Beneath the towering pines of Whispering Woods lived an unlikely pair: Bramble the bear and Clover the cat. Bramble was a hulking, honey-loving giant with a voice like rolling thunder. Clover was a sleek, quick-witted tabby with eyes that gleamed like polished amber.
Their friendship began one chilly autumn afternoon when Clover, chasing a darting butterfly, tumbled straight into Bramble's den. Bramble had been preparing for his winter nap, stacking berries in neat piles. The startled bear blinked down at the trembling cat.
"You're not a berry," Bramble rumbled.
"I'm not dinner either!" Clover shot back, arching her back.
To her surprise, Bramble laughed - a warm, deep sound that shook the walls. He offered her a paw-sized berry as a peace offering, and from that day forward, the two were inseparable.
Bramble taught Clover how to find the sweetest honeycombs, and Clover showed Bramble how to climb trees - not very gracefully, but enough to snatch a stubborn beehive or two. When Bramble grew sleepy as winter approached, Clover promised to visit every day to make sure the snow didn't pile too high at his door.
One evening, as Bramble's eyelids drooped heavily, a sharp wind howled through the woods. The cold crept into his den, biting at his fur. Clover knew her friend wouldn't wake up easily - bears slept deeply - but she couldn't let him shiver.
So Clover darted through the forest, gathering leaves, moss, and even some forgotten scarves from a nearby cabin. She stacked them over Bramble like a quilt until his snores deepened and his breathing slowed, warm and peaceful.
When Bramble woke in spring, feeling cozy and well-rested, he found Clover curled up beside him, fast asleep. With a careful paw, Bramble tucked her into his fur and smiled.
"Best berry I ever found," he whispered.
Their friendship began one chilly autumn afternoon when Clover, chasing a darting butterfly, tumbled straight into Bramble's den. Bramble had been preparing for his winter nap, stacking berries in neat piles. The startled bear blinked down at the trembling cat.
"You're not a berry," Bramble rumbled.
"I'm not dinner either!" Clover shot back, arching her back.
To her surprise, Bramble laughed - a warm, deep sound that shook the walls. He offered her a paw-sized berry as a peace offering, and from that day forward, the two were inseparable.
Bramble taught Clover how to find the sweetest honeycombs, and Clover showed Bramble how to climb trees - not very gracefully, but enough to snatch a stubborn beehive or two. When Bramble grew sleepy as winter approached, Clover promised to visit every day to make sure the snow didn't pile too high at his door.
One evening, as Bramble's eyelids drooped heavily, a sharp wind howled through the woods. The cold crept into his den, biting at his fur. Clover knew her friend wouldn't wake up easily - bears slept deeply - but she couldn't let him shiver.
So Clover darted through the forest, gathering leaves, moss, and even some forgotten scarves from a nearby cabin. She stacked them over Bramble like a quilt until his snores deepened and his breathing slowed, warm and peaceful.
When Bramble woke in spring, feeling cozy and well-rested, he found Clover curled up beside him, fast asleep. With a careful paw, Bramble tucked her into his fur and smiled.
"Best berry I ever found," he whispered.