Love pondered deeply on how to get the bear out of the trap she had set for him. He was a crucial part of her plan, meant to be rescued from his idleness and welcomed into companionship; however, when she thought of how to pull him out, her mind only went to a traditional mechanical well. She needed a device to hoist the beast out of the hole, yet she had neither a metal axle nor bamboo stalks to fashion one, even if she did have a strong enough rope.
Love felt exasperated by her dilemma. While she had created the trap, she hadn't intended for the bear to be permanently trapped; her initial plan was to kill it, but now she had to improvise—some "smart" hunter she was. She stared at the bear, refusing to let go of the chance to gain such a tank of warfare—a creature with immense combat mastery, a perfect mount for long journeys and a companion in this lonely world.
Boredom soon overcame her emotional contemplation, so she went into her basket bag to grab some jerky. In her haste, she kicked a few stones into the hole. She quickly turned to apologize, fearing she had hit the beast's head, but she saw the bear had already padded the area, protecting itself. Love scoffed at the animal's intuition and was about to commend it when she realized"That's it!" With a burning sense of determination, she began grabbing large, flat stones, hurling them into the padding the bear had created. To her surprise, the bear seemed to agree with her plan, shifting any stone that landed too far away closer into the pile to aid its own rescue.
A stack of rocks rose swiftly from the padded floor, effectively dividing the earthen pit into three levels: the base where the bear stood, the mid-point platform of stones, and the sunlit rim above. The trap that had been his prison for three days was now a crude stone staircase. Sensing the barrage of stones had ended, the bear scrambled up the improvised steps, leaping where his claws couldn't find a grip.
As he crested the edge and felt level ground beneath his paws, he drew a deep breath. It wasn't the moist, stagnant air of the pit—thick with the heat of his own breath and soggy fur—but the crisp air of freedom. He looked at the surrounding vegetation as if seeing it for the first time, granting the greenery a value he had never considered before. In the hollowed dark of the hole, his world had been shadows and a single overhead patch of light; now, bathed in brilliant white light, he marveled at the explosion of colors around him.
After a moment of quiet wonder, the bear's excitement faded into a steady, calm gaze as he turned to face Love. He remained still, hesitant to take the first step toward her. Love met his eyes with a conflicted expression; he could almost see her replaying the memory of his family's ferocious attack. He wondered if she could ever truly accept him.
For the bear, however, the resentment had long since evaporated. The savory taste of the roasted meat she had shared—nearly her entire kill—had softened the jagged hatred he once felt. He had made his peace with the past, understanding the singular, cold truth of their world: in the jungle, one either kills or is killed. It wasn't malice; it was survival.
However, that was not the case for Love. While she didn't hold resentment regarding her fight with the bear family, she still had mixed feelings about the bear joining her as a companion. Despite the fact that she longed to grow her arsenal of weapons, she had to be careful not to just pick anyone she met on the road—especially if that someone was someone she would be depending on to keep her alive if everything went south.
Love lit up a single tongue of amber flame on her hand; the flame didn't leave her finger but burned brightly as if it were home. Every time the fire started to fade or burn faintly, she increased its intensity. Love had long noticed that staring at the flames she summoned calmed her down, preventing her from making rash decisions and prompting her to think clearly. However, because she frequently increased the intensity of the flame whenever it threatened to go out, the result was a single, brightly burning flame. Yet, that single flame was one of the most dangerous projectiles Love could summon.
While a contrast to a ball of compressed, extremely volatile flame, this flame was not compressed; rather, it was the result of her constant obsession with its intensity. It differed from a fireball because it had no round shape, but rather an ordinary cone-like figure, with the tip burning with a golden hue and the base as red as a tomato. Furthermore, while the fireball was volatile and exploded on impact, this flame was just extremely excited—though dangerous. Because of this intensity, a novice fire magician might make a mistake handling such a flame close to their fists, causing their fingers, hand, and skin to burn swiftly upon impact.
In the hands of Love, however, she didn't try controlling the fire. Instead, she shot the excited flame with terrific aim into a prepared bundle of sticks and wood, causing the fire to burn like a campfire. Next, she strung a piece of beef jerky on a stick and proceeded to roast it to give it a greasy, warm taste. What was most spectacular about all this was that she performed all these actions absentmindedly while thinking about what to do with the bear.
The bear, however, was running around the patches of grass nearby, not daring to come any closer. Immediately after the meat was cooked sufficiently, she called to the bear with a whistling sound. The bear was filled with admiration at how the girl had whistled, wondering what she was whistling for. However, when he turned to face her, she whistled again and gestured for him to draw closer. The bear looked stunned for a second, but he complied with Love's instructions. He moved closer, but when he was one and a half meters from Love, he didn't draw any closer; he deliberated whether he should move farther away or draw closer, but remained at that spot.
Love smiled beautifully as she threw something at the bear's face. The bear tried to evade the object, but on second thought, he remained at the spot. A familiar sense of uneasiness, wariness, and worry washed over him, and he only remained there through sheer willpower and a faint hope that the girl would give him her mark of approval. However, when the object landed on his head, he felt no pain, only a soft slap. He lowered his head as the object fell to the ground and growled happily, shaking around and uprooting pieces of dirt from the soil. His wish had come true: Love had bestowed her mark on him, a mark that was delicious, warm, and greasy. Yes, a delicious, greasy meat. After the upturning of dirt, the bear proceeded to eat the piece of meat to show appreciation—not because he was hungry, but because he wanted her to know, just as she had already shown him, that he had no ill intentions towards her.
Eating the slab of roasted meat wasn't enough to express the bundle of happiness the bear felt toward Love. As soon as he finished the delicious morsel, he began to edge forward—slowly at first, then letting his emotions give him the final push he darted straight forward to Love. He drew close and showed his affection by bowing his head and attempting to embrace her with his soggy fur, making soft, rhythmic sounds as he accepted her as his rightful master.
Love's smile widened as she sensed his total lack of ill intent, but she instinctively shrank back as the massive, damp creature moved in for a cuddle. The bear paused, looking confused by her retreat, but Love quickly leaned back in. She tapped his head softly, explaining the desperate need for a bath. She emphasized her words loudly, using exaggerated hand signs to direct him toward the water.
When the bear reached the lake's edge, he didn't just wade in; he leaped with a massive splash. A wall of water drenched Love's ragged brown clothes. Instead of getting angry, she simply giggled, wiping the droplets from her face.
"I think," she said, her voice bright, "I shall call you Rupert."