Over the course of the next few weeks, Bernard marked his territory's borders. His wounded shoulder slowed his progress, aching more every day and sometimes feeling inexplicably warm, but he was able to mark enough trees to stake his claim before any other bears tried to snatch some of his land for themselves.

To keep his paws from aching, Bernard frequently paused to rest. During these brief breaks, he tried to teach Orson what he could about humans. In return, the cub shared the lessons his mother had taught him and his brother.

The last border he needed to mark stretched along a river that wound through the forest, several miles from the road. Long before Bernard reached the shore, he saw bright red flashes flickering in the water as salmon swam upstream to spawn. The salmon were so tightly packed together that their backs often broke the water's surface.

As he approached the riverbank, Bernard heard a waterfall rushing in the distance, near where his territory met Arturo's. On the other side of the river, a bear with dark brown, nearly black fur stood eyeing the fish. Judging from what the territory's previous owner had said, this was probably Uzumati.

"Do you think it's safe to try and catch lunch over there?" Bernard asked Orson, whispering as he scanned the area. A faint trail of wolverine paw prints ran along the river's edge; its scent was a few days old and was almost completely masked by the windblown odor of the other bear.

"I'm not sure. Whenever my mom took my brother and I to a salmon run, she would always fish farther downstream, away from the older bears that could kill us. Since this is your territory, you should be okay as long as you let any stronger bears have their space and eat their fill."

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Great. I finally got my own territory, and now I have to share it."

Orson laughed. "Yeah, but look at all those fish! Why would anyone want to waste time worrying about borders or fighting over food when there's more than enough for everyone right here?"

"Nobody seemed to care how much food was around before. They'd yell at me and try to chase me off no matter how much they had," said Bernard, flattening his ears as Uzumati glanced in his direction.

"Mom told me that eating salmon is the best way to fatten up in time for hibernation. With so many of them swimming upstream each year, everyone focuses on eating as much as they can without bothering to argue over individual fish. It's the best fishing spots that get fought over."

"I'd better pick a good one and take advantage of it before anyone else gets any ideas then," said Bernard. He walked a few feet downstream, avoiding pebbles that might scrape his tender paws as he went. "Why on earth would older bears want to kill you guys, anyway? There was obviously enough food to go around." He dipped his muzzle into the water and took a few sips.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you anything about how cubs are made?"

Bernard choked on the water, spraying it and spooking the salmon. The other bear stared at him before shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. Bernard ducked his head, anticipating a charge that never came, and responded, "She said I was still too young to worry about that." He glared at the water. "Of course, I had already started turning into a bear by the time I started asking her about that. As you can imagine, Mom had a lot on her mind and didn't exactly enjoy talking to me much."

"When do humans learn about it, then? That's some pretty important information that every cub is expected to know."

"I don't know. Maybe in junior high. That's where kids around my age normally go to learn more about the world and try not to get bored to death. Can we please get back on topic?"

"Sure. To answer your question, males kill cubs because they want to make females have their cubs."

There wasn't a good way to respond to that, so Bernard readied himself by the water's edge to avoid making the conversation even more awkward and try to catch a couple fish. He watched the salmon rushing upstream, set his eyes on a particularly large group of them, and lunged forward.

Bernard crashed into the water as the fish darted past his paws. He tried to snatch one up in his jaws, only to clamp his teeth around nothing but water. The current tugged at his fur, soaking him. Salmon slapped his legs with their tails as they swam straight past him.

The other bear snarled at him. "You made me miss one! What do you think you are, a trout? You can't just throw yourself into the water and expect the fish to fly into your mouth."

"Sorry, Uzumati," Bernard said as he pulled himself out of the water with his fur clinging to him like moss on a rock. The grizzly barely glanced at him before returning his focus to his lunch.

"If that's how humans fish, how did your mom ever catch anything for you?" Orson asked as he struggled not to laugh.

"Humans use fishing poles, long sticks that have bait at the end. Most people buy their food and don't have to catch it themselves though," Bernard said quietly. He shook himself off, sending water flying in all directions.

As Bernard watched, Uzumati struck at a salmon. His claws failed to sink into it, but he smacked it onto the bank with his paw. The fish flopped in the dirt until Uzumati struck its head. The bear bent down and began tearing away chunks of flesh, gulping them down as if the meal could be snatched away at a moment's notice. Only the fish's skeleton remained when he targeted his next prey.

Bernard moved farther downstream until he could barely see the other bear, marking the trees along his border as he went. Once he found a secluded spot in the sun, he settled down to dry off and practice his technique. After digging up and forcing down enough grubs and worms to satisfy his appetite, he braced himself for a long afternoon.

At first, Bernard tried the flipping maneuver he had seen Uzumati use. Since the fish were swimming by so quickly, he figured that it would be easier to toss the salmon onto the shore and kill them there.

He was wrong.

Instead of catching any fish, Bernard found himself splashing around like a kindergartener in a kiddie pool. He was lucky if his claws even grazed the fishes' scales. Once, he was lucky enough to send his target flying into the air, but it smacked him on the nose with its tail before splashing back into the water.

"Are you trying to catch something or play with the fish?" Orson asked. "Maybe you should stick to what you've been eating."

"No, I've definitely got it this time." Bernard lashed out at the next red streak he saw, losing his balance as the momentum of his strike sent him diving into the current. He emerged spluttering as Orson chuckled. "Alright, wise guy. How would you catch one?"

"Try stabbing one with your claws. If you hit your mark, it won't be able to wiggle away. If you miss, then you can try to fling it out of the water. That's what I was told to do, anyway. I wasn't old enough to try by myself yet."

"It sounds like you're no expert."

"No, but I'm not the one who smacked himself in the face with what should have been his lunch."

Bernard snorted, lips twitching as he suppressed a laugh. "I suppose you're right. Any other words of wisdom, Mr. Fishing Expert?"

"Yeah. Stop leaning over the water every time you get ready to strike. You might as well tell the fish that you're trying to kill them while you're at it."

"That would be pretty helpful," Bernard said as he corrected his stance. He waited before lunging forward with his uninjured arm. One of his claws nicked a fish's tail, drawing blood. "Did you see that?"

"Of course I did. This time, try to be quicker."

"Don't be such a party pooper. I almost had that fatso."

"Come on, don't let a couple of fish make a fool out of you. Think of that warm, fatty meat, the blood running down your throat, the-"

Bernard's stomach growled. "Can I not? I think I'm going to start drooling a river if I do." He sighed. "I haven't eaten any salmon since Mom abandoned me."

"Don't think about that," Orson said. "You can't bring her back. All you can do is show everyone how wrong she was about you. Show them that you can take care of yourself, that you aren't just a giant cub. Come on, I know you can do this. All grizzlies can."

"Acting like a bear is what made her hate me in the first place," Bernard said. Nonetheless, he resumed his task.

He couldn't force his mother to love him again, but he could make the best of his life in the wild. That was all he could do now.

Bernard struck, sinking his claws into his target.