The chilled air nipped at my hands as the wind whistled soft, sad tunes in my ear. My father (who was a doctor) and I had gone camping near the Rock River. The green tent was built, the fire crackled. We gathered dark wild berries and caught fish that were like shimmering scaled rabbits. Of course, they didn’t have arms or legs. I was chopping thin tree branches with a pristine blade that split the wood like butter. Cocking my head toward the satisfying thud of the axe as it went through the wood, my backpack leaning me back. Rustling, shaking, a nearby bush, lush and green, erupted with leaves.
There stood a mass of dark brown fur, powerful muscles visible through its hide, claws like blades, teeth gleaming in the sunlight. The clearing, our campsite, which was surrounded by trees, wasn’t commonly known to exist. The unknown hid here, thought to be too foreboding for campers. We hadn’t known that. I screamed, my cries heard for miles, a sound of pure terror. My father appeared suddenly, his dirt-brown hiking boots sinking in the mud. The bear swung and its claws easily submerged into the soft, light flesh beneath the blue fabric. My father fell, blood soaked his clothes, soaked the ground, the sight of warm, red blood chilled my very soul. It approached. Squish, squash, swip, shwap. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, my feet moved on their own accord, but the sudden burst of energy couldn’t remove my feet from the liquid earth. The massive paw shot mud as it entered the ground. I laid defenseless, the wet snout snorted inches from me. It turned and bounded slowly past me, toward the underbrush.
I regained my footing and the axe was pried out from the log under my grip, and I charged. The wild beast got closer and closer, the glimmering blade sung a haunting tone as I plunged it into the bear, once, twice, three times. The gore sprayed onto the axe, and dripped onto my hands. The whine of the sharp metal through the air ended, replaced by muffled whines and groans. Pit-pat, pit-pat. The ball of fur appeared from the vegetation. A tiny paw reached out and rested on the bear’s nose. I felt an aching in my heart and I knew what I had to do. I had to try.
I set down the axe and slid off my backpack. I crawl to my father, the sack gouging the ground and I remove my hunting knife. I cut away the thin threads of the cloth. The rubbing alcohol sterilized his cuts as it ran over his wounds. I pierce his skin with a hair-like needle and thread from my first aid kit. The long, thin piece of metal slowly closed the injuries.
I shuffled back and repeated the process, desperate to save the hulking beast. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. I wouldn’t let it happen to anyone, anything. The bear staggered as it stood; it slowly went on its way with the cub in line. My hand inched to my bag and closed around a thin tube. The sky burst with vibrant colors of red, blue, and green. My bones and body aching, collapsed on the ground, I rested and waited for help.
There stood a mass of dark brown fur, powerful muscles visible through its hide, claws like blades, teeth gleaming in the sunlight. The clearing, our campsite, which was surrounded by trees, wasn’t commonly known to exist. The unknown hid here, thought to be too foreboding for campers. We hadn’t known that. I screamed, my cries heard for miles, a sound of pure terror. My father appeared suddenly, his dirt-brown hiking boots sinking in the mud. The bear swung and its claws easily submerged into the soft, light flesh beneath the blue fabric. My father fell, blood soaked his clothes, soaked the ground, the sight of warm, red blood chilled my very soul. It approached. Squish, squash, swip, shwap. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, my feet moved on their own accord, but the sudden burst of energy couldn’t remove my feet from the liquid earth. The massive paw shot mud as it entered the ground. I laid defenseless, the wet snout snorted inches from me. It turned and bounded slowly past me, toward the underbrush.
I regained my footing and the axe was pried out from the log under my grip, and I charged. The wild beast got closer and closer, the glimmering blade sung a haunting tone as I plunged it into the bear, once, twice, three times. The gore sprayed onto the axe, and dripped onto my hands. The whine of the sharp metal through the air ended, replaced by muffled whines and groans. Pit-pat, pit-pat. The ball of fur appeared from the vegetation. A tiny paw reached out and rested on the bear’s nose. I felt an aching in my heart and I knew what I had to do. I had to try.
I set down the axe and slid off my backpack. I crawl to my father, the sack gouging the ground and I remove my hunting knife. I cut away the thin threads of the cloth. The rubbing alcohol sterilized his cuts as it ran over his wounds. I pierce his skin with a hair-like needle and thread from my first aid kit. The long, thin piece of metal slowly closed the injuries.
I shuffled back and repeated the process, desperate to save the hulking beast. I knew what it was like to lose a parent. I wouldn’t let it happen to anyone, anything. The bear staggered as it stood; it slowly went on its way with the cub in line. My hand inched to my bag and closed around a thin tube. The sky burst with vibrant colors of red, blue, and green. My bones and body aching, collapsed on the ground, I rested and waited for help.