Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 939(@200wpm)___ 751(@250wpm)___ 626(@300wpm)
After staring at my map for ten minutes to no avail, I’m forced to retrace my steps. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone in a circle before I stumble onto a terrifying sight.
My stomach bottoms out as I stop in my tracks.
About a hundred feet ahead of me is a bear.
A fucking brown bear.
I’ve never seen one before, so I’m rooted in terror where I stand. It’s fucking huge. Five or six hundred pounds, maybe? Its fur is grizzled and different shades of brown. Chuffing sounds come from the bear as it works.
An image of Thorin and the scars left behind from his encounter with Bruce flashes in my mind. I’m chilled to the fucking bone, and for a few life-threatening seconds, I can’t move.
The bear’s back is to me—dirt, grass, and roots flying up as its massive paws dig into the south face of a grassy slope.
It doesn’t know I’m here, but I’m upwind. My advantage won’t last long.
Slowly, I back away as quietly as possible. I don’t know what has the bear so distracted, and I don’t want to know.
Whatever the hell it’s after, it wants it bad.
After I put enough distance between us, I hold my breath as I turn to leave, but then a tiny sound makes me pause, and my stomach turns.
Yipping, squeals, and whimpers.
Desperate calls for a mother who’s somewhere devouring my damn dinner.
Oh, nature, you petty, heartless bitch.
The hole isn’t just any hole.
It’s the tawny wolf’s den, and those are her helpless pups inside. There’s a creek full of fresh water not ten feet away and plenty of cover from the elements.
If there was a pack, they’d be here defending her pups.
Instead, there’s only me.
I guess that makes me her pack.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
All I have is this damn bow. How many arrows will it take? What if I miss?
I’ll be mauled by a damn bear, that’s what.
If I can get around it, maybe I can get a headshot—or one to the heart if I time it right.
Stupid.
Fucking stupid, fucking idiot.
I continue to scold myself as I move around the bear.
It can’t fit inside the hole to get to the pups that must be huddled at the back of the den, but it’s only a matter of time.
It isn’t too late. Just leave. This isn’t your business. It’s nature. It’s the circle of life. You are Black, Aurelia!
None of it penetrates my stubborn will.
But…
Killing the bear for trying to survive doesn’t seem fair. How many nests have the mother wolf raided? How many young has it taken?
Ignoring that logic, I get downwind of the bear but forget to pay attention to where I step as Thorin taught me. A twig snaps underneath my heel, and the bear stops digging immediately.
Oh, shit.
It snorts as it backs out of the den and turns toward the sound. Once it sees me, it twists its head and roars.
I’m gonna die.
I force myself to hold my ground even when it takes a step forward and swipes a paw bigger than my head over the ground in warning.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re big and scary, and I’m lunch. Let’s get this over with.” Reaching over my shoulder for my pack, I don’t go for the arrows. I unclip the non-lethal bear spray Thorin packed for me. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt you, and I know you probably feel the same. I surprised you, and that was rude.” Fucking idiotic, more accurately. “You have every reason to maul my face off, but we can both still walk away.”
The bear roars again and charges but stops after two steps.
Okay, okay, okay. Ignore your sweaty palms and knocking knees and focus. What did the books say?
Bluffing.
The bear is bluffing.
That’s a good sign, right?
“You’re probably hungry and cranky from sleeping all winter, am I right?”
He whines like that is indeed its problem.
Remembering something else I learned in one of the survival manuals I read out of sheer boredom, I say, “I saw some juicy-looking berries not far away. Bears like berries, right? It’s not so bad being a vegetarian. I tried it for a couple of weeks. It was…an experience.”
The bear clacks its teeth, and I can’t remember what that means, but a moment later, it whines again before turning and running off.
For several seconds I can’t do anything but stand there and question if that just happened or if I made it up.
I can’t feel my legs.
I can’t feel my brain either.
Finally, it feels like I’ve been rebooted, and my next breath rushes out of me. I fall to my knees, feeling like my stomach is about to drop out of my ass. Instead, I lift my mask and throw up in the grass.
My hands are shaking uncontrollably when I swipe the back of my hand against my mouth.