Their bodies were graceful as dancers, slipping through the sparking current, surging against the stream. In and out, they waltzed, moving towards home, towards paradise. They were so close they could taste it. The familiar earthy scent of their birthplace was already tickling their turned up nostrils; the patterns in the gravel, like fresh marigolds, were leading the way, welcoming them back. Relief and recognition pulsed through them, aiding them in grueling inch forward—just a few more hours, and their journey will have been worth it.

But as the pair rushed down the roaring river, they noticed a stark figure waiting for them, watching intently as fate.

Its golden eyes locked onto their beady ones, burning like tiny suns in a dark, starless sky. It was too late to hide or turn back around, but if they could outsmart it, they might just make it. Swimming around each other like Pisces, they fought hard against the waves, harder than they’d ever fought before. Hungry hands plunged into the cold water; still, the pair evaded them for one minute, two, until the water began to calm again. They were wearing down the hunter.

They were safe.

With newfound pride in their movements, they continued on their path, frolicking along like happy seals. The bloodline would persevere, their children would be part of the next generation. The battle to survive was in its last stages; soon, there would only be peace.

But just as they were about to round their last bend, a heavy claw grasped their bodies, pinning them to the river bottom. Wriggling, they tried to get away, but their strength betrayed them. Blood filled the water like red smoke, billowing out as they were lifted up, up, up, toward the surface, and into the hunter’s impatient fangs.

For the salmon, however strong, were no match for the bear in the end.