“The Bristle Pact” By Bear (with a little help from a wise porcupine)
In the heart of the Forest Fellowship, Bear was known for his big hugs, booming laugh, and complete disregard for personal space. He loved everyone—squirrels, skunks, even the moody badger—and assumed they all loved him back. But one creature remained mysteriously unhuggable: Porcupine. Every time Bear tried to greet him with a pawful of affection, he ended up with a pawful of splinters. “You’re like a walking cactus with attitude!” Bear grumbled, nursing his latest poke.
Porcupine, perched calmly on a log, replied without blinking, “And you’re like a fuzzy avalanche with boundary issues.” The forest fell silent. Even Owl raised an eyebrow. Bear blinked. “Boundary issues?” he repeated, as if the phrase had wandered in from another ecosystem. Porcupine nodded. “God gave me quills for a reason. Not to push others away, but to remind them that closeness isn’t the same as connection.”
Bear spent the day sulking under a berry bush, pondering Porcupine’s words. He thought about how he’d barged into nests, interrupted naps, and assumed his hugs were healing when sometimes they were just... intrusive. That night, he prayed beneath the stars: “Lord, help me love like You do—with wisdom, not just warmth.” The next morning, Bear approached Porcupine with a gentle nod and a paw raised—not for a hug, but for a respectful wave.
Porcupine smiled. “Look at that. Growth without splinters.” From that day on, Bear became the forest’s ambassador of respectful affection. He still gave hugs—but only with permission. And Porcupine? He became Bear’s closest friend, proving that even the prickly ones have purpose. Together, they taught the forest that boundaries aren’t barriers—they’re bridges built with trust, space, and a little comic relief.
Susan Barker Nikitenko August 27th, 2025©
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