Beth and James arrived in the Japanese Alps after yet another petty argument. It had started before they left Tokyo and then worsened when they reached Shinshimashima train station and were unable to agree on their onward bus route. When they finally found the right bus for Kamikochi, a previous disagreement resurfaced regarding their accommodation. Beth had wanted to book a hotel; James had insisted on the log cabins at the edge of the campsite. He’d won in the end, but when she was tired and hungry she started grizzling about his choice again.

Beth read in their guide book that there was a healthy population of bears in Kamikochi, but no one they spoke to at the campsite had seen one. That evening, they sat outside in the half-light of dusk and listened to the macaques chattering in the trees. Beth couldn’t settle, sure there were bears all around them, convinced they would come down to the cabins in search of food in the night, that they would rummage through the remains of barbecues and tear the lids off bins. When they went to bed, their hair scented with woodsmoke from the camp fire, she lay awake until the early hours, listening out for the slightest noise, watching the moon through the skylight.

She thought about getting up, considered taking James’s mobile from the shelf at the side of his futon so she could check his messages and calls. But Beth knew she had to start trusting him again, that she couldn’t spend her whole life suspecting him, searching his pockets, monitoring his phone, inventing scenarios in her head. He told her he had ended things with Tanya, that he wanted them to try again, that now it was up to her. So, she had several choices. She could believe him, or make plans to leave him, or spend every waking hour worrying about where he was and what he was doing. Or she could do all of those things in turn, as she had been doing for the past two months. It was easy for James to say that it was “up to her”. It was and it wasn’t. Her heart was broken, but she still loved him. He seemed to think she could click her fingers and forgive and forget, that they could move on and not look back. Beth knew it was too soon to forgive him, yet for the next three weeks she was determined to try to forget. She didn’t want to spoil the trip they’d been planning for over two years.

When they walked across to the café for breakfast, they noticed signs at the visitor centre which chalked up details of recent bear sightings – none – and offered safety advice: Please walk with the bell for giving bear notice!

The campsite shop was filled with a plethora of jangling kumayoke suzu and Beth insisted they bought a shiny red bell. However, they still set off unarmed, James having decided that the constant clanking would disturb the birds they hoped to see, and scare off the elusive kamoshika mountain goats. He wrapped the bell in a bandana to silence it, then tucked it in the side pocket of his rucksack. Beth was still unsure, but somehow everything seemed safer when the sun was shining and crowds of Japanese tourists were strolling back and forth along the paths.

Their day’s climb started at Taisho Pond, a place Beth found strangely haunting. Blackened, withered trees reached up out of the clear water, a reminder that the lake was formed by the last eruption of a nearby active volcano. James had picked up a map of the different walking trails in the visitor centre, and Beth followed him up the lower slopes through the trees, jumping at the snap of a twig or the whir of a bird’s wings. James climbed fast, striding ahead, and as the canopy became denser and the forest darkened, Beth became more nervous. She wanted to turn back, even though she knew she was being foolish, and she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, then up towards where the tree line ended, convinced she could see shapes moving in the gloom.

After two hours of climbing they emerged from the forest, and Beth stopped for a few moments in the sudden warmth, catching her breath before the final ascent, any fear of bears dissipated by the sunshine. James carried on, scrambling up the scree towards the higher path. He turned and shouted to her as he reached the top of the ridge.

‘The first of the mountain huts is up here, Beth, exactly where I thought!’ He pointed with his walking pole. ‘I’ll see you there.’

She followed him up the slopes, stopping occasionally to admire alpine flowers, turning to take in the view as she put some distance between herself and the tree line. She found the marked path which led to the hut and followed the route James had just taken. As she climbed the last fifty metres she was sure she heard the brief high-pitched beep of a text notification, and the sound filled her with dread and suspicion. When she reached the plateau of flat-topped stones, she caught James slipping his phone back into his pocket. He walked towards her, his face flushed with guilt and embarrassment, and she felt her stomach twist.

‘Let’s have our rice snacks and water,’ he said quickly. ‘There’s a great place to sit in front of the hut – fabulous views.’

She followed him and sat down on the flat rocks, her heart still racing, her ribcage aching with the familiar foreboding. Still high above them were the snow-capped peaks of Hotaka, and below them the river flowed like mercury through the valley. In the distance, barely perceptible wisps of white smoke hung in the still air above the sleeping fire dragon of Yakedake volcano, and Beth found herself shivering despite the warm autumn sunshine.

