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There was once a princess who very much wanted not to be loved; no cuddles, no cosseting and absolutely no kisses. So she stole a bearskin, wrapped the dusty weight around her slender frame, and thus became a great bear and hid deep in the forest.
Years passed.
The forest offered essentials, water, food and a cave. She found dark tapestries of lacy moss and leaves. Branches arched overhead so that her songs echoed strong and wild as if her music came from the trees. A prince went hunting in the forest and heard the bear’s songs; perhaps he was charming, no one remembers. The bear spoke, warned him to call off his dogs or else she might eviscerate them all into tiny pine needle smithereens. When bears talk, poor men and princes alike, listen. When the prince spoke the bear remembered civilisation. She followed him home.
At the prince’s palace the bear sat at a piano and smiled as she played. Smiled as her claws scratched daintily at the ivory, softly as her paws brushed the peddles. Then when she sang to the prince her voice was true sweetness and cosy, the rich greenness of the forest had gone forever.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Rachel Irving and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
