“I think our best bet is to cut some saplings and form a drag litter.” You should be able to handle it, the path to the village is mostly level…so you won’t have too much trouble.” My Dad says this with twitchy eyes and sweat. I am not sure if he doesn’t want the bear involved to not, but I am pretty sure I can’t drag him the hour or so to the village.

“Yeah, Dad, that’s not going to work”

…and right on queue, in my mind I hear “I can carry him”. The sound of a rumbling mountain echo’ing on his last word.

“Dad, the bear can carry you.” My Dad’s face pales a little…which could be from his injuries or from the idea of being dragged/carried by the bear.

Before my Dad can speak again, the bear goes over…and with grace only a massive bear can have…flips my Dad on side, then bites his pants and swings him up on his back. My Dad, already in a lot of pain, screams bloody murder for a good 30 seconds after settling on the bears back.

“Sorry…your father is fragile. Where are we going? Do they have honey?”

I don’t know what to say. I swear 5 minutes ago I was running for my life, and now I am giving a bear directions to the local village. In a dumb-struck motion, I look from the bear to my Dad…who is sitting backwards on a bear…so he is not looking at me.

“Dad, which way?”

“Follow the ledge point to the other side of the field. There is a trail there that will lead straight to the village”. His statement is full gasps and painful grunts, which can only be from his wounds.

I am still not thinking clearly, but I need to keep moving forward. First thing to do is to get Dad to a healer. I slowly stand up and look at the bear.

“Did you get that?” I get a chuff in response, and the bear begins to amble…or roll…he is so big that his body swings from one side to the other in large arcs. My Dad, sensing the motion grabs handfuls of hair and just grimaces.

Realizing they are moving away, I take a couple quick steps and move up beside the bear. The bear just chuffs and keeps moving.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Son, stay up near the bear’s head. If anybody sees you, you don’t want them to think you are running from the bear, or running after the bear. See if you can put a hand on the bear’s shoulder…similar to when you guiding the cart donkeys.”

I turn my head to the bear, the bear turns his head to me…and chuffs. I guess that is ok with him.

After 30mins or so down the trail, we come up over a small incline right into the path of the village patrol.

We stop. They stop.

Per my Dad’s earlier statement, I put my hand on the shoulder of the bear and say, “Easy boy, it’s just the patrol.”

I suppose having a seven year-old kid standing next to, and patting a very, very, large bear, might cause some issues. The faces of the patrol are kind of a mix between fear, shock, and awe. The bear just looks at me again and chuffs.

I think that was the queue for the head of the patrol to start asking questions.

“Kid, are you ok? What’s up with the bear? Where’s your parents?” It was said quickly, almost like he was reading from a manual or something.

At the last question, my Dad pipes up, “His father is over here…on the bears back.” It is said weakly, and I quickly add, “We need to get to the village healer, my Dad is hurt.”

As if that was something the patrol could handle, the person at the back of the 5 man team, quickly steps and moves…slowly, while maintaining his distance from the bear…to the back of the bear.

“Kid, is it ok to approach the bear?”

“Yeah, you should be fine…he is my guardian. So long as you don’t hurt me or my father, you will live.” The bear gives me his chuff-chuckle at the last statement, but it seems to be enough for the patrol guy to step forward and do a quick examine.”

About 2 mins later, the patrol guy goes, “Tom, looks like internal injuries. Nothing I can do with the kit.”

While all this is going on, the patrol has still maintained its distance. After a few minutes, the head patrol…Tom, I guess…looks back to me and says, “Kid, you are about 40 minutes from the village. We can’t speed your travel…but I am not sure I can’t just let a massive bear head towards the village. I also can’t end this patrol. So, we are going to send Scott here back to the village ahead of you. He will run most of the way to prep the gate guards and get a healer there for you.”

Scott, who looks like a 16 year-old sampling tree, looks between me, the bear, and Tom. I am not positive but I think he peed himself. A small chuff from the bear at that thought makes me laugh a little.

After a whispered discussion, that I heard perfectly…imagine that…Tom told Scott to get moving. Scott, not wanting to be here to begin with, takes off.

“He is a wind Parity, so he should be at the village well before you arrive.” Tom states quickly as he notices my interest.

“You should get moving, your Dad is in a lot of pain.” This is obvious from the grunts and squeals from the patrol medic…I guess he is a medic…he could just be the guy with the kit.

With that said, the bear and I begin our rolling amble to the village.

As we pass by the patrol, one of the guys asks, “Hey kid, what’s your strength?”

Without hesitation, I quip back at him, “I don’t know, we were heading for Tuning this morning.”

A minute or so later, another member of the patrol goes running by, “Hey, kid we just thought Scott might need a hand, see you in the village.”

How bad is Scott? I get it, the bear is massive, but…he is my bear…so do they think Scott will forget something by the time he gets to the village or something? This day is just not going the way I thought.