Three Bears

Three bears were sitting in the woods. The largest was covered in fluffy black fur, and despite his, size, there was a gentleness about him. The smallest had short brown fur patched through with scars, and a cunning glint in her eye that promised trouble to any that irritated her.
The third bear, was not a bear at all.
Clothed in a onesie that had a bear ear hood was a little boy with curly brown hair. He couldn't have been more than four, but although his cheeks held the evidence of past tears, right at that moment he was sleepily content to lean against the black bear's side.
"You can't keep it, Thomas," the brown bear growled, glancing down at the child with distaste. "Those kind go crazy when they see one of ours near their young. Do you really want to get caught up in that kind of mess right before summer begins?"
Thomas the black bear looked down at the boy, noting that he'd finally fallen asleep. "Look at him, Tilda, he's defenseless. If I'd left him where he was, something hungry would've come along and ate him."
Tilda huffed and and gave Thomas a look. "That cub is hardly a mouthful. Besides, it's mother is probably searching the forest for it. Do you really want to get between a mother and her cub?"
Thomas kept looking at the boy sleeping against him, something sorrowful in his gaze. "She isn't," he turned to look at Tilda, and she stiffened a little at his tone. "I found him at one of those clearing dens his kind like to make for a few days before abandoning. Their den was torn apart, and the only sign I could find of his mother was some blood in the destroyed den. He was all alone, Tilda, and no one was coming back."
Tilda looked away from Thomas, stifling a growl at the scene he'd described. "Was there any sign if what destroyed the den?"
"Nothing native to the forest." Thomas answered.
Tilda looked back down at the boy. "If they come for him, you've got let him go, Thomas."
"If they come for him, to care for him, then I will." Thomas agreed. Then he gave menacing growl that was only tempered enough that it would wake the sleeping boy. "But if those who destroyed his den come, if they try and harm him, I will destroy them."
Tilda bared her teeth. "You? Oh no, dear friend. You will get the cub to safety, while I rip them apart."
Thomas gave a rumbling laugh. "Fair enough."
"Now, if you're keeping him, the cob will need a name," Tilda said.
"Berry," Thomas said, warmth filling his voice again. "After all, I was looking for some berry bushes when I found him."
"Berry it is," Tilda said.
With that, the two bears settled rest, certain the coming summer would bring even more challenges now that there was a cub to care for.