Jerome Barnes

The Lynx Who Ran Into The Fire She begged me to follow her back in. I was on fire watch in the mountains when a lynx walked straight toward me through the smoke. The forest was burning on both sides of the trail. She stared at me, then turned and walked deeper into the fire. I couldn't understand why she kept going deeper, until I saw it. Her cub. Stuck under a heavy, burned log. Too small to get out. Crying. I lifted the log and pulled him free with my gloves. He was covered in ash. I cleared the log, expecting her to grab him and run off with him. But she didn't. She picked him up and followed me all the way to the house I was stationed at. On the wooden deck, she kept pawing at the glass door until I let them both in. I washed off the soot in the bathtub. That's when I realized the fire had left more behind than dirt. For the next few days, food and sleep seemed to be helping. They ate side by side on the cabin floor. They started playing again. I thought they were finally settling in. Until one crackle from the fireplace. One small pop sent them straight back into a panic. She grabbed her cub and kept moving him away from the fire. Again and again. I understood. I put the fire out. Poured water on it. Only then did she stop moving him and lie down. After weeks of recovering, they left together across the green field. I thought that was goodbye. A few days later, they were back. Making themselves at home on my porch. A few weeks later, she came for breakfast. She led us to a muddy hole in the field. Three more cubs trapped inside, crying. We jumped in. We pulled them out, one by one. That morning, we sat on the porch of the red cabin with coffee, mountains behind us. Her babies climbed all over our boots. She rested her head on my knee and closed her eyes. Kindness is never forgotten.