When they arrived at their destination, Dunbar stepped out of the jeep and looked first at the wide blue sky, cloudless. It was Wednesday. Or at least, he thought it was Wednesday. He couldn't remember. He looked at the flat plains in front of him and then the scrub of brush by a slow trickle of water a bit beyond that. There was their target; he could see the dark spot of fur moving against the taupe backdrop of dirt. Their stray bear.

"What you got?" his partner asked, climbing out of the passenger's seat and swiping off his baseball cap.

"Right up there," said Dunbar.

"I hate fucking bears," his partner said.

Dunbar rolled his eyes. Scott, Dunbar thought, an annoyance of a man and completely ignorant of everything except for his preference of cheap beer. He kept silent for a moment, thinking about their next move. The sun beat down.

"Doesn't this little one fucking know its way back home?" Scott persisted. "Dumb fucking animal."

Dunbar shook his head. "Actually," he said, "I think a lot of animals are a lot smarter than most humans." He put special emphasis on the word 'most,' but Scott didn't seem to notice. "This one may have a special reason for being so far from home."

He doubted that Scott would understand anything more technical than that, about bears' habits and lifestyles, so he didn't elaborate further. The bear didn't concern him much either; it only worried him that they'd drive so far off the beaten path and were expected to return in just a few hours for another small task.

They began walking forward slowly, at Dunbar's direction. He'd been out here too long to want to rush; his time was going on eighteen months. His original contract with the Bureau of Land Management had guaranteed him six months of employment; at the beginning, he'd been eager to go back home to his friends and family, but then the California landscape and wildlife had won him over. He'd decided to stay, no doubt disappointing everyone at home. His friends, mostly. But it had felt right in his heart for him to stay out here, working outdoors. He knew his close friends would understand, although once in a while he missed them terribly, and longed to go back to Maryland and see them. But what he was doing, he felt, made a difference, after all. And so another year had almost passed, another season.

Scott was one of the newer ones, and while he was stubbornly stupid, Dunbar wasn't too opposed to having him around. But today Dunbar was all business, as he really wanted to get back to the office for his next assignment. He had a feeling Scott would not make that very easy. On more than one occasion, Scott had brought a six pack of beer out with him, hidden in his pack. Dunbar had conceded to this once, only once, and had paid for it dearly when they'd lost their way in the desert. It had been well past dusk when they finally found the jeep, sitting where they'd left it, and were able to drive out back home. It had been frightening though; more than once Dunbar had thought they were goners.

He hadn't drank with Scott again, and had threatened to report him if he caught Scott with illegal substances while on the job again. Dunbar wasn't sure how high his credibility with Scott was, though, but he didn't want to find out.

They progressed forward towards the bear, now clearly visible against the underbrush as a dark mass. Soon they would be able to see its features. While it looked small from far away, Dunbar was sure the bear cub would be larger than a big dog by the time they were standing near it. As they got closer, Dunbar tried to think of what to do about the bear. His instructions were to determine how far away from his habitat the bear was, flush it in that direction, then leave, but Dunbar thought that would be cruel. Another option was to tranquilize the bear and drive it back, but at this point Dunbar thought they would be pressed for time. And how would one exactly 'flush out' a bear? He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, out here all alone.

Luckily, he didn't have to worry about making that decision; Scott made it for him.

Scott simultaneously belched loudly and stepped into a tangle of brush and fell over himself.

Dunbar ducked, a natural reaction, and froze, low to the ground. Scott moaned and started to get up, but Dunbar clapped a hand over his mouth and rooted Scott to the ground.

"Shut up!" Dunbar hissed, listening.

To Scott, the air was silent, except for his own rustling and the pounding of his heart. But to Dunbar, the world was alive with sound. Suddenly, everything was visceral. He heard not only his own breathing, but Scott's. He could feel the perspiration running down his own back and forehead, and heard the breeze through the underbrush, whipping at the twigs and moving through the grass. He even heard the bear cub snorting as it snuffled around the small embankment. And something else, a low growl...

Dunbar's meager hair stood on end. The low growl... that couldn't have come from the cub, or Scott. At the moment Dunbar wished that Scott was capable of making that noise, but he knew better. He had a momentary flash of memory, one of his best friends telling him that he'd send Dunbar a can of 'bear repellent.' Sure could use some now, Dunbar thought, fleetingly.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Get up."

Scott didn't seem to know or understand the gravity of their situation, and on pure adrenaline alone Dunbar hauled up his co-worker to standing. They looked around wildly, but the only animal visible was the small bear cub. As they scanned the area, the bear cub began to cry out, a rasping, high-pitched yowl, closer to feline than roughly canine.

"We have to go," Dunbar said.

"Oh my god!" Scott shrieked, pointing.

A huge shape materialized less than fifty yard from them. It growled again, this time louder, and the sound cut through Dunbar.

"We have to go!" Scott shrieked again, struggling to release himself from Dunbar's iron grip.

Dunbar wanted to flee, he wanted to. A sudden change came over him, a calm, a stillness, and he stood his ground. First letting go of Scott's shoulders, Dunbar stepped away. His heart thundered around his chest, and his bowls had turned to jelly. And yet in his mind, he felt more assured than ever.

The mother growled at them, threatening. She stood, and Scott cowered. As she started to charge them, Scott stumbled over himself and turned to run, grabbing Dunbar's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Scott yelled, trying to drag Dunbar off. But Dunbar would not be persuaded to leave.

Go, Dunbar thought. Get your cub and leave.

The bear stopped abruptly, and on her face, even underneath her fur and in her animal eyes, there registered a look of confusion. They locked eyes. In a flash, Dunbar knew why the small bear had strayed, and that the mother was now coming to retrieve it.

Scott fainted.

Dunbar stood his ground, his hands shaking. We won't hurt you. Just take your cub home and we'll leave too. He hoped to God that the bear understood 'home' as a concept. He thought of a mental image that the bear might understand, a little movie in his head of what he wanted the bear to do. Dunbar was looking directly into the bear's eyes, and knew that it understood.

And then the bear turned from them, herded its cub around their backs and trotted off quickly, and as quietly as a bear could. Dunbar and Scott were alone.

Scott was still on the ground, but Dunbar was glad he could relish the moment alone. I can talk to animals, he thought. I knew it! I can't wait to tell everyone. He'd always been good with animals, and now he knew why. Dunbar pulled Scott's limp form off the ground and began dragging him back towards the jeep, smiling.