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A premature article about a premature flight https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2025/07/05/diary-69-flight/

A desperate attempt to find a unifying theme for my visit to UKGE - Jubensha

[Editor's Note:]

La Feria de las Flores

By indiekid

It was dark by the time my bus arrived in Medellín. My first impression was of lights twinkling on either side of the road, lights which reached higher and higher up the hillsides as we approached our destination. We were soon driving through what felt like an upturned bowl of stars, the mountain peaks out of sight. Little did I know that, beyond those mountains, hundreds of boxes of flowers were being packed and distributed. I did know, however, that the Feria de las Flores (Festival of the Flowers), Colombia's largest festival, was just a few days away. It was hard to miss it: every television in every city was inviting people to Medellín with a series of catchy adverts. The city's reputation, however, once centred on something very different: for two decades it was the seat of that most absolute of monarchs, Pablo Escobar.

I'm going to start with an apology: considering this is an article about a flower festival it's not particularly visual. For security I mostly kept my camera locked away, and the festival was a bit crowded for good photography anyway. I've discussed this with my editor, Jubal, and we've agreed to put the following video in as an introduction, and there's another one to watch at the end.

After a hot and cockroach-ey night at a bus station hotel I made my way south to the suburb of El Poblado. The mid-morning sun was warm and the streets a quiet, leafy green. The traffic noise was swiftly replaced by birdsong, including that of two squabbling parrots. An avocado salesman rumbled his cart from door to door and cried "Aguacate!" at intervals. I buzzed my way into my hostel and was met by the receptionist Claudia, who invited me to add my rucksack to the growing heap behind the desk. Claudia would become a fixture of my mornings in Medellín, keeping the backpackers in check accompanied by her little son and big dog. My bed was not yet ready so I joined some other backpackers for a cup of tea. I, at least, was drinking tea; they were mostly on lager, as they had been since the previous evening.

My first priority was food, so I asked Claudia where I could buy some groceries. She recommended a supermarket up the road, but I returned empty-handed. It was the trendiest and most modern supermarket I had seen for a long time; it even had self-service checkouts. To me it was just gringo products at gringo prices, so I asked Claudia where I'd find a "real" market. Surprised, she took the map she had given me earlier and added in a little circle on the very edge of the tourist area: Minorista Market. It was an easy bus ride away and I enjoyed trawling the dozens of stalls with the locals (Medellín is much more diverse than its rival, the capital Bogotá). Colombia is home to a huge variety of fruit; earlier in my trip I had encountered a fruit bowl as part of a tour and found myself unable to name any of the contents. It got me thinking that, when it comes to tropical fruit, we in the UK are limited to what can be easily refrigerated and transported. In the Minorista Market I was able to buy a variety of beautifully fresh produce. I also picked up some arepas, a kind of maize flatbread, but had to ask Claudia's help in cooking them.

It was time to start exploring. Medellín (population 2.5 million) is a long, thin city built along a river of the same name. It has a modern (but sometimes crowded) metro system which also hugs the river for much of its length. I rode it north to the Plaza Botero, home to the Rafael Uribe Uribe Palace of Culture. This imposing black and white cathedral-like building was designed by the Belgian architect Agustín Goovaerts in the 1920s, but not completed until 1982. The building's dome is off-centre as though it was intended to be twice as long; the story goes that the architect fell out with the local government during construction. Also in the plaza are sculptures by Colombia's most revered artist, Fernando Botero. Botero is widely known for making things "fat", and this is initially apparent in the human and animal figures on display in the plaza. I was told, however, that the exaggeration of certain body parts was actually Botero's ploy to draw attention to each sculpture's true focus: the bits he left in normal proportions. I'm not sure if, in image-conscious Colombia, this would have been much comfort to the models who sat for him. Its effectiveness, however, was evidenced in some of the paintings in the adjoining Museo de Antioquia. A painting of Christ, for example, shows him wearing the crown of thorns and bleeding where it has cut him. Thanks to the size of the head in comparison to the face, the blood seems to go on and on forever. It's as if Botero has given every human sin its own drop. His most famous painting, however, is of the 1993 killing of Pablo Escobar in Medellín, and you can see it by following the link below. For what it's worth, I was not personally taken with Botero and preferred the more varied and subtle style of his contemporary, Luis Alberto Acuna.

Botero's "La muerte de Pablo Escobar".

On the far side of the city centre the metro links up with a cable car network, which climbs the steep slopes on either side of the valley. It boasts some impressive murals at its stations. My journey up towards the Arví Park took me above zig-zagging streets of square brick houses. This, I realised, was what a regenerated favela, or shanty town, looks like. After ascending about 800 meters the route abruptly levelled off. All around was a beautiful and varied Andean forest. The cable car dipped and rose approximately level with the treetops; the overall sensation was one of flying (enhanced by the fact that I was the only passenger by this point). My ride ended at a very smart visitor centre, but I felt I was a bit pushed for time to actually venture into the park.

I was lucky to have a guide to Medellín in the form of John, a digital nomad from the USA. John, like many others, had made the city a semi-permanent home and knew all the good hostels and shared workspace facilities. For his work the city was perfect: modern, well outfitted with WiFi, cheap, diverse, interesting and with great weather (its nickname is the "City of Eternal Spring"). John knew when the rowdy football games were on and where the underground salsa bars were hidden. His speciality, however, was taking groups from the hostel to Carrera 70, the main party street of the city and the festival. It was lined with bars which spilled out in a mess of balloons and silletas, wooden frames holding great round signs made entirely of flowers (we'll return to them later). A stage was set up at the end of the street showcasing everything from punk music to Argentine tango.

I had promised myself a bit of a break from intensive backpacking while in Medellín. My two week stay was unstructured and I barely wrote in my diary. I chilled out, went to the concert hall and took part in a chain writing project here on Exilian. Most of my time, however, was spent at the Table. I have capitalised it here as it was a uniquely accommodating social space - for those who were confident with spoken English, at least (I was, once again, one of the weaker Spanish speakers). The atmosphere of the hostel was neatly summed up by a German friend of mine:

"Oh yes," he said, "As soon as I saw this was a 'party hostel' I knew there would be a lot of British people here."

I buried my head in my hands and hoped that the conversation would not turn to Brexit. We returned, instead, to one of our favourite topics: which of the Colombian lagers was most like urine (after a few days at the Table they all tasted equally bad). Another favourite topic was cocaine, which in Medellín flows in rivers. It was common, in the mornings, to see hung-over backpackers attempting to sell on their left-overs to avoid them "going to waste" ahead of an upcoming flight (Claudia took a dim view of this).

One night we all left the Table together and piled into taxis. We got held up at a roadblock where some police officers half-heartedly checked our passports (they did not discover that several of us had, sensibly, left them locked in the hostel). We then drove on to a popular night club, which had several busy rooms with DJs playing different versions of reggaeton music. I made many more backpacker friends in the club's large garden. There was a problem, however: everyone was very tall. This, combined with the background noise, meant that the conversation was going right over my head. Emboldened by lager and the sociable atmosphere I approached the only other short person in sight and engaged him in conversation. He was not particularly keen to chat: he turned out, in fact, to be the local drug dealer.

