Henri Matisse The Window

Henri Matisse The WindowHenri Matisse The Green LineHenri Matisse Red Fish
he saw what he was looking for: a narrow gully leading back between jagged walls, and at the entrance, a large, low boulder.
He clambered steadily toward it. Beneath his huge feet, dry bones snapped loudly in the stillness, because many men had died Iorek Byrnison moved around to the upper side. It was a good shelter from an enemy below, but not good enough; for among the hail of bullets that had chipped fragments off the rock had been a few that had found their targets and lay where they had come to rest, in the body of the man lying stiff in the shadow.
He was a body still, and not a skeleton, because the witch had laid a spell to preserve here, to be picked clean by coyotes and vultures and lesser creatures; but the great bear ignored them and stepped up carefully toward the rock. The going was loose and he was heavy, and more than once the scree shifted under his feet and carried him down again in a scramble of dust and gravel. But as soon as he slid down, he began to move up once more, relentlessly, patiently, until he reached the rock itself, where the footing was firmer.The boulder was pitted and chipped with bullet marks. Everything the witch had told him was true. And in confirmation, a little Arctic flower, a purple saxifrage, blossomed improbably where the witch had planted it as a signal in a cranny of the rock.