Chapter 19: The Bear
With one hand I jerk my slingshot out of my pocket and with the other I search for a rock.
The ferocious grizzly bear is getting closer and closer to Peter!
Peter is frozen with fear.
My fingers jam the stone in the leather pocket pouch of my weapon and I pull back the elastic. Letting go, I have to wait what seems an eternity to see if I hit the terrorizing animal. The wild beast is moving so fast that I had to shoot in front of it—hoping the rock would land where it was supposed to.
I miss!
Peter’s face is ashen before he collapses.
He appears to be unconscious. Maybe it’s for the best with the circumstances being what they are.
I grab another rock. I can’t miss, I tell myself. This is my friend’s life.
This time the rock hits the bear squarely over its right eye. A heavy clunk sound resonates in the air and the fierce animal tumbles down a few feet away from Peter with a deep moan that abruptly shuts off when the bear’s heavy body crashes to the ground.
“Peter! Peter!” I cry out. But my friend is out like a light.
I have to get him away from the bear because the animal might wake up at any moment. Jumping out of the hiding place, I start rushing towards Peter. My heart beats rapidly in my throat.
“Peter, please wake up!” I call out to him as I try to make my legs go as fast as they can.
He wakes up.
But it’s not Peter I’m talking about. I stop moving as the animal’s dark furious eyes pierce through mine. The grizzly looks at me—straight at me!—and then it stands up on its hind legs and R-R-ROARS! The maddening sound chills my bones—turning my insides to ice.
Do something, I tell myself. The bear’s going to kill us!
I frantically look around me for a rock—nothing! No rocks anywhere near me. How is this happening?
The fierce grizzly bear falls back on its fours and pushes forward—its heavy body not slowing it down any. Glaring at me as it goes toward me, thoughts crash in my head. If I run, the wild animal will surely outrun me. I push the dirt around on the ground—there has to be a rock somewhere. The wild beast is planning on devouring me, but I refuse to go down without a fight.
I finally find a rock! It’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing. I send it flying, and it dives into the beast’s right eye. Howling in pain with blood coming out of the wound, the animal stops hastening towards me, but I know this is only temporary. I frantically start searching for another rock—hopefully a bigger one.
Piercing the air with agony and rage, once again the ferocious animal starts towards me at an accelerated speed.
It’s hungry.
It’s furious.
It’s on a vendetta.
Not finding anything bigger, I pelt the grizzly with tiny pebbles. I’m not going down without a fight! But the small rocks do absolutely nothing to it.
“Madrigal!” I hear my name from what seems very far away. Peter had just woken up and is gawking at the scene in front of him with complete terror.
The bear is so close that I can almost smell its ponderous breath. Don’t give up, I tell myself. My hands push harder through the dirt.
I find a medium-size rock!
Thrusting it into the leather pocket of my slingshot, I’m about to fire when a silver flash of metal coming from behind me at a tremendous velocity flies ahead. It abruptly pushes into the bear’s heart. The wild animal roars in pain before collapsing to the ground. Bright red blood gushes through the wound with the knife stuck into it.
The ferocious grizzly is dead.
I solemnly stare at it, feeling the adrenaline in me subside and in its place is a tremble I hadn’t allowed myself to feel.
“Madrigal, are you okay?” asks Royce, reaching me.
I hadn’t realized he could throw a knife with such expertise at such a far distance.
“Fine,” I mumble, preventing any tears from leaving my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he repeats, his dark eyes steadily on me.
“Fine.”
“Are. You. Okay?” His voice is firm but gentle.
That third time did it for me, and I grab a hold of him as if he’s my favorite stuffed animal. I succeed in preventing any tears, but my arms will not cooperate with me, and I keep squeezing him.
He squeezes back.
“Get away from her,” demands Peter, just reaching us.
Royce doesn’t let go, even when I’m smothering him.
“Get your hands off her!” Peter insists.
“I’ve got her,” states Royce, unmovable firmness in his voice.
Angrily, Peter stomps off to the bear and gives it a swift kick. “Ow,” he yells as he bends over in agonizing pain and rubs his foot.