At about 4 am I left the club in pursuit of fried chicken. The streets of El Poblado were, as I had been promised, absolutely buzzing. I had no difficulty finding a food outlet and strolled happily down the main street, where the clubs had spilled out into a huge gathering of young Colombians. A man approached me with a big wooden tray, a common sight in the city, loaded with snacks and chewing gum. I politely waved him away but, to my surprise, he kept approaching. With a big clownish grin on his face he nudged the tray right into me and pushed me to one side with it. We laughed together at the joke but, when we parted, I realised something was amiss: he had swiped the phone from my right trouser pocket. I kept walking, humiliated, and he vanished into the crowd. It was a clever trick, but not clever enough: the phone in that pocket was a decoy, an old broken thing intended as a distraction. My real phone was tucked safely in a pouch under my shirt. Listen to your parents, folks.

I was more shaken by the incident than I cared to admit. I was frustrated at my poor judgement and the loss of my decoy phone, which I had actually planned to use as a defence against mugging. I spent the morning trying to make a new one out of an old phone case, some coins and sellotape. My story spread around the hostel as the morning wore on and the residents began to sober up. It got back to the one person I was hoping to keep it from.

"Richard!" cried Claudia as I tiptoed across the lobby, "I'm sorry but that is very stupid. I told you not to walk alone at night in El Poblado!"

I looked at my feet; there was no defence. I wondered if we backpackers are like toddlers: discovering our limits by pushing against them. The part of me that wanted to test myself against El Poblado had evaporated, and I'm glad to finally get it off my chest. I made sure my next adventure was much more tame.

~

Along with John and several others from the hostel I booked a place on a tour of Santa Elena, the township to the East of Medellín which is the true home of the Flower Festival. I had been told that the festival traces its origins to one Santa Elena resident's decision to carry his wares to market in Medellín on his back. This was an exaggeration at best: it was common for people to make this journey on foot with their loads (which could even include sick family members) on wooden chair-like frames. These frames, known as silletas, are now used exclusively to show off the region's flowers.

Our bus left Medellín and wound its way up hairpins to the relatively flat region above the city. It was a climb of around 800 meters and the temperature dropped noticeably. Our tour guide had provided each of us with a scarf and white paisa hat, the latter named after the people of the Antioquia region. I did wonder if our guide had a sense of humour: the disc-shaped hats were hopeless in windy mountain weather. On several occasions a gust caused the group to lose them en masse and have to run around in pursuit. As for the tour itself, we stopped first at a large statue of a silletero with his load and then drove on to a farm. The last part of this journey was done on foot along a dirt track with beautiful hedgerows on either side. The colonial-style farm building had been part-converted into a museum. In its expansive kitchen we sat down for a traditional meal, which included a local speciality: hot chocolate with a lump of cheese melted in it (an unpleasant and surprisingly greasy experience). The house overlooked the flower fields, where a vast number of species, from tall sunflowers to daisy-sized numbers, were displayed together (Colombia is actually the second most biodiverse country in the world). Exploring this garden was the highlight of the tour, and you can see why in the following picture.



Most of the farm's flowers had already been picked, boxed and delivered to Santa Elena's residents. They were busy spending the precious few days before the big parade attaching the flowers to their silletas in complex and beautiful designs. The catch was that each silletero would receive just one type of flower in their box. The event would start, therefore, with some frantic trading involving the whole community. This would have been going on at about the time I rolled into Medellín by bus the previous week.

My next tour was to Medellín's Comuna Trece, which translates as District 13. This impoverished part of the city was notorious for gang violence in the 20th and early 21st centuries, but is now - bizarrely - a tourist attraction. In the past couple of decades a combination of investment and grassroots community efforts have transformed the area, succeeding where violent military assaults failed. It was a focal point of the city's cocaine trade and the associated violence (Escobar's shadow looms large here), but the streets have been regenerated and are now full of dancers and artworks.

Our guide for the afternoon was Bryan, a resident who had taught himself to speak what he called "Street English" and later turned out to be a rapper. Before leading us up the hill into his neighbourhood he asked us not to give money to any of the children who would show off their dance moves to us. Giving to adult street performers, he said, would be fine, but the children should be encouraged to stay in school. Our first few stops were at pop-up street dance shows; we were evidently expected, but this was part of the fun. As we walked further the street art became progressively bigger, louder and more colourful. Some of the works were reproduced in the many eccentric souvenir shops.

We stopped at a small museum where the horror of the gang wars was brought to life. At one point the army was sent in but failed to eradicate the gangs. In the interest of claiming a victory the government secretly made deals with some of the gang leaders, so a false peace was created for a few months. As the buildings of the area became more and more damaged the street artists set to work claiming the wreckage as their own in protest. Most harrowing of all, however, was Bryan's own story of a gunfight from his childhood. He and his brother were watching from their window when a combatant backed right up their house to shelter by the wall. Seeing the boys looking out of the window, he told them to move for their own safety. They did so but, when they looked again, the man was dead.

Much of the investment in Comuna Trece has been spent on infrastructure: metro lines, a cable car and a series of public escalators traversing the steep slopes. At the top of the hill is a - relatively - big road on concrete stilts, and it was here that the tour ended. We had ice cream and enjoyed the sunset views over the city. I had time to follow the road away from the crowds to where things were quieter. Strangely quiet. Looking back along the road I could see what an engineering marvel it was and, from the footprint of the stilts, how many homes must have been demolished to make way for it. Just as I was reflecting on the ongoing costs of regeneration I abruptly reached the end of the road. It was unfinished, which explained the lack of traffic. A tall metal fence separated it from an older, dustier track.  I peeked through and saw rubbish spilling out of abandoned brick buildings. A chicken strode defiantly across the road.

Some of my friends at the hostel were heading to a party called "Gringo Mike's Big Gringo Tuesday". I turned it down as I had more important plans for the morning: a visit to the Botanical Gardens. (I was later vindicated in my decision when an Australian friend described the evening as "Just a big gringo f**kfest, to be honest".) I arrived at the ticket office early in the morning but had still failed to beat the queue. The gardens themselves were interesting but they were not what I'd come to see. They put on a special festival of their own every year,  which celebrates flowers from Colombia and beyond. These include some amazing flower sculptures, and the centrepiece this year was a wooden boat listing dangerously in a stormy sea of blue and white. I also enjoyed seeing some fat pitcher plants and the creative arrangements of tulips made by various tulip societies. It wasn't just the flowers that were beautifully decked out: many visitors had brought their highly accessorised dogs along.



The big day was nearly upon us. As a warm-up, much of the city was closed off for an enormous parade of classic cars. To my surprise this parade was led by perhaps a dozen of the city's bin lorries, polished up to perfection. Following these was a seemingly endless stream of cars, and my most vivid memory is of watching them negotiate a tricky speed bump. The next day I rose early and donned my new flowery shirt, paisa hat and garland of plastic flowers (I had acquired the latter in some nightclub or other). It was time for the cultural phenomenon which had first brought me to Medellín: the Desfile de Silleteros.

