If the hole was bigger, Bear could simply pull his paw free. Careful not to strike him, I dug around the edges with my hooves, kicking in the dirt to broaden it.
"Try now," I said.
Bear tentatively pulled his arm back, then let out a frightened snort when nothing happened. He was getting increasingly agitated. I didn't blame him. Being stuck was already a terrible feeling — I couldn't imagine how awful it felt to be stuckandunable to communicate.
Another idea popped into my head, one that was so obvious I felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.
"Bear, if you shift into your human form, I don't think you'd be stuck anymore, since your hand's smaller than your paw."
But the mere suggestion terrified him. He shook his head vehemently. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He was breathing too hard, approaching panic.
"Okay, okay, never mind. You don't have to do that. We'll think of something else, okay?"
Bear gave me a tiny nod. Anxiety radiated from him in waves. I felt so bad for him. I had to fix this fast.
Since kicking the hole open didn't work, I needed more dexterous tools. I shifted to use my hands. To do that, I needed to get up close and personal.
"I'm going to pull out your paw," I said. "Is that okay?"
Bear nodded frantically.
His eyes were glazed with terror, like he wasn't quite paying attention to what I was saying. I hated seeing him this way.
Bear's paw was stuck at an awkward angle. The only way to get my hands around it was to physically be underneath him. Careful not to jostle him, I slipped between his arms with my back to his chest. His coarse fur tickled me on all sides. Behind me, I felt his heart pounding against his ribs, even through his thick pelt. He was trembling from stress.
Would I have been this panicked if I was in the same situation? Or was there something else going on that I didn't know about?
No time to think about that now. Bear needs me.
It was a tight squeeze, but I wiggled my fingers between the hard packed earth and the pad of Bear's paw. It was impossible not to notice how much bigger his paw was than my hand.
"Okay, I'm gonna move you around a bit…"
In response, I felt something cold and wet on my back beneath the nape of my neck. It jolted me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Bear's eyes were squeezed shut and he was pressing his nose against my skin. He was trying to soothe himself. A wave of sympathy flooded me.
"Everything's gonna be okay," I said gently. "You'll be free soon. Don't worry."
He exhaled sharply. The heat of his breath made my skin tingle.
My concern sharpened my determination. I squeezed and wiggled Bear's paw, slowly and carefully pulling it out of the crevice. When he felt his palm budge, Bear grunted in hopeful surprise. But he was impatient. As soon as he found some give, he tried to yank his arm backwards. It wedged his claws into the earth, slowing down our progress. Bear let out a frustrated wail.
I turned around to face him. His snout was an inch from my nose. He looked distraught.
"Listen to me," I said, firm but gentle. "I'm going to get you out of here. But I need you to stay as calm as possible and don't move."
Bear's frantic breathing slowed down.
"Thank you. Just trust me, all right?"
Bear's eyes flickered. For one second, all his anxiety vanished. Then reality returned and he nodded, eager to be free.
With Bear as relaxed as he could be, I resumed my rescue mission. I thanked the gods that I was a shifter, because this would be impossible without opposable thumbs. I unhooked each of Bear's claws from the dirt, then shimmied the whole paw up and out of the tight crevice for good.
When Bear was free, he wrapped his arms around me and fell backwards on his side, clutching me for dear life. My face was smushed against his furry neck. His heart was racing. It was like he was afraid I would fall into the crevice, too.
"It's okay, everything's fine," I said with a breathy laugh.
Bear whimpered and dragged his long, wet tongue up my face.
