American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 230 December's Gift (5K long chapter, please vote with monthly tickets)

The assistant, a seasoned veteran, reacted swiftly, pulling his hand back as if electrocuted, barely avoiding being bitten. He stared in astonishment at December's eyes, which had instantly turned hostile.

"Hey, don't be so rude!"

Lin Yu'an's voice rang out almost simultaneously with December's low growl, cold yet filled with an undeniable protectiveness.

He immediately hugged December even tighter, pressing its head against his chest with his arms, while turning away to completely separate it from the two assistants with his broad back.
"She's just a baby less than three months old!" Lin Yu'an said firmly, looking at his two somewhat bewildered assistants.

"She is not a piece of luggage that can be stuffed into a cage! She will be scared! You cannot take her away in a cage!"

The atmosphere at the scene was somewhat awkward and tense at one point.

“Lin, please calm down.” McCormick immediately stepped forward and said in a professional yet reassuring voice, “I understand how you feel. But for long-haul flights, using an airline-issued case is the safest and most standard procedure.”

Lin Yu'an took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm the surge of emotion rising within him from heartache. He knew that a purely emotional confrontation was pointless. He had to communicate using scientific language that McCormick could understand.

He raised his head, looking directly at McCormick, his voice no longer excited, but a cold and clear statement:

“McCoz, I understand standard procedures. But standards are for standard situations. December’s situation is not standard.”

He pointed to the little guy in his arms, who was still trembling slightly, and began to make a logical analysis: "Before I found December, it had already experienced a severe 'maternal separation trauma,' which was the core of its near-death experience."

“Right now, I am her only safety beacon in her world. If we were to ‘forcibly isolate’ her again at this point where we have just established a trust relationship, it would likely trigger and deepen her previous psychological trauma.”

"This could lead her to believe that being abandoned is the norm in this world. This trauma could accompany her for the rest of her life and have an immeasurable negative impact on her future rewilding training."

“We are both aware that she has developed a very strong ‘imprint dependency’ on me. Our goal is to gradually transfer this dependency from me personally to your team and the new environment.”

"The concept of a 'cage' evokes feelings of confinement and fear in her mind. Forcing her into one will only make her equate you with negative concepts like 'cage' and 'fear.' This will greatly increase the difficulty of rebuilding trust later on."

"So, McCormick, I urge you to initiate a more humane and less risky 'soft landing' plan."

"You, the kind-hearted individual who will soon play her next important role, will hold her in your arms. You will serve as the transitional bridge between me, this 'old beacon,' and my new home in Alaska."

"I believe this is the most scientific way to hand over the responsibilities to her, and it will cause her the least psychological harm."

McCormick fell silent. She had expected to be facing an ordinary rescuer who had lost his mind due to emotions.

But she didn't expect that Lin Yu'an, in such an emotional state, could still analyze the problem so clearly and logically from the highly professional animal behavior perspectives of "superimposed psychological trauma" and "imprint dependence transfer".

He wasn't just making a request; he was delivering an irrefutable academic argument using her professional terminology.

She looked at the man before her; in his eyes, bloodshot from exhaustion, gleamed with rationality and unwavering resolve.

McCormick let out a long sigh, and a genuine smile spread across his face.

"Okay, Lin."

She gestured firmly to her two equally stunned assistants and said, "Put away the flight case. We're going to execute Lin's 'soft landing' plan."

Then, she turned to Lin Yu'an, her eyes becoming incredibly sincere: "I'm sorry, Lin. It was our habitual way of thinking. That's how we always handled rescues, but we overlooked how special the situation was in December."

“I assure you, Lin, from this moment until we reach the research center in Alaska, December will be in my arms, and I will never let her out of my sight. I will be the bridge you spoke of.”

She emphasized her words and made a promise that exceeded Lin Yu'an's expectations: "After arriving at the base, during the initial quarantine and adaptation period, I will personally serve as her sole designated caretaker."

“I will be responsible for all her feeding, care and behavioral observation until she is fully adapted to the new environment and successfully transfers her ‘imprint dependence’ on you to me and to familiarity with this new ‘nest’.”

“I will never let her face a completely unfamiliar face during her most vulnerable transition period. Only after her emotions and physiological indicators are completely stable will I gradually let her adapt to more people. I will personally supervise to ensure that nothing goes wrong.”

"As for rewilding training, that will be a long and complicated process. But until then, please believe me, I will use all my expertise to continue this hard-won protection."

Hearing this impeccable promise that "I will take full responsibility from beginning to end," Lin Yu'an's tense nerves finally calmed down completely.

He knew he could entrust his "little princess" to the scientist in front of him, who was equally responsible and loving.

Lin Yu'an knew that the time for parting had come.

For the last time, he held December tightly in his arms. The little guy seemed to sense the change in atmosphere. It stopped struggling and just used its two front paws to hug Lin Yu'an's neck tightly, burying its little head deep in the crook of his neck, making uneasy, soft whimpering sounds in its throat.