I found a good spot among the crowds lining a main road. The parade was opened by a single vintage car carrying three or four elderly people. They were dressed in white and had red scarves tied around their heads. These were some of the original silleteros who had taken part in the first parade in 1957. They were followed by a series of warm up acts: some police officers with their dogs; a terrifying armoured police vehicle (with flowers); a troupe of what I took to be Brazilian Carnaval performers. Finally the first silleteros appeared: the children who had competed in the junior category. Each carried a wooden silleta of the traditional form: a sort of stepped wooden backpack overflowing with flowers. They were chaperoned by members of the Scout Association, who kept them supplied with water and relieved them of their loads occasionally.

Next up came a lone woman, bent under the weight of her 70 Kg silleta. She carried her paisa hat in her hand because her head was busy with a strap supporting some of the weight. She had a huge grin on her face and was waving her hat to draw more and more cheering from the crowd. Every so often she span around to show off the enormous circular design on her back. It was a riot of colours and textures consisting of more flower varieties than I could possibly name. This silletera's name was María Claudia Atehortúa and she was the overall winner of the Feria de las Flores 2023.

After María came the rest of the silleteros who had competed in the emblemática category. These were the circular ones which I had grown used to and were all spectacular. There were several other categories: tradicional, which the children had been carrying; commercial in which the logos of sponsors, including Coca-Cola, were reproduced in flowers and monumental. The latter lived up to their name: wooden constructs burst out of a - usually - circular base; they were much bigger and heavier than the others. My favourite was an enormous lion's head with a mane of what looked like grasses gone to seed. The silleteros were evidently enjoying themselves, and every so often they'd put their loads down so that they could fully show them off. One man went right up to the crowd, reached in and emerged with his son in his arms; they waved to everyone together. It was a joy to watch the paraders pass by and transform from exhausted people under heavy loads to flowery, tortoise-like creatures once viewed from behind. It was a testament to both human ingenuity and human endurance. In the silleteros' six kilometre walk through the chequered streets of Medellín there was a sense of defiance, love and hope. Yet there was frailty as well: in every flower that fell from a silleta I was reminded that these beautiful artworks were temporary, and would be lost until the cycle began again for the next year's Feria.

I had time for one more adventure before leaving Medellín. I turned my nose up at the Pablo Escobar museum, which is run for profit by members of his family, and at the associated theme park and zoo. I set off instead on foot through El Pobaldo to the Museo El Castillo. This mansion was built by the architect Nel Rodríguez in the style (for some reason) of a French château. I arrived at the ornate gateway and saw a long curving driveway bordered by tall conifer trees. These, like many of the plants in the grounds, were covered in ghostly cobwebs of Spanish Moss (a sort of creeper which is neither Spanish nor moss). The whole place was reminiscent of the enchanted château in Disney's version of Beauty and the Beast. I brought my entry ticket for seventy thousand pesos: I would later learn that, back in the 1930's when the house was built, that sum would have bought me the entire property.

Inside I had a tour of the grand rooms and eclectic collection of (mostly European) oddities. My guide's use of the English language concealed a razor-sharp wit, and I'd like to share some of his descriptions with you:

"This is the only original carpet in the house which you can walk on, so please make the most of it."

"If you ask me how much the chandelier is actually worth, well I cannot tell you: my boss doesn't want me to know!"

"In this room we have a collection of seven hundred silver spoons donated to the family by a rich auntie. If you ask me why she donated them, well I can tell you: she was very rich and she had too many spoons."

I was reminded of a tour guide in Spain who had repeatedly referred to us, his audience, as his "family". A part of me had wondered if I should point out that the word isn't usually used in this context. I decided there was no need to be a killjoy and, if my new friend wanted to refer to me as family, who was I to stop him? The English language, I reasoned, belonged as much to these non-native speakers as it did to me - perhaps more so.

~

I was up early on the morning of my departure. The backpackers of the hostel - including, at last, some Colombians - were all fast asleep. Over breakfast at the Table I made one more friend: a French backpacker, who arrived, as many of us had, looking shell-shocked from their first metro journey. She asked me about safety in the area and my answer, unfortunately, got back to the one person I was hoping to keep it from.

"So, Richard," said Claudia during checkout, "You don't think El Poblado is safe?"

I thought for a moment. Of all the people I had met in Medellín, Claudia was the most proud of her city and how far it had come. In the backpacker community, however, my encounter with the pickpocket was by no means an isolated incident.

"I'm sorry, Claudia," I said, "But I don't."

Perhaps, had I stayed in Medellín longer, my assessment might have changed. Perhaps I could have given the Digital Nomad lifestyle a shot after all. The Highlands of Colombia, however, were calling me, and I couldn't miss my date with the world's tallest palm trees. I did not look back.

The seriousness of the history I've presented here was not lost on me during my visit to Medellín. My objective in this article was the juxtaposition of the old and the new; the violent and the beautiful; the cultural and the sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll. I have not presented events in chronological order and there may be factual inaccuracies - please shout if you spot them. In the interest of brevity I've omitted a lot of detail: the police officers in the parade, for example, were actually on bicycles, and had their dogs sitting to attention in little doggy side-cars. It's unexpected joys like these, especially when flowering out of hardship, that make travel worthwhile. I hope this article has motivated you to put a bag on your back, go somewhere new, and see some more of this crazy, kaleidoscopic world in which we live.


Links

Here's the promised "further watching", specifically the opening, minute 6:30 and minute 10:00 of this vlog by the Mexican backpacker Alan X El Mundo:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiSNmmEQqIg


Editor's Note: More of indiekid's travels in the Americas can be found in his piece on travels in southern Chile, and in a two-part article on the Mexican leg of his trip with part one here and part two here.

Why the annual UK Games Expo is important to me https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2025/05/27/diary-67-seasons/

A new playtesting experience https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2025/04/21/diary-66-lets-iterate/

Thanks for this Jubal! Glad you liked the bears, I had to work hard to avoid a sentence which opened "Mina and the Three Bears...". And good spot on the typo - seem to remember a similar one about rein vs reign recently.

I was hoping to portray the children's ages (ish) through their behaviour. Everything here is approximate - I deliberately haven't named the world or "The City". In each episode Mina will be about the age Roy was in the previous one. It's an interesting point about their awareness of nudity. Since Maxwell was mute, we could argue by the same logic that the children would also be unable to speak. Since this is a fantasy I think we can brush it under the carpet. The shoes are important, but from your comment perhaps I laid it on a bit thick. They're supposed to represent the two worlds the Earthwitch is caught between: the natural and the human. Through then we learn that Roy is managing this transition better than Mina.

I'm actually quite pleased that you're still finding Idyil morally ambiguous at this point. This was certainly the objective in part 1. In part 2 I was more going for a reluctant parent figure who, lacking in confidence, finds the children are running rings around them. In the latter point I've drawn directly on my own experiences as a teacher. I've tried to drop clues about Idil into it: look for the point in part 1 where Idil uses force to control the children, and in part 2 where she reveals her own feelings regarding the animal torture and, as she puts it,  "loses control".

Sorry I missed your comment Jubal - thanks that is an interesting use of the prefix. I suppose it is still beyond national but not above it.

