Poor Bruin!

The Shaman and Walser did not live alone. There was a bear, a black one, not yet a year old, still almost a cub. This bear was part pet, part familiar; he was both a real, furry and beloved bear and, at the same time, a trascendental kind of meta-bear, a minor deity...

He would be offered bear steaks only after he was dead...

On its first birthday it would be taken to the god-hut and its throat would be slit in front of an ursine idol sitting above a heaping mound of skulls of bears who had met their fate in a similar fashion... 

The entire village crowded into the god-hut to watch the ceremony, lamenting vigorously and apologising profusely: "Poor bruin! We're so sorry, bruin! How we love you, poor little bruin! How bad we feel because we must do away with you!"

from Nights at the Circus by Angela Carter

I have finished reading Nights at the Circus; it's a fantastic book, very enjoyable and full of evocative imagery.  This is my first full-blown illustration spawned from the text, of a bear who is blissfully unaware of his intended fate.