“There,” he said, pointing to another print in the snow. “This is the darndest bear I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t it ever go down on its forepaws?”
Mattie didn’t answer. She knew he didn’t expect her to do so.
They followed the prints for a good while longer. Every step they took gave Mattie a tiny thrill. She wasn’t allowed to go down the mountain, only to places close to the cabin that William approved. It had taken a long time for her to earn that privilege, too. At first she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him, not even to the outhouse.
The forest didn’t look any different but Mattie was still deeply aware that she was in a place that was forbidden and new.
After some time her mind began to wander, as it often did, and the tune for that song drifted over her again, but she couldn’t quite catch the words. If she knew the words then she could grab another part of the dream, a hazy thing that was just out of reach.
William halted abruptly and Mattie noticed just in time, jolted out of her reverie before she plowed into his back.
“Where did it go?” he said. “The prints just stop here.”
They stood in a small clearing, the towering pines surrounding them like a fairy circle.
（but how do I know that when I’ve never seen one except maybe I have there’s Heather crouching in the grass pointing at the mushrooms saying it’s a fairy circle）
William stood still for a moment, his eyes darting all around the clearing, but there was nothing to see except unbroken snow.
“What did it do, fly away?” he said.
“Maybe we turned in the wrong direction,” Mattie said tentatively.
“There’s a print just outside the clearing and it’s facing this direction,” William said. “I’m not a fool, Mattie, not like you.”
“Of course,” she murmured. Her heart pounded faster, because when she made these kinds of mistakes he had to correct her.
But William was far more interested in the mystery of the bear at that moment. He continued scanning the area for any sign he might have missed.
Mattie backed out of the clearing, retracing her steps to the last print. It was another rear paw, and it was certainly odd that there was only evidence of rear ones. The animal was definitely not behaving like any bear that Mattie had ever seen. She inspected the trees that surrounded the clearing.
“There!” she said, pointing to the claw marks high up on the trunk of one of the trees.
William came to stand beside her, his gaze following the direction of her finger. They both looked higher, into the thick cover of pine needles. Mattie half-expected to see a bear sleeping on a branch high above, but of course there wasn’t one. That was a foolish thought she’d had. The bear that went with that paw print would surely be too large to sleep on a tree branch.
William was checking nearby trees now for any other signs. “Nothing,” he said, and then seemed to come to a decision. “That’s enough of this foolishness. There’s work to be done.”
That meant William had decided Mattie had wasted his time with her information about the fox, and that if she didn’t do her chores exactly right the rest of the day she would pay for it.
Mattie thought of her sewing basket, filled with William’s clothes that needed mending, and felt a little thrum of anxiety. She was not a natural seamstress. Her stiches were neat but she took a long time about them. William blamed Mattie’s mother who, he said, “should have taught you the proper arts of a woman instead of leaving them to me.”
Early in their marriage William had given her some ancient pattern books, their edges yellowed and frayed. By painstakingly following the directions, Mattie was able to slowly teach herself how to make and mend their clothes. She remembered spending many nights hunched over scraps of cloth, the tips of her fingers raw and bleeding, while William watched her in the flickering candlelight.
He always watched her, even when she thought he wasn’t.
They started back toward the cabin, following their own boot prints in the snow. Mattie could tell from the hunch of William’s shoulders that he was irritated. He hadn’t been able to solve the mystery of the print and now he was realizing just how long they’d wasted on this fool’s errand.
Because of me, Mattie thought resignedly. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about the fox after all. But if I hadn’t then I would have been in more trouble for taking too long checking the snares.
There wasn’t any correct answer for Mattie. There never was. All she could do was gnaw on her thoughts like a nervous little chipmunk.