I'm not completely happy with this but I wanted to get it out there. It's taken far longer than I expected. I think the difficulty came from Mina and Roy now being old enough to make decisions and alter the events of the story. I cut out a lot but I'm worried it still feels rushed, especially when the characters leave the forest and meet the crowd of people. Would be interested to hear feedback.

Part 2

Mina walked along the riverbank, keeping her distance from Roy. She had not been to this part of the forest before, and she enjoyed the freedom of exploring and feeling alone with it. The river was deep and slow here; the ground rose steeply on both sides. In the spaces between the tress some clumps of small, blue flowers grew, their stems drooping with the weight of many heads. Mina liked these flowers: liked to bend down and prop them upright with her fingers. They inevitably drooped down again, bobbing apologetically. Idil had told her that the flowers liked sunlight, but today the distant sky was grey. The flowers, in fact, grew for only a few weeks each summer. They were lucky, Idil had said, that the forest's spirit had chosen this time to wake.

Walking was hard for Mina because she was still getting used to the shoes Idil had given her. She had to concentrate to avoid tripping over or squashing the flowers by accident. Her feet slid around with every step – Idil had told her the shoes were slightly too big so that, as her feet grew, they would become more comfortable. Mina didn't see any reason to wear the shoes but Idil got very cross when she didn't, so she knew she had to practise. Roy had been wearing shoes much longer than she and almost never took them off. Thinking this, she looked up to see where he had got to. Her eye was caught by some broken stems ahead: Roy had stepped in the middle of a patch of flowers without a care. Mina thought, once again, of telling him to look after the forest better: he was always breaking things, cutting them up and throwing them away. Even now he was standing at a tree with his back to her, running his fingers over the bark, no doubt thinking of what he could use it for. She hurried to catch up.

"There's a scratch here," said Roy, without looking at her, "And here."

Mina followed his fingers on the tree. A long groove ran vertically on the trunk and fresh brown splinters stood out against the grey bark. Similar scratches, less deep than the first, ran on either side. Mina could imagine making a similar pattern with her nails.

"Was it an animal?" she asked.

"I think so," Roy replied, "And it's recent. It must..."

Roy stopped, interrupted by a sound. Mina had heard it too: a footfall, followed by a quiet sliding on the hill beyond the trunk of the tree. It came again, and a third time, then stopped. Mina found her breath had caught in her throat. She was aware of something big just out of sight. Her eyes were fixed on Roy: he was crouching with one hand on the tree, his ear turned towards the noise. He kept very still, but motioned his free hand towards her. Understanding his meaning Mina knelt where the roots of the tree would keep her out of sight. Her shoe slid as she did so, scraping the forest floor audibly. She felt her cheeks flush and her heart start to hammer in her chest. Roy would be so frustrated with her! She strained her ears, hoping that the animal beyond the tree had not heard her. Kneeling she could only see Roy's back and the roots of the tree. She could hear nothing of the animal, and time seemed to stretch out until she felt they would never be able to leave their hiding place.

Eventually Roy leant forwards once again. With both hands on the tree's roots he stretched his head to look beyond the trunk. When he turned back to Mina, his eyes were wide.

"It's a bear," he mouthed.

Mina did not know much about bears, but she knew they were big. She wasn't sure why Roy looked so happy. He had turned back to look at the bear, and was rummaging with one hand in his pack. He drew out some of his dry fruit and, to Mina's horror, held it out near the base of the tree.

"Come on," he whispered, shaking his hand gently.

Mina's curiosity grew. Reluctant to stand up, she stretched until she could see around Roy and into the forest. The bear was very close – and much smaller than she had expected. It was, she realised, a cub: dark brown in colour and with long, strong forelegs. Its head was close to the ground and its beady black eyes and moist nose were fixed on Roy's outstretched hand.

"That's it," he said, encouragingly.

The bear approached slowly, sniffing as it came. Mina became aware of a movement to her left and turned, finding herself face to face with another bear. This one was smaller than the first and had fur which, to Mina, seemed too big for it: hair stuck out in all directions. This bear was standing on one of the roots of the tree, level with Mina's head. It was sniffing her curiously, black nose towards her towards her. She tried to move out of its way but it kept coming.

"Roy!" she squeaked.

"Well don't be scared," he said.

She managed to steal a glance at him. He was leaning against the tree, looking calm and relaxed, with the first bear grazing on the fruit he'd left on the ground. He held out his hand and gave her a few pieces of fruit.

"See if it's hungry," he said.

Mina held the fruit out towards the bear in the palm of her hand. It immediately stopped sniffing at her and looked hesitantly at the fruit. Mina brought her hand closer to it. The bear looked over at the other, saw it was still tucking in and, after one final sniff, thrust its head onto Mina's palm. In its eagerness it pushed the fruit right off.

"Oh you silly!" she giggled, picking the fruit up with her free hand.

The bear tried to reach the fruit again and succeeded; Mina could feel its warm tongue on her skin. It chewed contentedly for a while and, when it had finished, walked over to the larger cub. The latter looked pointedly at Roy, then the two bears walked away from the tree, back up the hill.

"Don't go," murmured Mina.

The bears stopped, side by side. As one they looked back over their shoulders at the children.

"I think," whispered Roy, "They want us to follow them."

Mina, delighted, had to resist the urge to laugh. She let Roy stand first and, when she saw that the bears did not take fright, followed suit. Again the bears turned and set off up the hill. Mina looked at Roy and, seeing her own excitement reflected in his face, followed. The younger cub glanced over its shoulder, as if to check they were following, but did not break its stride.

The climb was steep and, with the dead leaves and twigs underfoot, slippery. The bears set a brisk pace straight up the hill, making no effort to avoid the exposed branches which Mina and Roy, tall as they were, had to navigate. The canopy seemed to close overhead and a musty smell filled their nostrils. Branches tugged at Mina's clothes and hair and she was soon out of breath; she was determined, however, to keep pace without asking Roy for help.

It wasn't long before the slope levelled off and they reached a clearing. A big tree lay on its side, exposed to daylight. Its leaves had all come off and its branches – those that weren't squashed beneath it – were pointing all around, some into the forest and some up to the sky. The bears broke into a run and raced to the trunk, using their claws to scramble onto it in flurry of noise and splinters. Mina and Roy wasted no time in following them, but while Roy knew how to climb in his strong shoes, Mina struggled. By the time she hauled herself onto the trunk Roy and the bears were already making their way along it. To Mina It was clear the bears wanted to play and she was missing out. She reached out for the first vertical branch she could see and swung around it in pursuit. She could hear Roy laughing up ahead, but couldn't see what the bears were doing. She reached for more branches and closed the gap quickly but, at the last moment, caught her foot and fell. Instinctively she reached out, grabbing a branch with one hand and Roy's back with another. Roy, unprepared, fell too.

Mina landed with both knees on the rough bark of the tree. A moment later she heard a loud thump as Roy hit the forest floor. She took a moment to collect herself, and found that her hand was tingling where she had grabbed at Roy. Disorientated, she decided to get off the tree for a moment. She dug her fingers into the bark and slid herself down to ground level on her belly. When her feet touched the ground she looked down at her knees and found both were scratched, one with a little blood showing.

