unlike home, the stars are vivid here and dense. The Milky Way is clearly visible. Amongst my reverie, I return my attention around the group.

Mostly experienced campers, some seated in cozy canvas folding chairs, others on larger logs not meant for the fire. I ask a hare halfway to the opposite side of the ring how often he camps.

"Well, all the time these days." Most of the group laughs in understanding. "I used to camp only a little bit. Work was in the way of it." The lagomorph stroked one of his long ears, a bit of a nervous tic it seemed. "But when I decided to camp in the King's Forest, fell asleep on the cold hard earth and woke up... well... here."

There's a general murmur of assent from the group. It seems it's a common thing for the campers of the Reserve.

The King's Forest is a slang term used mostly by locals, especially in the tourist industry. Regency Park has campgrounds, nature trails, and rivers for rafting. However, it's adjacent to some wildlands that are the de facto property of a prolific predator. The locals refer to him as The King of the Forest. However, my notes from my employer refer to him as Griff. My notes also seem persistent in misspelling 'bear' as 'burr', but my employer is an eccentric.

Look at where he sends me, after all.

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There are park rangers at Regency Park, and they know where the border is. It's only a bit of discussion before they realized I wanted to run into the bear, not avoid him. They seemed a bit confused, but gave me directions anyway.

With a pack loaded up with some snacks and extra water on my back and a pair of my best boots on my feet (woefully not actually hiking boots), I made the trek up the trail that crossed closest to the King's Forest.

My doc martens crunched on the myriad dried leaves in the late autumnal detritus of a forest path. I didn't intend to be stealthy, after all. The chill on the air left me rubbing my paws together. It was late afternoon when I heard another set of paws crunching leaves.

I turned, and beheld a large brown bear, feral in shape, standing in the shadows. He paused as he saw me turn, before continuing to approach. As he stepped into a beam of light penetrating the canopy above, I saw his eyes were expressive and warm.

I held up my arm. "Hey, are you Griff?"

Shocked, the bear sat his wide behind down with another loud crunch of dried underbrush. "Well, yes. Most people don't know my name unless I share it with them."

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After a late night chatting with the group of campers, I slept in a light sleeping bag on the soft ground. I didn't need a tent, and I didn't want one, spending the time until I passed out staring at the stars. Without that protection however, sunrise awoke me easily. Despite how little sleep I must have actually had, I was fully awake easily, and felt no sign of drowsiness.

The advantages of staying in a predscape are many.

Now I am sharing a small breakfast of pancakes cooked on cast iron held over the very same campfire we sat around the night before. I look around at the beautiful spring foliage on all the trees around and can't help but smile. At the other end of the clearing, a small group of feral deer walk along. Unlike previous times I have witnessed this, they give us anthros no mind. They know we aren't a threat.

After a nice time chowing down on pancakes, I give my goodbyes to the campers, as I have much more of the Reserve to explore. I pack away my sleeping bag easily, and start along a trail leading from the campsite.

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After discovering my purpose, Griff bemusedly led me back to where he called home. A large cave opening stood on the rocky hillside he guided me to. Assured by my research and the bear's warm demeanor that I had nothing to fear, I strode into the cavern. What awaited me was not what I expected at all. A Cozy conversation pit sort of arrangement had been set into a basin deeper into the cave with many modern cushions. An entertainment system sat next to it, and amongst the electronics it housed were a computer tower and game console, both hooked up to a large flat screen television.

Griff, however, didn't lead me to the soft seating arrangement just yet. With a casual 'grumph' sound, he sat down next to a large pile of perfectly balled yarn. "Most people don't want to get to know me like this before I eat them." He commented casually, plopping a clawed forepaw onto the curve of his belly.

I told him that was unfortunate, before asking about the yarn.

His smile lit up the cavern, as he reached over and plucked a crochet hook from amongst the balls. "Oh, I just enjoy making things. Would you like to see some of my crochet work?"

At his enthusiasm, I wasn't about to say no. He stood on all fours again, tucking the crochet hook away in the pile once more. Griff then made his way along the cave with a bounce in his step, quite impressive for his great size. It just added to the wobble of the heavy layer of pudge he wore. He was clearly well into his preparation for hibernation from his weight and round form.

Heading around the corner of the natural stone, I was graced with the sight of a display of many intricate pieces of woven yarn, many laid out, and others on sculpted forms of anthros. He sat back and beamed as I looked over the array of crafts he'd made. Despite my inexperience with the method, I could still appreciate the handiwork done by a bear with such large claws, which must have been some hindrance.

My jaw dropped when I noticed that there was another display nearby, of intricately folded paper crafts.

I heard Griff let out a happy 'grumph' as he gauged my reactions.