As I hibernate through winter, I find myself dreaming that I am in a cub's body, the body of the voice that's been in my head, for what feels like the hundredth time as a familiar sequence of events plays out. The cub's body is much smaller than my real body is: he has to stand on his hind paws to reach his mother's shoulder. His brother is even smaller, but that doesn't stop him from running up to my cub and smacking him on the nose.

"You can't catch me, moose breath!" the smaller cub says, giggling as he dashes out of his brother's reach.

I feel my – no, the cub's – claws dig into the ground as the cubs' mother chuckles. My cub glares at her over his shoulder. "Are you going to let him get away with that?" she asks.

"No way!" he says.

"You should teach him a lesson, then," she says. The cub flexes his leg muscles. "Remember, brothers don't draw blood." 

"Yeah, yeah." The mother bear clears her throat, turns toward him, and nudges him with her nose. "Yes, Mom." 

As soon as his mother looks away from him, he dashes after his brother. The two run through the bushes, giggling as they send leaves flying. The smaller cub turns to face his pursuer. "I've got you now," says his playmate, growling playfully before launching himself forward.

He crashes into his brother, sending both of them tumbling through piles of fallen leaves. Dirt cakes his fur, making his skin itch. Landing on top of his brother, he gently takes his ear between his teeth. "Gotcha!" he mumbles around the ear before giving it a small shake.

Twigs snap nearby, making the cubs' fur stand on end. 

"Not again," I whispered, unheard by the memories around me.

The dream froze.

"Ready to admit you were wrong?" said the cub's voice, much angrier than it ever is in the nightmare. If I could see him, I bet he'd be snarling.

"None of this was Dad's fault."

"Tell that to my mother. Oh wait, you can't. Those monsters killed her."

"My dad didn't do anything. Your mother is the one who decided to attack people."

"Suit yourself."

The dream begins moving again. 

The mother bear's head sways back and forth as she checks the area for scents. Her eyes widen as I smell a mixture of familiar scents: sweat, coffee, and bacon. "Cubs, go up a tree." The two stop playing. The bear below him trembled with fear. "Now!"

The cubs scramble up the nearest tree, climbing so high that the thin branch beneath them sways with each step they take. 

Blissfully unaware of the nervous grizzlies, a small group of rangers emerges. The rangers' discussion about a bobcat they had recently relocated is interrupted by the mother bear's warning growl as they draw closer to the tree where the cubs are hiding. The men jump as they are jolted from their conversation. One of them yelps.

I watch from the perspective of a little fuzzball with his arms hugging a thin branch and his fur being torn at by the wind as the adult grizzly bares her fangs at the humans. The men back away, but the female still rears up and screams, "Go away! Leave my cubs alone!"

Unfortunately, the men misinterpret her plea. They yell and shake the foliage, trying to scare her off. Birds shriek overhead, adding to the terrifying cacophony. Both cubs tremble. My cub shrieks as his claws slip. "Mom!" he screams as he dangles over the rangers.

Fear. Screaming. Panic.

The mother bear charges forward with a deafening roar. The men scatter like ants fleeing from a crushed anthill. My view of the resulting chaos is restricted to the tiniest of slivers as the cub regains his grip on the branch, inches toward the thicker end, and rams its face into the reassuringly sturdy tree trunk. The yelling grows in volume until I can barely stand it. Still worse are the simultaneous screams, the coppery odor of freshly spilled blood, and the abrupt silence that follows soon after.

Two brown blurs streak through the woods ahead of me. The mother bear's frantic command to run and hide rings in my ears as the cubs rush into a thicket. My cub cowers next to his brother, not daring to make the slightest whimper as he waited for the signal that all was safe once more. Yells tear through the forest as the men return. A thunderous noise cracks out, followed by a wail of pain.

Silence.

The two cubs wait for hours on end, but their mother never tells them they are safe from the humans. The cub's empty stomach sends him searching for his mother. All he manages to find is a cold mass of fur and the pitiless pang of starvation. 

As the dream cub's life is brought to an end and my vision fades into darkness, the sub's spirit speaks to me.

"Ready?"

"Never."

The cub swears under his breath as the darkness begins to lighten. "Why are you humans so stubborn?" He sighs. " I guess you'll learn your lesson eventually. Here is a reminder of what humans have forced me to feel for the past two years.

Instead of a cub's body, this dream puts me in the body of a full grown grizzly. The smell of blood hits my nose as I recognize the mangled, unmoving body beneath my paws.

"Mom!"

My head smacks against the roof of the cave. Breathing heavily, I lift a paw to my aching head, feeling the emerging bump. 

"Never," I whisper as I drag myself outside to face spring. "Never."