"These were human:
"GOLDILOCKS. Slim blond avatar of unreasoning womankind: who loved not the porridge itself, nor even the act of reiving it from whatever unknown animal might have been responsible for its preparation (and that was her third mistake: the first being forcible or at the very least unlawful entry into the house, the second being her disturbance of the food; for what might have seemed her third mistake -- falling asleep in the bed of the youngest of the household -- was actually not a mistake at all, being that no self-respecting bear would harm a sleeping prey, any more than he would have harmed young Ike McCaslin once he had relieved himself of the compass and the gun, and tracked Old Ben without malice or even curiosity through the as yet undespoiled square of ground which old Ikkemotubbe had, knowing it was not his to grant, nonetheless ceded to whatever Great White Father had chosen to accept it, knowing it was not his to take): even so, that was a different bear and another novel, and I can no longer remember the subject of my sentence. No, her mistake was loving her hair, loving only her hair, until she was named for it, and then at last subsumed by it. And so disappeared: whatever bed she occupied would be bereft of ursine companions; whatever bowl she ate from would contain no porridge..."