Mother had already left when my eyes opened. The rest of us were still fast asleep, not a sound lingering in the crisp morning air. We saw Mother leave before dusk for the journey across the valley. She had left in a hurry, hoping to get there in time. After the autumn frost hits, the berries within a day's journey would go sour and the nuts would be scarce.

I felt the cold nip at my nose and hoped Mother would be home soon. Otis and Bronwyn loved the sour dark berries, and mother had promised to find them. The search was sure to have taken Mother until early morning. The rest of us liked the sweet red ones that grew on bushes closer to home. I could have eaten those berries all winter. Mother called them red berries, but the strange ones called them something different. Mother never spoke words of the stranger's tongue, and told us the strange ones gave us bad ideas and made us too impetuous, though I doubt that was possible for us.

First born came Honey and Dakota, definitely the two bravest of us five, and both born natural leaders. Next, Mother had Otis, Bronwyn, and I--and let me tell you Mother had never seen such curious young. Just because Honey and Dakota were older, Mother often put them in charge of us until she returned. This was the longest Mother had been away from us, and I was frightened. But Mother was very strong, and she could take care of herself.

In early fall last year when we went red berry picking, we all ran in separate directions. Mother said she could have caught up to us, but she wanted to see how we could handle being out there alone. Mother told me I looked like a true hunter, though I wasn’t trying to catch my new furry friend. We were both munching on a red berry bush when he saw me and just bolted. I didn’t know squirrels could run so fast! I chased him up and down the tree, but I don't think he knew we were playing tag. That’s when I turned around and all of a sudden I was lost. Well, only partly lost until I heard Mothers call. I ran back before she even got worried and I just ate and ate. I was trying to fill up on as many berries I could before winter. Now every autumn we travel to the bushes in season to fill ourselves with as many of the berries we can eat before heading home. I always forget to fast before the journey like everyone else does, but Mother says I’m still learning.

* * *

I tried to wake the others that morning, but they just groaned, closing their eyes again. The day we went red berry picking was ages ago, and I was starving.

The night before, I had dreamt of eating red berries all day. All Mother could find for dinner before she left was a family of chipmunks to share. It wasn’t enough to feed all of us, so she didn’t eat. We only ate a few bites each. I knew they were both starving too, and so I didn’t complain.

Suddenly I heard grunting outside our den. I recognized it was Mother. She sounded exhausted.

Normally, she would hold huge branches of berries in her jaws on the trip back. Mother always had scratches covering her from the bushes. If predators approached her, she would have to fight. This time of year Mother says everyone is trying to find food, and peaceful encounters are rare. Some parents never even make it back to their babies. Mother is always on alert, and if she needed to, Mother would fight off other hungry mothers and predators for our food. I knew she had gotten beaten up pretty bad this time.

I scrambled outside to see Mother lying on the ground, panting and exhausted. She was shivering and her eyes stayed shut. Her paws were scratched up and raw, a sign she had been running for hours. A wound on her left shoulder seeped red. Dried patches of blood stained her black coat. Strange stenches overtook my nose and I fell backwards onto a pile of branches. There were only 12 branches lying next to us. I knew she could have carried more. Mother was hurt. Bad.

When she finally opened her eyes, Mother immediately told me to go back inside. She said she didn’t know how safe we were out in the open. The others heard her from inside the den and ran to her side while I started dragging in the limp branches. One of them was coated with Mother’s blood, dripping down my jaws as I heaved it inside. My black coat was blotted with crimson as I struggled to help Mother into the den. All I wanted was Mother to be ok.

Mother always hated the strangers, selfish and cold hearted. She didn’t understand them, and told us to never trust them. Mother said they didn’t know nature and the woods like us. They just kill. The long boom sticks they hold and kill with weren’t meant for Mother.  She told us of her encounter as we all lay around her, keeping her warm. She was only trying to protect herself.

Mother never saw the strange one behind her. A branch snapped under Mother’s paw and she heard movement coming from a few bushes away. She smelled the strange one close by, the man holding his weapon up. He thought Mother hadn't noticed him, but she knew he was there. He started towards her, and Mother’s head whipped around. She glared into its blue eyes. Although he looked younger than any of the other men she had encountered, all she saw in him was cold-hearted hatred. They stood there for a few seconds, and then Mother went back to breaking off the branches. The boy was afraid. He stood paralyzed, holding up his weapon to Mother. She shouldn’t have ignored him. BOOM! Mother fell backwards as the man fired his gun. She ran away as fast as she could, only managing to take back 12 branches. When she was out of sight, she knew the stranger was just as wounded as Mother when he saw what he had done.

That night Mother didn’t make it. The wound was only in her shoulder, but the pain spread so quickly. Mother fought hard that night, sorrow gleaming in her eyes. But she knew we would be ok.

She told us everything there was to know about hunting and staying safe. How we should never sleep in the same spot for more than a few nights. Dakota and Honey would take shifts watching the younger ones, and eventually we would all learn to hunt like Mother did.  Otis and Bronwyn and I would soon learn to hunt and raise our own just like Mother did. Mother was a great teacher, and Honey managed to catch a squirrel before dawn the next morning. Mother always said when she died she would go with the Great Spirits. I wanted to go with Mother, but Otis said it didn’t work like that.

Oh how the stars missed you Mother. They missed you to the moon and back again. They missed the taste of freshly picked red berries off the bushes in early autumn. They missed every winter with you, sound asleep, waking up to a world of white. They missed the springtime rain, the summer sun, and everyday in between. They missed every night when you stayed by our side, eyes giving in to sleep. They missed you spending every day with us, running and jumping through the meadows, our spirits wild like the wind.

That was years ago. But I remember it like it was yesterday.