Lin Yu'an carried it and walked step by step toward the huge S-92 helicopter, whose cabin door was already open.

He carried December as he boarded the plane, where McCormick and her team were already waiting inside.

December was handed over to Dr. McCormick's arms.

McCormick held her very firmly and was very experienced, but the moment December left Lin Yu-an's embrace, she immediately began to howl anxiously!

It twisted its body, stretched its neck, and looked at Lin Yu'an, who was still standing on the gangway, its bright black eyes filled with incomprehension and panic.

"Awoo... Awoo...!"

That voice was like a knife, piercing deeply into Lin Yu'an's heart!
He quickly stepped forward, knelt down on one knee, and looked at December, who was being held by McCormick, at eye level. He reached out and stroked its furry back.

"It's okay, December, my sweet baby, it's okay." His voice trembled slightly for the first time.

“Listen to me, you’re just going to a new home, a better home, with more professional doctors, better food, and lots of friends like you.”

"Ouch...!"

December didn't listen; it seemed to sense from Lin Yu'an's eyes and tone the most terrifying emotion it had ever experienced—being abandoned.

Its body began to struggle violently, trying to break free from McCorz's embrace and run towards Lin Yu'an! But McCorz's arms held it firmly in place like iron clamps.

“Lin, you have to go.” McCormick’s expression also became extremely solemn.

“This is not a good sign. She has developed a very strong imprinting dependence on you, and we must intervene immediately to help her adapt to independence. This is crucial for her future rewilding, and it is the best way for her.”

McCormick looked at Lin Yu'an and solemnly promised, "I assure you, Lin, I will take good care of her, just like you have. This is my promise to you."

Lin Yu'an knew that McCormick was right, and she had to harden her heart.

One last time, he reached out and took December, who was still struggling violently, back into his arms from McCormick's grasp.

This time, he held her so tightly.

He pressed his lips to December's little ear, using all his tenderness to speak to it again and again.

“Listen to me, little princess. You haven’t been abandoned. You’re just going to ‘college.’ You’re going to learn how to be a real polar bear, how to hunt, how to swim, and how to live proudly on this ice field.”

"You are destined to become the Arctic Queen, the King of the Ice Fields. A king cannot be so clingy, you know?"

"You need to learn to be independent and strong. I will come to see you. I promise you, as soon as I finish my challenges here, I will fly to Alaska to see you. It's a promise."

“I will be involved in all your training, watch you grow, and watch you become stronger than any bear. Then, one day in the future, I will personally open that door and send you back to the world that truly belongs to you.”

Lin Yu'an's voice seemed to carry a peculiar power, capable of communicating across species. He was no longer merely comforting, but rather giving this little life a most solemn promise by outlining a blueprint for the future.

December, who was still struggling wildly in his arms, seemed to finally stop her violent movements, as if infected by his firm and expectant tone.

It no longer tried to break free, but its body remained tense. It simply raised its head and, with its large, watery black eyes, still filled with grievance, confusion, and deep reluctance, stared intently at Lin Yu'an's face with all its might.

December tilted her little head slightly, as if trying to understand the complex information being conveyed by the huge, warm creature in front of her.

It couldn't understand the words about "future" and "King of the Icefield," but it could sense that the sadness in his tone was no longer one of "abandonment," but rather a power of "expectation."

It seemed... in the magnificent picture that Lin Yu'an had painted for it, it saw a future that, although he was not there, was full of sunshine and power.

December stuck out its pink little tongue and gently licked Lin Yu'an's chin one last time, as if making a silent response, a promise it couldn't express yet was crystal clear to it. It seemed to have accepted the impending separation that it couldn't understand but had to face.

Seeing this scene, seeing the "sensible" look in the little guy's eyes that went beyond instinct, all the emotions that Lin Yu'an had been forcibly suppressing with his iron will instantly collapsed.

His eyes suddenly reddened the moment December licked his chin!

He fought back tears that threatened to spill, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and placed a final, deep kiss on December's fuzzy forehead, which still carried his own scent.

Then, he opened his eyes, his gaze filled with determination. Holding December's tiny body in his hands as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, he carefully and gently placed the little life he had protected for ten days and ten nights into the arms of McCormick, who had been waiting quietly by his side.

Then, he didn't look again. He was afraid that if he looked any longer, he would never be able to leave.

He turned around resolutely, each step as if he had used all his strength, and walked down the gangway.

He heard McCormick soothe December, who had begun to sob again, in a gentle voice behind him.

He heard the heavy hatch hiss under the action of the hydraulic rods, then slam shut with a bang, cutting off that little world he knew and cherished so dearly.

The helicopter's engine began to roar loudly.

He stood amidst the swirling snowstorm whipped up by the rotor blades, head tilted back, his gaze fixed on the small porthole below the cockpit, piercing through the falling snowflakes.

He knew she was there, and probably watching him.

