Wulver stood there as if time had frozen. The fog had followed him. It was no normal fog. The night he had earlier flashed through his head, especially the fingers around his neck. He gripped the axe hard enough that his knuckles popped. He felt quite alone and vulnerable. He wondered where he should run if whatever the fog came inside his cabin. He was brought out of his trance of fear when the fox gave a high-pitched bark towards the window. Clearly, it felt some sense of danger as well.

No longer dumb, Wulver panicked and closed the fox’s mouth shut. “Quiet,” Wulver whispered sharply. “Don’t draw its attention.” He hoped that the fog coming up to his cabin was still but a coincidence. That it was going somewhere else entirely. The fox struggled against the vice grip Wulver’s hand had around its snout and tried to scratch his arm, but Wulver’s fur kept him safe from the assault. He didn’t even care for some wounds if it helped him not face whatever it was outside his home.

And so the waiting started. One hand on the fox and one hand on the axe, Wulver waited. He didn’t know how long the time had passed, but the fox had stopped struggling against his grip. And then, he saw the fog thin. It was vanishing, slowly but surely, until the only thing that remained was the cold perspiration on the window pane. He breathed a much-needed sigh of relief and let the fox go who immediately started to scratch its snout. Wulver laid back against the wall of his bedroom and relaxed. He didn’t care for the presence of the fox anymore. Though he would not admit it, the presence of the canine soothed him, enough that sleep was coming over him. No, I have to… keep… watch… Wulver thought to himself and then fell asleep. He was exhausted.

The sun climbed over the horizon. One of the sunbeams climbed into the cabin through a tiny hole on the cabin’s roof and fell right on Wulver’s eye. Agitated, he tried to wipe it away with his hand but it belonged to the elbow which was supporting him beside the wall. He fell on his side and his cheek struck against the floor. The pain immediately jolted him awake. For a second, he looked around frantically and then at the front door. It was locked. He relaxed. Nothing had happened during the night, even though he had foolishly fallen asleep. His eyes then went to the bed. The fox there curled up, snoring. His eyes narrowed.

Wulver opened the front door. His outstretched arm came out first which held the struggling fox by the scruff of its neck. With a small swing, he threw the creature out and it landed on its feet.

Wulver snapped his fingers and pointed to the forest. “Get going. If I see you again in my cabin, you won’t be seeing the outside anymore.”

The fox snarled at him. Wulver snarled back. The fox huffed and skipped away, its orange coat dissolving into the autumn woods.

Wulver sighed. The day before felt like something out of a nightmare. But yesterday was real. And so was the fog which was gone for the time being. He wondered what he would do if it came back. And to him this time. Wulver felt lonely again.

The sound of the waterfall helped him disguise his footfalls. It was a tremendous help too for the forest floor was laden with dried leaves which cracked like how fish cracked on a pan with oil. The thought of fish made his mouth water. He imagined the smokey smell of it, the crunchy skin covering tender white meat. And oh, when you cooked it in gravy--

Stop it! Just stop it! Wulver thought. Focus on the job.

The ‘job’ which Wulver was reminding himself of was of spying bears. He was in the middle of moving behind a spruce tree which provided a great vantage point to the crest line of the waterfall and also a fine hiding spot.

He didn’t have to wait long. A sizable grizzly came lumbering from up the north. Wulver was wise enough to have made sure the wind was not behind him. Bears were excellent sniffers. He knew from his previous experience. And by luck, it was the same one which had come asking him for fish for the first time. Fortuna sees me!

The bear proceeded to wade into the river and came close to the crest line. It waited for the salmon to come flying into its jaws but none came. It looked rather confused at his predicament. There were bad finishing days, of course. The bounty was low or his skill was shoddy, but never did the bounty not arrive.

Wulver got up and came to it. The bear saw him and nodded his head and grunted a greeting.

“Hey there, fella,” Wulver said. “Fishing?”

The bear hung its head and pointed to the waterfall.

“Ah, I see, no fish biting today. Happens sometimes,” Wulver said and patted him on the back. “Say… why don’t you come to my cabin for tonight. Food’s on me.”

The bear looked unsure.

“There will be fish.”

Its ears perked and it nodded vigorously. Wulver clapped his hands. “Excellent.”

It took a few more minutes to tell him about the directions to his cabin. As Wulver was about to send it on its way, he stopped it. “Hey, did you see any fog or any strange sounds yesternight?” The bear shook his head. “Ah, it’s okay,” Wulver said. “Off you go. Remember the directions. Follow the smell of fish if you have to.”

After sending the bear on its way, Wulver descended down the waterfall through a rocky route. At the base, there was a giant net attached to the current. Two of the ends of the nets were deep in the river submerged and held in place with the help of stones. The other two were fastened onto the trees on the two sides of the river with ropes. It was Wulver’s contraption. A large school of salmon were beating themselves against the net, trying to get over it and climb the fall. But, Wulver had made sure none would be able to escape.

He did this in order to entice the bear to come to his cabin. Wulver, for the lack of a better word, was afraid to be alone when night fell. He thought the presence of the bear would help him get through the night as well as give him enough courage and support to face whatever the fog would bring if it would come back.

The net also gave him a big bounty of fish for his guest and for himself as well. He didn’t like fishing this way though. Salmon made an arduous journey from the sea into his island because their eggs could only survive in the shallow waters up north in the mountains. If he fished so voraciously, he would disturb the balance of the nature of the fish’s migration and the island as well.

“Just for this once,” Wulver said and began collecting the fish from the net.

The smell of frying fish was like music to Wulver’s ear. He had got enough fish to last him weeks. More if he dried them. Having an abundance of fish in his cabin made him much more hopeful. He didn’t even think of the fog too much. It must just be some supernatural phenomena minding its own business which just spooked him.

There was a grunt at the front door. It was that of the bear. Wulver smiled. “Coming,” he said cheerily. Ah, things are finally going well.

He went and opened the door, and gave a soft shriek. There were six bears plopped down on his porch. They grunted their greetings and looked at him eagerly.

“You brought your friends,” Wulver said.

The bear nodded and grunted happily.

So much for ‘fish for weeks.’