"Ow," she said, "Roy?"

There was no answer. She looked about her: the tree and its branches offered many good hiding places, as did the rest of the forest. She wasn't sure exactly where Roy had fallen.

"Roy?" she called again, "I'm sorry."

He couldn't be hurt, she reasoned, because he hadn't fallen far. He also shouldn't be angry with her: she had only fallen because of her shoes. He must have landed then hidden himself as part of the game. She had lost sight of the bears as well. She became aware of a cool wind on her back and its rustling in the branches above her head. Suppressing a shiver she resolved to look for Roy, and ducked down to check among the lower branches.

Mina emerged on the far side of the tree to find the ground sloping upwards into even thicker forest. She was about to call for Roy again when she saw the bears pawing at the ground near the trunk of the tree. There was something distinctive on the ground there: something of a colour that didn't belong in the forest. It was Roy's clothes, laid out perfectly where his legs, torso and arms should have been. There was, however, no Roy. Mina's alarm turned to annoyance: not only had Roy hidden from her, he was showing off by taking his clothes off too! He had even left his pack. She turned back to the forest, reasoning that he would at least be easier to spot if he was all naked. A few moments passed and, though she scanned the trees carefully, she could not see him.

Mina returned her attention to the bears. They had stopped pawing the ground and were looking intently at Roy's shirt. Their twitching noses almost met above a small mound beneath the fabric. The mound moved. Intrigued, Mina joined the bears, ignoring the pain in her knees and kneeling down beside them. The mound moved again and the three of them moved with it. Mina could see movements, like those of tiny legs, within the mound. The creature – for Mina was sure it was so – moved clumsily to one side of the shirt, then back to the other. The folds of the shirt stretched around it, restricting its motion. Finally it moved deliberately towards the neck end. Mina wanted to reach out and pull the shirt away but felt she, like the bears, should stay very still. The creature reached the collar of the shirt and paused, lifting it carefully. A tiny black nose appeared and the bears bent down to meet it, sniffing as they did so. The nose sniffed back and began to advance forwards. The rest of a furry brown head appeared, complete with beady black eyes. Mina felt her skin erupt in goosebumps as the creature continued to push its way out into the open.

"Roy," she squealed, when she had found her voice, "You're a bear!"

Roy was, indeed, a bear. He was a little smaller than the younger cub and his coat a shade darker, but he could have otherwise passed for another sibling. He stretched his paws one after the other, apparently afraid to step off his shirt. His nose and eyes twitched in every direction at once. The older bear cub brought its head close to Roy and made some quiet grunting noises. The younger, meanwhile, turned and took a few deliberate steps into the forest before looking back at Roy. Roy calmed himself down and Mina had the distinct impression he was preparing to follow the bears' example. After a few moments he plucked up the courage to step out onto the leaf litter. Mina watched as Roy got used to his new body, climbing some way uphill, then downhill, then in circles, getting faster as he did so. His nose sniffed everything. Eventually he caught some stronger scent and moved with renewed purpose – towards her, this time. He came right up to her feet, then brought his head upwards. She bent down to meet him, unable to contain her smile.

"You're a bear," she said again.

The older cub was suddenly crouching in front of Roy. Something passed between them that Mina couldn't understand, some combination of grunts and head movements. Roy stretched his new limbs and climbed up onto the cub. His legs were long enough to grip tightly onto its back, and it rose to walk again. Mina laughed and watched as the cub carried Roy in an arc around the tree; Roy seemed to enjoy this new perspective on the forest, and was moving his head to drink it all in. Mina felt something warm against her bare leg. The younger cub had come back to her, and was attempting to stand on its hind legs by supporting itself on the tree trunk.

"Do you want a ride as well?" she asked.

The cub stretched up to Mina's waist and leant its weight against her. She took this as an answer and got down on all fours.

"Come on then!" she said.

The cub grabbed at Mina's back and she yelped with pain as its claws sunk in. Before she knew it, however, the cub was safely on her. It had fitted itself on her snugly; it was surprisingly heavy and she could feel its heart beating rapidly. She looked around for Roy and the other bear, finding them at the edge of the clearing. She followed, gritting her teeth against the pain in her knees and back.

The four of them had a happy time exploring the forest at a trot. The older bear cub was very good at finding interesting things to look at: loose roots, new buds and moss-covered branches. Mina enjoyed racing with her new friends, though the slope was steep in places and traversing it on all fours was difficult. Their games, however, were over as quickly as they had begun. Running down a leaf-strewn bank together the four of them slipped and tumbled. In the confusion Mina became aware of something big sliding with them. The smaller bear cub left her back and she just caught sight of it darting away in the trees. The big object slid behind her: Roy had turned back into a boy. He let out a little cry of pain and Mina heard him brushing leaves to the floor.

"Roy," she said, unable to see him, "You're back?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why did the bears run away?" She asked.

"Maybe they'll come back."

Mina stood and realised she couldn't remember which direction the bears had gone. Roy was behaving strangely: poking his head from behind a tree to look at her.

"That was amazing," She said, walking towards him.

"Don't come over here!" he said abruptly.

"Why not?"

"I haven't got any clothes on."

Mina stopped in her tracks. She couldn't understand why Roy was so upset: she had seen him naked lots of times, especially when they lived at the beach. Thinking of the beach, however, made her think of Maxwell, which she didn't want to do. She was still curious about the bears.

"You didn't need clothes when you were a bear!" she said.

"No," he replied, "And I didn't miss them."

"Can you do it again?"

"I don't think I did it in the first place."

Roy looked at his arms, turning his hands over several times and flexing them. He frowned and shook his head.

"Your hands are very dirty," said Mina.

"So are yours," he shot back, "You're dirty all over. We should have a bath."

"In the river?" she asked, relieved to find she could still see it between the trees.

"Yes."

"Good idea!" she said, reaching down and pulling her frock over her head.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Taking my clothes off," she replied, "Because we're having a bath, aren't we?"

"Yes but you don't need to..." Roy paused and shook his head again, "Never mind. Race you to the river!"

Mina, however, was already running towards it, dressed as the Earth had intended.

*

Mina sat by the river, her legs stretched out in front of her and her toes lightly brushing a clump of flowers. The river was wide here and she could see the big stones resting on its bed. Roy was somewhere behind her, making little splashing noises in the water. They hadn't spoken for a while; they didn't need to. They knew this place: it was here that Idil had once forced them to help with her boring "meditations". On that occasion they had been eager to leave but now, as the warmth of the afternoon turned to evening, they were content to wait. Mina's skin felt cool after her bath, except where her sore knees throbbed a little. She was sure they would be fine in no time, but she still didn't feel like playing any more. In fact, with the murmuring of the water in her ears, she was beginning to think about lying down.

A movement from upstream caught her eye: Idil was coming towards them. She moved quickly through the forest, her dark form flowing from one shadow to the next. She picked the easiest path without needing to look where she was going; Mina noticed that she didn't tread on any flowers. Mina stood and waved, and Idil waved back.

"Hello Mina," she called, clearing the undergrowth and slinging her pack to the ground, "I'm glad I found you here. This is a special place, isn't it?".

