[ WP ] All animals you ever made eye contact with ran from you ... ( continued ) .

Andrew Byrne did n't like animals. He knew they did n't like him, either. Although he never quite knew why, he had his theories. 
 
 The voices in his head told him the truth, sometimes, but usually, he could n't take anything they offered without a grain of salt. He knew animals, much like trees, teachers, and parents, were dense and primitive creatures, and that's why he could n't accept it when the whispers spoke only of their brilliance and judgment on his rather dark life. 
 
 `` They saw,'' they'd say- everything is *they* -'' the school go up.'' 
 
 `` You're *lying*,'' he'd hiss back from behind his desk in the attic. 
 
 `` Have we ever lied to you, Andrew?'' They laughed with a blend of titters and guffaws; he knew and loathed the sarcasm on their tongues. 
 
 The young man decided he'd heard enough. If, *if* those creatures had seen *anything*, action had to be taken. `` It's only a crime if you get caught,'' his father had told him. Andrew had n't been caught yet. 
 
 He took his butane torch and a bag of marshmallows to the South Pines. With his hand full of kindling and his back to the marked ignition point, he could swear he heard whispers- not the normal whispers -singing all around him. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he gripped a few Zippos reassuringly. After the fear passed through his spine and down his legs, Andrew turned back to the first place he'd seen fire, which he knew better than to hope would also be his last. 
 
 A black bear stood on its hind legs on the burned `` X'', staring the boy down. 
 
 `` We know why you're here.'' A voice filled Andrew's head in a way the others never did; it rang fully, completely- it was foreign. *The bear wants to stop you, Andrew*, the normal chorus cried, *do n't let it. * 
 
 `` Good,'' he spat, throwing the kindling down and snatching a matchbook from one of his back pockets. 
 
 `` Please wait; I'd like to talk to you.'' The presence was... concerned? The young arsonist had heard that tone faked so convincingly by his parents, his sister, his teachers, and the authenticity in the voice shocked him. 
 
 Fighting the prompts growing thunderous within, Andrew spoke. `` I'm listening.'' 
 
 `` We know what the voices in your head tell you about us, young man. Do you want to know why, in honesty? Why the animals do n't like you?'' 
 
 The bear fell to all four paws and padded closer, never breaking the willful link that bound him and his enemy. Andrew nodded, brows furrowed less in rage than confusion. He *knew* they'd lied to him. 
 
 `` We *do* know what you've done. We *do* know what you hear, what you think, how you're different from the rest of the people you know. You're unique.'' 
 
 `` Thanks.'' Renewed spite forced the word from between his lips. 
 
 `` You are one of so few addicted to fire, in this world; it's a powerful addiction, we know. You hurt and burn and we see that, we *feel* that, and we run because we know you wo n't let us help you.'' 
 
 `` Help me? I've been helped plenty, believe me. No bear's going to help me any more than my parents or Dr. Reynolds or Professor White could.'' 
 
 `` Please let us try, Andrew, fire-wielder.'' The bear stood, much closer than Andrew had realized, and wrapped its paws around his slack arms, crushing him in a literal bear hug. 
 
 `` We need the good you in this world; we do not need the fear you bring when you hurt.'' Tears stained the beast's fur as clouds lifted from within the mental child's mind. 
 
 `` Only you,'' the voice echoed in his head, *alone*, as the bear broke their embrace, `` you,'' prodding him in the chest softly with a bent paw, `` can prevent forest fires.''
