The young bear had spent much of his life, thus far, alone. He'd travelled, here and there; he'd gotten lost more than once. He'd only encountered a few speaking Gembound, and of these, one had scared the hell out of him, one had been kind, and one, he'd lost completely.

It left him rather stunted in terms of social interaction and in vocabulary; as a result he had grown almost feral in nature.

He wandered down into the Gorge most days, ambling along one of the rivers that had settled in its bed, ears flicking at the rush of water over pebbles. Sometimes he stood in the water; other times he stood at the edge. He'd quickly learned to fish, and he fished, and ate, and then returned to one of several little caves in the Gorge or above, to sleep the rest of the day away. But eating he did much of: he was a growing bear, and a large one at that, and the heat of Monoceros, the free-flowing water and the copious fish fed him well.

Today he was after the fat fish that leapt the banks as they travelled upstream. He stood near the water, huffing, and when one drew close, out he pounced--his young brown ball of fur body plunging into the shallows claws-first.

Down he went, head-first, into a sinkhole he hadn't known was there--and with a startled, wordless squall of fear, went tumbling away downriver, helpless to stop himself.

Oh, hell.