Contest Entry: Red Scar

Written to the prompt: Write about a polar bear.

Red Scar

Red Scar lazily stretched in the late afternoon sun. The warmth on her back and shoulders was exquisitely satisfying. She moaned softly, yawned, then reluctantly opened her eyes. Raising her heavy head, she glanced at the small patch of water twenty body-lengths away, sniffed the breeze for the rich scent of seal’s breath. Smelling only ice and sea, she yawned again and rested her heavy head on her paw. One will come soon, she thought as her heavy eyelids closed and she returned to dreams. One will come soon.

In her mind’s eye, she saw herself, strong and firm, fur still white with youth. She was crouched nearer the hole, her muscles taut with anticipation, her black eyes focused solely on the glassy surface. A bubble appeared, burst. Then a second. Red Scar grunted quietly. The two cubs behind her leaned forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. All three held their breath. The water began to undulate, then soft waves formed. A fat seal broke the surface and gulped for air. Before it could dive again, Red Scar lunged, stabbed her arm into the frigid water, caught the creature in the back with her long, curled claws, and hurled it onto the ice. In a single fluid motion, she dove atop the seal, wrapped its head in her jaws, and crushed its scull.

She looked at the cubs. That is how it is done, she thought. That is how it has always been done. Then she began to eat, savoring the sweet fat and the salty richness of the blood.

As she ate, the cubs paced hungrily just out of reach of her strong arms. Several times they tried to close in, grab a mouthful of meat, but she growled menacingly at their impatience and they moved away. When there was no room left in her stomach, when most of the fat was gone and only skin and tender muscle remained, she rose, nodding and grunting, then strode away from the carcass. The cubs flung themselves upon it and ate with frenetic glee.

Red Scar lay down and watched the cubs. They will do well on the ice, she thought, cleaning her paws. They are strong and healthy. They learn quickly. One more winter and they will be ready.

As she licked the blood from her claws, a strange sound caught her ear. She paused, tilted her head, listened. Something was faintly buzzing in the distance. She turned and stared at the horizon. Seeing nothing but shimmering hills of broken ice, she turned again to her cubs. They continued to feast on the seal. Just as she returned to grooming, the sound grew louder. A deep buzz. This time, she stood and stared across the hills. Spotting a dark spot low on the horizon, she strode over to the cubs. They had heard the sound, too, and had frozen, mouths agape, as the spot quickly grew. Red Scar's heart began pounding. It was a bird! An enormous bird! A bird the size of a whale! It was flying right at them.

With a loud growl, Red Scar called the cubs and began trotting quickly toward the end of the ice shelf, the cubs racing after her. Get to the sea, she thought. Get to the sea!

When a deep shadow passed over her, she began running, her claws biting into the ice. Frantic, she called to the cubs, heard the pounding of their paws, their strained breaths as they tried to keep up. Then the buzzing noise became a loud whine and the bird began to swoop towards her. Red Scar veered toward the sun, then back toward the sea. The bird’s shadow passed over her again. There was a loud "Pop" and she felt excruciating pain in her left shoulder.

“Run!” she barked to the cubs. “Run!” Then she felt herself tumbling in the snow, falling, falling into darkness. Then … nothing.

Red Scar jerked awake, her heart pounding. She was filled with fear. With loss. With longing. Frantically, she looked around. Where were her cubs? Where was the bird? Where was --?

Twenty body-lengths away, a seal broke the surface of the small patch of water. It gulped air. Red Scar looked at it, then blinked, and blinked again. She looked across the ice. The whale-bird was long gone. The cubs, too, many winters ago to hunt on their own. The sun was high and warm and felt wonderful on her old, yellowed coat.

Red Scar sighed, pawed the plastic tag in her ear, watched as the seal disappeared.

(760 words. Writen to the Writer's Cramp promp to "write about a polar bear")

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