The Last Bear

by Hannah Gold

It didn’t even cross her mind to be afraid. In fact, she felt the opposite – a shimmery glimmer of excitement, as if someone had sprinkled glitter all over her. Here was the wide world her mother had always talked about, and April was actually living right inside it.

In this way, she learned how the word Arctic came from the Greek word arktos, which meant bear.

There was a strange fog that often settled on the island around teatime, clinging to it like a ghost and making the light take on an eerie, yellow hue.

And April knew if she looked up, her life would never be the same again. That this moment itself was going to alter her in some way. Maybe even forever. She slowly raised her eyes. And there, standing on the other side of the beach, about fifty metres away, was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen.

Bear looked at her with his dark brown eyes, twinkling not just with the reflection of the sea but with something far deeper. It was a look that covered time and space and everything in-between. And it could have lasted forever, or it could have lasted seconds. Looking back, she was never quite sure. But one thing she did know: it was the kind of look that friendships could be forged upon.

‘You know why I love Mozart?’ Dad said, clearing his throat with a gruff cough. ‘He was one of the greatest composers that ever lived. Not because he wrote music with his head, but because he wrote music from his heart. And when you live from your heart, it’s impossible to ever tell a lie.’

‘I agree,’ said April. ‘But imagine if every single person on the planet just did one thing.’ ‘Then it is still not enough.’ ‘But it’s better than doing nothing.’