Walking the Ruins

Another fight, and what did I see there?

The bear has, apparently, not seen me yet. Silently I move back into the building and grab my bow, the arrows, and the spear. I place myself at a window. Only a few splinters of glass remain in its frame.

The bear is now much closer to the house. I get an arrow from the quiver, span the bow, and wait.

The animal takes its time, sniffing the track. Tentatively, it moves its snout along the snow, looking as if lost in its thoughts. Then it takes a few steps towards the building. It eyes its walls and studies the window where I stand. I don't move. There is a smell in the air, the smell of wet dog.

The animal comes closer to the house, sniffing, holding its snout high. It is now only a few steps away from my window. Then it looks straight at me.

I take aim and let the arrow fly.

I have aimed for its right eye, and I think the arrow hits at least close to it. The bear roars, in apparent astonishment and pain. It shakes its head, and the arrow falls off. For a moment, the animal stops all motion, looking startled, then moves its front paw over the blood-stained right side of its face.

I feel hot and cold at the same time. Something powerful rises within me, something that makes it impossible to stand still. I seize my spear and go to the door. Holding its shaft in both hands, I run towards the still dazed animal and thrust the tip of the spear into the bloodied part of its face. Only then I become aware that I am roaring, using a tone of voice that I have never heard before.

The bear also starts roaring. For a moment, we stand face to face, two primordial creatures roaring at each other. Then the bear turns and bounds away, vanishing between the trees.

I stare after it. Seconds or minutes pass before my brain starts working again. My body is shaking from head to toe

Away! I must get away from here before the bear returns.

Quickly I pack my things, seize the deer's hind legs and leave the building.

Everything seems lifeless, still. The bear is not in sight. The fog has risen, nearly reaching the house where I spent the night.

I turn towards the slope and start the descent towards the lake, adrenaline thrumming in my veins.

Soon I am surrounded by fog. My footsteps and my labored breath are the only sounds I hear.

I keep looking back, again and again, each time expecting to see the shape of an angry bear behind me. But I only see black trees, white snow, and gray fog.

I don't stop until I reach the outskirts of the city. There I sit down on the snow-covered ruin of a wall. My stomach is grumbling. I eat the paltry rest of my provisions.

Hours have passed since my encounter with the bear. I am a burned out shell. The adrenaline has run its course, and all energy has left me. But I force myself to get up. My arms are hurting, the body of the deer seems to grow heavier with each step I make.

My fingers are stiff and cold, locked to the animal's legs. I don't let go. I can't let go.

As I finally see our house at the lakeside, it is already turning dark. Stopping for a moment, I look at it. It is my home, it is my friends, and it is my life.

I push open the door and enter, not caring to brush the snow off my shoes and clothing. I walk right into the main room, dragging the deer along and leaving a white track of winter on the floor. I go straight to the fireplace. Only then I stop and look at my friends.

They sit around the table, openmouthed, staring at me. The only sound comes from the fire, crackling.

"Leona!" As usual, Rose is the first one to recover from my sudden appearance. She gets up and comes over to hug me.

"We've been looking for you all day." Steve gets up as well. "Where have you been?" There is reproach in the harsh words.

"I ..." I realize that speaking is difficult. My lips and cheeks are numb from the cold. "I've been shopping again." With difficulty, I loosen the grip of my hands, which are still clasping the deer. Then I step to the fire that's burning in the chimney

Later, much later, I lie in bed. I enjoy the warmth of my sleeping bag. I think back to today's morning.

A bear in winter? I thought they were supposed to be hibernating. But Kevin has explained that they sometimes wake up, or skip hibernation, when they are ill, or when a mother had a litter in summer. Well, I don't know.

Then my thoughts turn to the minutes before the attack. The sunrise over the mountains. The golden brilliance of the landscape touched by the first shafts of light. 

And then I remember. In that wide valley in the mountains, there was something rising into the sky. It looked like smoke.