"Yes!" Mina replied.

"And what have you two been doing today?"

"We had a bath," said Mina, proudly.

"What a good idea," Idil smiled, "And did you wash your clothes?"

"Oh."

Mina looked down at her frock and saw that, as well as being dirty, it was covered in tiny holes. They must have been made by the bear cub while it was clinging to her back: she had put the frock on back to front.

"Well, never mind," laughed Idil.

"And Roy turned into a bear!" said Mina, surprised that she had forgotten.

"Roy did what?" asked Idil, her smile frozen on her face.

"Roy turned into a bear! He did. We met two bears in the forest and they took us to a tree. Then Roy turned into a bear too and they taught him how to be a bear. He was a good bear."

Mina beamed, so excited about telling the story that she was quite out of breath. Idil, however, did not look happy.

"Is this true?" she asked Roy.

"Yes," said Roy, bashfully.

Idil walked to Roy and he avoided looking her in the eye.

"Give me your hand, please, Roy."

Roy reluctantly held it out; Idil took it in hers and closed her eyes. Mina moved to join them but Roy turned and glared at her.

"Go away!" he said.

Mina, stung, made a detour to the riverbank, hoping this would look like her intended destination after all. She listened carefully to Idil.

"I believe you did," Idil said, after a moment.

"Did the Spirit do it?" asked Roy.

Idil did not answer immediately. She let go of Roy's hand and looked out over the river.

"Spirits do not act, Roy," she began, "At least, not in ways we might recognise. I do not understand it: this spirit is content, close to slumbering. It remains so, despite your actions."

Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Mina could hear her heart beating in her ears. It was Idil who broke it, raising her voice a little more than was natural.

"Still, what a treat! What was it like being a bear?"

"It was, um, interesting," said Roy, smiling at last, "It was like I could see everything, even the ground underneath me. But I was smelling it, really, I had a very good nose, and legs," he flexed his hands, "And claws. I was strong".

"Great," said Idil, "Can you show me where this happened?"

"Yes!" cried Mina.

Without waiting for the others Mina strode towards the hill again; as the ground rose to meet her she felt a sudden urge to walk like a bear. She dropped to all fours and crawled across the leaf litter. If Roy had been strong, she reasoned, she could be strong too.

"This way!" she said.

"Mina!" called Idil, "What are you forgetting?"

Mina stopped, sat down, and looked back. Idil and Roy were slowly gathering their things; they hadn't even tried to follow her yet. She suddenly felt quite silly sitting on the ground, and became aware of her newly-dirtied hands and feet. Idil didn't expect her to have another bath, did she?

"Put your shoes on, silly," said Roy, throwing them to her.

Mina, frustrated, pulled at the shoes and tried to squeeze her foot into the too-hard heel of the first. As she did so Roy and Idil set off past her; she could see them smiling. She tied the laces as fast as she could then, as she stood, realised that one of them was loose. The others were already some way up the hill, their big strides taking them easily over the obstacles in the forest. Mina set off after them, but didn't catch up until they were all within sight of the fallen tree.

"Oh," said Idil sadly, "This tree has been cut".

Mina saw that Idil was right: the bottom of the tree trunk was the smooth orange-brown of freshly cut wood. Mina thought for a moment of people, but she was still much more interested in bears. So while Idil and Roy went to inspect the tree and its stump she set off underneath the branches again. It was by now very dark there, and her way was obstructed by leaves and hanging cobwebs. She remembered the adventure of the afternoon clearly, was sure she would find their tracks from earlier. She emerged from the darkness of the tree and found the place where Roy had fallen. Idil and Roy were stooping over the base of the tree, talking quietly.

"It was over here!" she called, triumphantly.

Idil and Roy looked up, and their faces were much angrier than Mina had expected. Roy had even turned a little bit white.

"Mina," said Idil, urgently, "Don't move."

"What?" she asked, "Why..."

Idil interrupted her by raising her hand sharply. Mina became aware of a shadow around her, darker even than the oncoming night. Some instinct told her to keep her eyes fixed on Idil. Idil, however, was not looking directly at her. Mina sensed the shadow moving and heard great, soft paws stepping on the forest floor. Something knotted in her stomach as a huge form moved past her. From the corner of her eye she saw two enormous legs, then a seemingly endless coat of fur and finally two more legs, broad and powerful, bringing up the rear. The bear approached Idil slowly and deliberately; it was almost as tall as she even on all fours. Idil stepped forward to meet the bear with her hand outstretched. The bear moved and Mina was convinced it was going to bite Idil, but instead it rested its jaw against her hand for a moment, then shook its head. Quiet noises came from its throat: a guttural pleading. It brushed its head against Idil for a second time. She knelt and brought both hands to its face.

"There, there," she whispered, looking the bear in the eye, "I'm sorry. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. The spirit is resting; I'm just Idil now."

The bear, as if upset by her words, groaned louder and rubbed its head more vigorously in her hands.

"She wants my help with something." Idil said, without looking away from the bear.

Mina felt something wet on the back of her hand and, looking down, found the little bear cub rubbing its snout against her. She knelt down and stroked its course fur and it responded as its mother had, rolling its head.

"Hello, you," Mina whispered, conscious of the weight of the conversation between Idil and the mother bear, "Where is your brother?"

She felt, however, that she knew the answer. Looking up, she saw the older bear cub some way up the slope at the edge of the deeper darkness of the trees; Roy was close behind. The smaller bear began to nudge her forward with its snout.

"Can we go where the bears are going?" asked Roy, "Please?"

"No," said Idil firmly, "I have told you about intervening. The spirit is resting and we will not risk..."

"But I don't want to intervene," interrupted Roy, "The bears have something to show us. And teach us."

Roy was edging closer to the trees and the bear had almost disappeared into them; Mina decided to set off after them.

"Roy, stay here please," said Idil.

"But we're supposed to listen to the Earth!" he replied, "Aren't we?"

The mother bear stepped away from Idil abruptly and walked up the hill. Idil sighed and rose to her feet.

"Alright," she said, "We will see what is bothering them, but we cannot help. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Roy.

"Yes!" cried Mina, excited to be playing with the bears again.

They set off in a loose line up the slope, higher than Mina and Roy had ventured that afternoon. Mina stayed at the back and watched how her cub moved, making a note of how best to walk on four legs, yearning to try again. She caught the occasional glimpse of Roy and his bear up ahead, zigzagging to find the best route up the slope. This part of the forest was not as dark as she had expected and she soon realised why: the trees were thinning out. Ahead she could see the evening sky and Roy, Idil and the two bears had stopped by the last of the trees.

Mina started to wonder if Idil had been right, after all, about staying put. She could not remember exactly when they had arrived in the forest but she knew she did not want to leave. After a few moments she joined the others at the treeline and looked out. A wasteland stretched before them with hardly a tree in sight. It was littered with tree stumps and dry, white sticks – the remains of branches. The overcast sky seemed to stretch away from them in ever-gloomier layers of grey.

"So there it is," said Idil, "People have been taking the trees, taking the wood. It is useful to see, I suppose: we will not come this way tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" asked Mina.

"We shall leave in the morning," said Idil, "Another spirit needs our attention."