‘Was that your phone I heard?’ she asked.
‘Phone? Do you really think there’d be a signal up here? You’re becoming paranoid, Beth. Don’t spoil the day.’
‘Me? Me spoil the day? It’s you who’s made me paranoid. I’m on edge all the time, wondering about every text and every call, about where you are when you’re late home from work. If you’ve nothing to hide, then look me straight in the eye and tell me she hasn’t contacted you. Better still, let me see your phone messages.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Beth.’ He laughed, but he didn’t make eye contact with her, he looked up at the mountains instead.
She held out her hand. ‘Go on, give the phone to me. Show me you’re innocent.’
‘You’re being . . .’ He suddenly faltered, lifting his hand in greeting to someone on the slope above – a man in a red jacket waving a silver walking pole.
James stood up. ‘Quit it now, Beth; this guy is heading over here.’
‘I know it’s still going on, James, I absolutely know,’ she hissed.

As she finished speaking, the climber arrived at the hut, announcing his presence with the clanking of a large bear bell. Beth managed to feign a smile as he introduced himself to them, but she left most of the talking to James. Motoki spoke little English, and when he ran out of vocabulary the three of them communicated with exaggerated gestures. They laughed too loudly and nodded too wildly, and when Beth did join in the conversation there was a brittle brightness to her words.

They offered their new acquaintance chocolate, and he offered a flask of green tea in return. Beth and James didn’t exchange a word between them as they packed away the remains of their food, and when they set off, they began their slow descent close on Motoki’s heels. As they walked in silence, Beth completely forgot about the possibility of bears, her mind still whirring, wondering if James was telling the truth and if she was simply being paranoid. After all, was it likely there was a phone signal on the top of a mountain?

Deep in thought, she was caught off guard when Motoki’s outstretched arm brought them to an abrupt standstill. They froze mid-step as though competing in a game of musical statues. When she looked up, her eye was caught by a dense black rock just above the tree line. It stood out against the pale scree, and when she refocused, the boulder became bear. She could make out the tilt and sway of his salt and pepper muzzle as he tried to catch their scent, and the glint of eyes like polished coals. When they stumbled to a halt there was a mesmeric moment as he continued to walk towards them. As he reared up onto his hind legs, Beth swore he looked her straight in the eye, poised and sure, calmly weighing up his options. Not afraid to let her see what he was thinking, quite prepared to show his cards, to be clear about his intentions.

Then Motoki jangled the bell on his rucksack, and just as swiftly as he’d turned towards them, the bear dropped to the ground and loped away without looking back.

Dizzy with adrenaline, they remained motionless, stiff as statues, until Motoki gestured down the mountainside with sweeping arm movements to indicate that they should keep moving. Beth scrambled after him, pleased to have company and not to be alone with James, happy with their enforced silence, relieved to listen to nothing more than the clamorous clanking of the bear bell until they reached the campsite.

James dropped a short way behind them to take some final photographs of the views across the mountains in the afternoon light. It was the last chance to see Yakedake before they were plunged deep into the forest again. Beth turned back at one point, reluctant to lose sight of him despite her current anger. James waved her on, told her he’d catch up with them, shaking his belt to show her he’d clipped on the bear bell they’d bought that morning.

At the edge of the trees, Beth stopped for a moment again, sure she had heard something behind her: rocks tumbling; scree scattering; a muffled cry, eerily human; a soft growl. The sounds echoed across the mountain in the stillness, and her heart raced. She tried to call out, but the words stuck in her throat, and when she listened again all she could hear was the fading tinkle of a bell.

***********************
The story first appeared in the collection An Unfamiliar Landscape (Valley Press 2022), which is available from Amazon, Waterstones online etc, or via the Valley Press online shop: https://www.valleypressuk.com/shop/p/unfamiliar-landscape

Amanda Huggins is the author of the award-winning novellas All Our Squandered Beauty and Crossing the Lines and seven collections of short stories and poetry. She has won numerous prizes for her work, including the Colm Tóibín Short Story Award, the H. E. Bates Short Story Prize and the BGTW New Travel Writer of the Year. Her fiction has been broadcast several times on BBC Radio. To see her award-winning entry in the WiK Competition, please look here.