When she was six-years-old, living here in the cabin her grandpa built, tucked away in a hollow twenty minutes outside of Boone, a female bear with two cubs circled the house before heading to Phipps's Creek, down the far property line in the back. She watched from the screened porch as they splashed in the pools below the rocky falls and thought they were the cutest things. That afternoon at school, she fell off the jungle gym during recess and broke her right arm in two places. The pink cast, speckled with glitter, stretched from her wrist to her shoulder. "Pink for a girl," the doctor said, though Maxine had asked for purple.