Promise of Plums
The bear wasn't fuzzy as her mother had said. The bear's fur was thick, almost wooly, and even though it left an unpleasant residue on her small, plump hands, she kept patting the huge forehead.
Always one to savor a scratch, she leaned into the girl a bit. Not being particularly hungry or violent beyond necessity, the bear was happy to observe this grabby pink creature for while. She pitied it a little, in her own way--its obvious frailty and misfortune of being both oblivious to predators and having no natural camouflage. The bear raised her snout and sniffed. The creature smelled vaguely like wild autumn plums, which made the beast salivate. A long, syrupy string of spit fell from her mouth and landed on the girl's shoe. Giggling, the girl clapped her hands and hopped on the muddy ground.
"Come on, now! It's almost dinner time and you must have your bath first!" She began skipping down the path and glanced over her shoulder. "Come on!" she called insistently. The bear sniffed the air and loped after her, hoping the little animal would lead her to a large pile of plums.