As we move down the ledge, and into the grass of the field, I can easily hear the deep growls and grunts of the light bear. The tree is moving back and forth impacting adjacent trees, all of which amplifies my fear. Cold sweat is rolling down my back on this cool morning.

Doing my best to move one shaking limb after another, I visually follow the crawl of my dad, away from the ledge. My pants legs have ridden up to my calves, causing the wild field grass to scratch my legs up pretty good. I can feel the stings with each motion.

We make it about halfway, and the grunts from the bear stop. As if a god has signaled silence to the entire forest, the whole forest goes quiet. I stop. My dad stops.

Straining my hearing, I listen to see if the bear is moving on, or towards us, I try to focus everything on that one sensation.

But there is nothing. No sound. I want to run, right now, run. Maybe the bear has gone, we should go. As if my dad can read my mind, he looks back and whispers, “Keep quiet and wait here.”

Ever so slowly, my dad raises up on his arms looking over the grass and ledge. He stills. Very quickly, he looks left then right, then pats my head.

“We need to go now. Get up and run the way we came in.”

Already jittery with adrenaline, I jump up and turn around…already pushing off my feet to sprint for 16 hours to get home…to get behind nice walls and a warm fire.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

As I turn, my father screams…not yells, not commands, but screams, “Noooo!”.

A large, partially glowing bear claw sweeps across my chest, throwing me halfway across the field.

I land with limbs failing out. My chest is wet and cold. I think I hit my head, because the world is brighter and sparkles. I am not thinking clearly. I can’t seem to connect one thought to the next. Why am I cold. There is no sound. I feel like I have a head cold, and my nose has clogged up all the way to my ears. After a 10 count, the world seems to re-focus and all sound comes back at the snap of a finger.

I look back to where I was thrown from and see my dad flinging metal darts at the bear. The bear doesn’t care. The darts are just dropping in the grass. The bear seems to be inspecting my dad. He rocks his head from side to side. As if he didn’t like what he saw, he moves. Well, moves is probably the wrong word. I blink and he has closed the gap between himself and my dad. His paw goes up and my dad goes flying.

Suddenly, I hear a grunt and a large object lands near me. I look over to see my father, unmoving.

I am not sure what to do. There is so much adrenaline in my system right now, that all I can do is shake uncontrollably. My head bounces between looking at my dad and back at the bear. I can’t voice my thoughts, I can’t seem to do anything.

The bear, however, drops back down to his front paws and begins a slow stroll over to his breakfast, or lunch…not sure I know what time it is, or care much…pretty sure I am the main course. I quickly look around, which is a really bad idea when you have a head wound.

As my head turns back to the bear, I am greeted with the stench of breath and strong musk of the bear. He is looking at me, straight in the eyes. He has stopped. His slow, powerful exhales wafting over my face.

He closes his mouth and slowly puts his forehead against mine. Eye to eye. The world goes white, then yellow, then red, then blue, then green, then grey, then orange, then black, and finally purple. Then the pain starts. Every muscle in my body locks with cramps, right down to my eyelids. I can’t scream, my lungs are frozen. I can’t move. I can’t really think.