The Lair of the Bear was exceptionally messy. There was a fire in the center of it, and there were books everywhere, on bookcases that were higgledy-piggledy and wandered all over the place with the tree roots. Then there were birds perching on the books, and the visitors had to be careful not to step on the droppings and not to knock over smaller fires with little cauldrons on them everywhere you looked.
Even as they came in, one of the cauldrons was boiling over. Great violet-colored smoke bubbles came out of it and landed on some papers on the floor, which promptly burst into the flames. The bear broke into a gentle run and extinguished the flames by sitting on them. Hsss.
“Whoops,” said the bear guiltily. “I forgot I left that on.”
“Wow!” said Wish, looking around the room. The birds whirled into the air, trilling and clucking and twittering, then flew off to fetch blankets, holding them by the edges in their beaks and draping them around the shivering children and the wolves and the snowcats. “What a wonderful room! And thank you so much for saving us in the forest back there. I cannot tell you how grateful we are…”
“Hmmm,” said the bear. “One of them has manners, at least. That’s a start.”