Mina felt her jaw tighten, as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't. She looked down at her cub: it was stretched up on its hind legs with both front paws clutching a tree. It looked back at her.

"We could stay here," said Roy, "Find these people and make them stop. Make them see what they are doing."

"Then who would see to the spirits?" asked Idil.

A cry suddenly rent the air: a hoarse, desperate roar which was abruptly curtailed. At its sound the bears became agitated and began to pace the forest floor. The mother rose up to her full height and, towering over them, let out a stream of guttural noises. Idil and Mina turned to her in alarm, but Roy continued to look out over the wasteland. The younger bears moved to the forest edge but seemed reluctant to leave it.

"Over there," said Roy, pointing, "That was a bear."

Away to their left a curve in the treeline blocked their view. Above it a thin trail of smoke was visible, dark against the sky and spreading out gradually in the still air. The cry came from there again, though this time it was quieter. Another sound followed it, an unnatural mixture of voices: laughter.

"Roy," said Idil sternly, "Don't you dare."

At her words, however, Roy appeared to make up his mind. He hefted his pack higher on his shoulders and stepped out of the forest. He moved quickly in the direction of the smoke, unperturbed by the loose sticks which snapped under his feet. Idil muttered something under her breath, then took Mina's hand tightly.

"Don't let go of my hand," she said.

Mina could not resist being pulled out of the forest and matching Idil's quick pace. The cold of the evening hit her instantly and she looked back at the bears: they stood still, watching the three of them leave. The mother bear was still upright against the tree. Mina, however, had to focus on her steps on the loose wood; she was glad, then, of her shoes. Roy was some way ahead of them and she wished that he would turn around so they could go back to the forest.

"Why doesn't Roy have to hold your hand?" she asked.

"I will deal with Roy later," Idil replied, through gritted teeth.

They didn't speak again as they crossed the wasteland. The voices of the people ahead of them, and the occasional growling of the bear, grew louder. As they passed the surviving limb of forest they saw a hill with one great tree at its peak, left standing like a mockery of the forest which had once surrounded it. Its base was lit up by firelight and its top was lost in shadow. Below the tree were the silhouettes of people, laughing and shouting. As they walked closer Mina could make out the scene in more detail. The crowd had left a space directly under the tree and a big shape moved with in it. It was strong but furtive, clearly injured: the bear. It was huge, larger even than the mother bear; it's fur stood on end, accentuating the muscles that rippled on its back and legs. Patches of its fur were dark and matted and one eye was red and swollen shut. A chain was wound tightly around its neck and connected by a padlock to another chain on the tree. The chains shrieked every time the bear moved.

A man emerged from the crowd with a poker in his hand, its end glowing red. Several more pokers stood in the brazier at the edge of the crowd. Mina could see little of him but she knew, immediately, that she hated him. He arrogantly strode towards the top of the hill, delighting in the attention of the crowd. He held his poker out and crouched before the bear just out of its reach. The bear swiped at him with a claw but the chain pulled taught; the crowd screamed its appreciation. The bear opened its mouth and attempted to roar but its voice was gone; it backed towards the tree.

Idil was still pulling Mina towards a small figure on the edge of the crowd: Roy had stopped and his hands hung by his sides. Idil reached for him and he did not resist.

"What do you think you are doing, Roy?" she hissed, "Reckless, that's what you are, reckless. We are in danger here."

Mina could still see, between the legs of the crowd, the man lunging at the bear with his poker. Something swung at his belt: a big key, no doubt for the padlock. She became aware of more movement on the hill, however, and the cheering voices grew louder. They were surrounded.

"Hey," said a gruff voice behind them, "What are you doing? You can't bring children here."

"And why is that?" Idil retorted, spinning around, "Are you ashamed of what's happening here?"

Mina did not follow the rest of the conversation because Idil had inadvertently let go of her hand. Knowing that she had let go of Roy's hand as well, and sure that he had seen the key, she reached out for him. Roy, however, was already moving: ducking down quickly into the crowd. Mina set off after him and, small as she was and unhindered by a pack, found she could slip past the people ahead of her with ease. Afraid for Roy, and afraid of the telling-off Idil would give him, she sped up the hill. She knew, and shared, Roy's anger; catching up with him she reached for his arm. A burst of white hot pain erupted from it as she touched his skin; she pulled away and clutched her hand to her chest. If Roy had felt the pain he did not show it: he continued running but was suddenly on all fours. He tried to right himself and fell again, eyes fixed on the man and the bear. He crawled forwards as fast as he could but his legs were becoming constricted by his trousers. His skin swelled and a ripple of fur stretched his shirt. With a loud tearing noise his clothes fell from him and he turned his head to rip off his pack with his teeth. His long, sharp bear teeth.

There were, by now, a number of gasps and cries from the crowd. The man baiting the bear, however, was oblivious to them, and Roy charged straight at him. Too late he turned, his eyes widening, and Roy collided with him head and forelegs first. They fell together in a heap and Mina steeled herself to follow. She cried out, and Roy's head suddenly appeared above the thrashing limbs with the key dangling from his mouth. Mina grabbed it and ran towards the padlock connecting the two chains. As she dropped to her knees a voice rang out from behind her.

"Get that girl!" it cried.

In retort Roy roared and the larger bear roared with him; someone shouted and people hurried back down the hill. Mina thrust the key into the padlock, twisted it and felt something click. In the blur of noise and activity around her she heard one set of running feet and, looking up, saw Idil with staff in hand and cloak streaming out. Idil barely slowed as she hauled Mina painfully to her feet.

"Don't ever do that, Mina," she cried.

Idil pulled Mina into a run down the far side of the hill, putting the newly energised bear between them and the crowd. She called for Roy and he came loping after them. Shouts of anger and the scraping of metal filled Mina's ears but she couldn't see what was happening; she could only run on into the night. She was blinded by firelight and thrown off-balance by the uneven ground. Her shoes felt like dead weights and her feet slipped uselessly inside them.

"Faster, Mina," gasped Idil.

"I can't!" she cried, "Idil, I can't."

They had reached the bottom of the hill and Roy, uncoordinated, tumbled past them. He rolled on the ground and sticks flew around him, but he righted himself quickly and looked at them. Voices raised in anger reached Mina's ears.

"Roy, take your sister," said Idil.

Mina felt Idil's strong hands under her armpits and all of a sudden she was off the ground and on Roy's back. Her feet dangled on either side and she gripped instinctively to his fur. She looked up at Idil and saw her frightened face lit up by torchlight: they were being pursued.

"Get back to the river," Idil continued, "I will find you."

Roy did not hesitate and Mina was nearly thrown backwards as he set off. His previously smooth back became a writhing sea of muscles; Mina tried to flatten herself against it. She was rocked from side to side as Roy ran and she could not feel anything solid or safe on his body. His fur was thick and course and she dug her fingers into it, remembering the jabbing pains of the cub on her back from earlier in the day. Screwing her eyes shut she thought of nothing but holding on. Roy's thunderous steps continued and the shouts of the crowd began to fade behind her.