The huge, orange-red helicopter slowly ascended vertically, then turned its nose and flew further and further away toward the distant horizon.

In the end, it became a tiny black dot, melting into the gray-white sky and snow, and disappeared completely.

The wind and snow made it hard for him to open his eyes. The icy snowflakes hit his cheeks and quickly melted, sliding down the contours of his face. It was hard to tell if it was snow water or something else.

He didn't know how long he stood there on the snow. Until the roar of the engine was completely replaced by the sound of the wind, until the whole world returned to that familiar, suffocating silence.

Until Mark came over and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Anne. It's over. You did... really well."

After a long while, Lin Yu'an slowly regained his composure from that endless sense of loss.

When I came to my senses, I realized that my cheeks were already ice-cold.

After seeing the production crew off, he returned alone, dragging his heavy steps, to the shelter that had suddenly become incredibly empty and silent.

Mark and his team had already left by helicopter. Before leaving, Mark told him, "Ann, the whole world will be proud of the choice you made today."

Lin Yu'an simply nodded.

He pushed open the door, and a familiar, warm breeze rushed in. But within that warmth, he keenly sensed that something was missing.

The white figure that would always run over immediately and rub its little head against his trouser leg was gone.

It lacks that unique, familiar scent that blends the aroma of milk and the scent of puppies.

Gone is that energetic, occasional "howl" sound...

The room still retained the milky scent of December, but it was inevitably fading little by little.

The warm, soft wolfskin bed that he had personally laid out for her was now empty.

The entire shelter seemed to have instantly lost its soul, transforming from a vibrant "home" back into a cold "nest" existing purely for survival.

He silently began packing his things, trying to fill the huge, unspeakable emptiness in his heart with mechanical, organized work.

The medical supplies and milk powder cans from December had already been taken away by McCorz's team. He had very little to pack; he simply rearranged the wolfskin bed, smoothed out every wrinkle, and added new firewood to the dying fireplace.

As he was tidying up the sleeping bag, his hand, deep inside, touched something round and elastic.

His movements suddenly froze. His heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

Slowly reaching out, her fingertips trembling, she pulled the object from the deepest part of the sleeping bag.

It was a red rubber ball.

In the dimly lit shelter, illuminated only by the firelight of the fireplace, that vivid red, like a scalding brand, instantly burned his eyes.

The surface of the ball was covered with rows of deep crescent-shaped teeth marks left by December's nibbling. His thumb unconsciously rubbed the uneven marks, each mark instantly unlocking a vivid memory.

He remembered the first time he threw the ball to it, and how startled yet curious it looked, clumsy.

He recalled the scene of it chasing the ball with its short legs, rolling around on the ground, and finally carrying its prize back to his feet with a triumphant gait.

He recalled countless afternoons when the little ball traced red arcs across the frozen lake, accompanied by its joyful "whoosh whoosh" sounds.

He could even clearly recall that just last night, it had stubbornly tried to conquer this "red prey" again and again with its still-growing baby teeth, making low growls in its throat that sounded like it was trying to be fierce.

It must have secretly used its little paws to slowly burrow it into the deepest part of its sleeping bag last night, after he fell asleep, or while they were playing and frolicking.

The little ball left behind by accident is like a child about to be separated from her parents, clumsily using the only way she can think of to hide her most beloved, one-of-a-kind toy and leave it for the most important person in her life.

Perhaps she hoped that one day in the future, when he accidentally discovers this surprise, he will remember her.

Perhaps she hoped that the lingering scent of her on it could offer him some silent companionship when he was lonely.

Lin Yu'an tightly gripped the small red ball, feeling the unique tooth mark left on it, a mark that belonged only to December.

The emotions he had forcibly suppressed with an iron will on the gangway finally transformed into an irresistible tsunami in the face of this December "gift," sweeping in.

He could no longer stand.

As if all his strength had been drained from his body, he slowly squatted down, finally kneeling on the wolf skin that still retained the rich scent of December.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to etch the last trace of her scent into the deepest part of his memory.

This tough guy, who built a snow hut in a blizzard, fought porcupines in the forest, and never flinched in the face of any danger, finally shed all his strength in absolute solitude and silence.

His body did not tremble, and not a sound came out of his throat.

However, a drop of hot, clear liquid seeped from the corner of his tightly closed eye, silently sliding down and soaking the soft wolf fur beneath him, leaving a small damp spot.

Then came the second drop, the third drop...

He wept silently, not out of weakness, but as a complex release and purification of emotions.

Fortunately, there are still six days left.

After an unknown amount of time, he slowly raised his head. His red eyes still bore traces of tears, but the emptiness of sorrow in them was replaced by an unwavering belief.

The challenge will end in six days, and he can go home.

Then he can go see her.

He gripped the small red ball tightly in his hand, as if holding a weighty promise.

Go see the little princess named December, whom he personally saved. Participate in her training and growth, and fulfill every promise he made on the icy plains!
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

(End of this chapter)