Eventually Roy's body settled into a rhythm and he held a straight course. Mina dared to open her eyes, but could see nothing. She realised she could grip with her knees and pull herself up on her elbows. She opened her mouth slightly and tasted the cold night air. The thrill of the chase hit her then, and she was glad of Roy's great strength, his confidence in the route he was following. She still shook with every step and her body ached; she knew, however, that the forest was up ahead.

*

After a while Roy's pace slowed to a walk. He had to pick his way past branches and foliage: they were safely back among trees. Roy's strength seemed to leave him and he slowed down. Mina noticed him putting his paws down with less certainty at each step: the journey was becoming difficult for him. He started to let out a little whining noise from between his teeth. Mina tried to think of a way to help him.

"You're a good bear," she said, her voice thin from lack of use, "A great bear."

Roy gave no sign that he had heard; his silence alarmed her.

"Roy?" she said.

She did not try to speak with him again. The silence and stillness of the forest surrounded them. As Mina's ears attuned to it she heard a distant motion and took encouragement from it: the river. Roy swayed slightly beneath her and, with a deep breath, Mina prepared to dismount. She felt around with one foot and gradually let herself down to the ground. Keeping her hand on Roy's coat she moved around to face him.

"What's the matter?" she asked and, when he didn't respond, "Follow me. We're nearly there."

Mina stretched her arms awkwardly: one to feel the way ahead and the other to hold gently to Roy. He followed her without complaint, but was panting now. Their progress through the undergrowth was very slow. As they walked, three sets of footsteps joined them: one large and two small. The sound of the bears guided them the last few steps to the riverbank. When they reached it Roy slumped to his side and did not move. The mother bear put her head close to him; Mina could hear her sniffing. She moved around him, nudging him and crooning. He grunted once in reply. Mina reached down and felt the snout of the younger cub stretching up to meet her hand. She stroked it.

"Thank you for coming," she said and then, feeling it somehow wasn't enough, added "I'm sorry."

She had a growing sense that they had not done what the mother bear had wanted of them. Mina sat down and the bears, one by one, sat down too.

Mina did not know for how long they waited. Roy's breathing was laboured and she wished she could do something to help him. She hugged her knees close to her chest and shivered a little. Eventually, however, she became aware of another presence in the forest. It was some way behind her and she stood to meet it.

"We're over here," she said to the darkness.

The night swelled as Idil approached and, when she spoke, it was as if the forest itself was speaking.

"Mina," she said angrily, "From where does the Earthwitch's power flow?"

"From the Earth beneath her feet," she replied, hanging her head.

"And she must never?"

"Take more than the Earth is willing to give. But I didn't mean to!"

Idil sank heavily to the ground at Roy's side. "That's not good enough," she said, "The bear was surrounded and wounded; there was no way we could help it. By releasing it you only put those people in danger. We must try not to get angry, I know I did, but this is what happens when the Earthwitch loses control."

The bears shuffled uneasily and Mina felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "When will Roy turn back?" she asked.

"I do not understand this, Mina," Idil replied, leaning close to Roy, "What the two of you have done. Roy wanted this badly. Perhaps too much."

"You can help him though," asked Mina, kneeling down, "Can't you?"

"I could," said Idil, after a pause, "But I would have to ask a lot of the spirit. I won't risk waking it. Roy will have to do this for himself."

"What if he can't?"

"Then he will stay here, in this forest, as a bear. It wouldn't be a bad life..."

"But I don't want him to be a bear!"

Even as Mina spoke she realised her mouth was open far too wide and her eyes were far too hot. She flung herself at Roy's leg, buried her head in his fur and cried as she had never cried before.

"Oh, Mina," said Idil, weakly.

Mina was dimly aware of Idil's hand on her back, but its touch was far too light to be of any use. She shook from crying; thoughts of all the things Roy had done for her, and was still to do, filled her mind. She tried to put them into words, but the words burst in her mouth and came out as sobs. As she gasped for air she heard the crackling of wood and smelt smoke: Idil was lighting a fire. Roy groaned again and shifted himself towards it.

"Come back to us, Roy," said Idil.

It was a long wait. Mina's sobs calmed down eventually, but she kept her eyes screwed shut. She wanted to keep crying, and was sure that Roy needed her to. Her tears dampened his fur and, though it was difficult, she tried not to wipe her nose on him. Roy began to grunt, and his voice took on a stronger, more controlled tone. He shook his legs one by one and Mina held onto hers tighter. Soon he was shuddering. The two bear cubs rose to their feet and began to pace around him. A rushing noise came over the leaf litter and Roy withdrew his leg sharply, leaving Mina alone in the cold air. She blinked her eyes open and was dazzled for a moment by the firelight. Roy lay where the bear had been, Roy the boy with mud on his arms and legs and his face gaunt. Mina wanted to give him a big hug but knew that, since he was naked, he wouldn't want her to. He raised himself up onto his elbows and knees.

"Here," said Idil, throwing her cloak over him.

Idil made to close the cloak at Roy's neck, but his hand darted out from within and held it in place. He rose to a kneeling position and held out his hand to the bear cubs, who had walked over to press themselves against him. He did not look at Idil and Mina.

"The Earth gave you a great gift today," said Idil carefully, "This was a poor way to repay it."

"I'm sorry Idil," he replied.

"It's alright."

"About my things I mean," he continued, "I left my clothes and my pack behind."

Mina started: there were lots of important things in Roy's pack. How would they carry on without them?

"We can get more," said Idil, "We're all here and that's what matters."

Mina, unable to contain herself any longer, gave Roy a big hug. He returned it, though his arms were still shut awkwardly in Idil's cloak. The mother bear called out into the night and the fire spat.

The bears did not leave them that night. Idil let the fire go out and they lay down to sleep in a huddle with the bears all around. Mina snuggled up against the warm fur of the great mother bear, the adventures of the evening far behind her. She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the warm earth. As she drifted off to sleep she wondered if leaving the forest to meet more spirits – and, hopefully, more bears – would be so bad after all.

Another playtest zone and another invented word https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2025/02/17/diary-65-the-supragame/

What I've not been up to https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2024/12/20/diary-64-sleeping-giants/

Are the excessive visual stimuli the eyewig's food? If so perhaps it can be starved to death by blindfolding the host for a few weeks. Or at least an eyepatch

I'm about halfway through The Big Con by Mariana Mazzucato and Rosie Collington. The title is a pun - the cover suggests it should be "The Big Consultancy". It's a pretty damming critique of the consulting industry and and interesting for someone who does not usually read non-fiction. One interesting case study is the US government's contracting McKinsey to basically run Puerto Rico's recover from hurricane damage in 2017 despite a blatant conflict of interest - the company had investments there which it then favoured. It turns out consultants will sometimes deliberately under-sell their services to a government or company, then bleed the expertise out of the client and finally up the charges when they are powerless to resist. I think this parasitic strategy would be an excellent start point for a board game.

I was interviewed by Joe Shimwell from What If Games - lots of waxing lyrical about playtesting https://www.whatifgames.co.uk/beyond-playtesting-a-conversation-with-richard-aka-the-indiekid/

Two playtesting zones https://masterofolympus.wordpress.com/2024/09/30/diary-63-both-ends-of-the-rainbow/