I stifle a chuckle, and Royce bites his lip so he won’t laugh either. As the moment lightens up, I start feeling anxious with his proximity. Rarely has another human being been so near me. I promptly let go of him, suddenly feeling awkward.
“You’re okay now?” he asks, his dark eyes heavily on me.
“Yes,” I mutter. “Please let go of me.”
“Sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“You heard her,” states Peter, having limped over to us from the bear.
“Royce,” I utter from deep inside myself.
His dark eyes sit on me, curious as to what I’m going to say. “Yes?”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
His lips curve in a smile, and his unwavering sight stays on me. I find it impossible to look away. I don’t even blink.
“You’re welcome,” he expresses, our eyes locked.
“Hey!” Peter exclaims furiously. “Stop looking at her like that!”
The strange spell is broken, and I shift my eyes away.
Royce’s gentle eyes leave me and land furiously on his cousin. “What happened here?” he growls. “Didn’t I tell you to stay hidden?”
“I was suffocating under the fallen tree,” Peter snaps.
“Madrigal, judging by where you were, you stayed where I told you to until the bear got here, right?”
I nod solemnly.
Royce turns to Peter. “You didn’t,” he mutters quietly, but I can sense the volcano wanting to erupt inside. “You put all of us in danger—especially Madrigal.”
Peter’s defensive stance loosens as his eyes reach my face. “Gee, Madrigal, I . . . I . . .”
The situation is unbearably uncomfortable for me. “Its okay, Peter.”
“No, it’s not okay!” Royce snaps, unleashing the fury inside.
“I’m so sorry, Madrigal.”
“You’re sorry?” Royce scoffs. “She tries to rescue you—almost getting killed while doing it, and that’s all you can say?”
“What else can I say,” Peter explains quietly, shame in his voice. “I know that what I did is unforgivable.”
“Peter—”
“Don’t Madrigal,” Royce mutters. “Don’t give him absolution yet. Maybe he’ll learn something.”
I shift my eyes to the ground and start measuring my suffocating breaths. It’s the only way I know to let the thick tension dissipate from the crushing vibes in the air. I stay where I’m at as does Royce, who is still next to me, but Peter ambles over to a nearby tree and forlornly plops under it. No one feels like talking for a few minutes.
“What are we going to do next?” I ask Royce, breaking the silence.
“I didn’t find any signs of soldiers anywhere—I’m pretty sure they’re gone,” Royce murmurs, “but now we have another problem.”
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“We’ve got to be invisible and thanks to no one believing D412, we were until now.”
I’m completely puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“The bear.”
“The bear?”
He exhales deeply. “It’s too heav
y for us to try to move it. It must be close to 900 pounds. When the soldiers come back tomorrow, they’re going to know something is going on when they see the dead bear.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Peter interjects. “A hunter might’ve killed it.”
“The people around here are not allowed to hunt for sport. They hunt for food,” Royce explains. “There should be hardly anything left of the animal.”
“So when the soldiers get here tomorrow and see the bear intact,” I state, “they’ll be suspicious.”
“At the very least, they’ll be going after the person who hunted for sport.”
“We’ll be long gone by then,” Peter blurts.
“We need to be under the radar!” Royce snaps. “Authorities all over will be alerted of illegal hunting!”
“What if we carve the bear and take some meat with us?” Peter asks desperately.
Royce shakes his head. “There’s no way we can take that much meat with us.”
“What if we bury the pieces?” Peter offers.
“That’s probably our best choice. Let’s hope the soldiers aren’t training with dogs tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope so,” I murmur.
“We’ll be wasting time burying the animal instead of moving forward,” Royce comments with frustration. “This is an unnecessary setback.”
Peter fumbles to his feet. “I’m sorry—I—”
“Let’s start cutting up the bear,” interrupts Royce, “the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get away from here.”
“Okay,” Peter mumbles quietly.
“Let’s do it,” I say. “We—”
“Sh-sh,” Royce abruptly utters. His head tilts to the side as if he wants his right ear up in the air to listen. I do the same and catch what he must be listening to—many feet and muffled voices coming our way.
“Get back in the hiding place now,” he whispers strongly. The three of us dash to the fallen tree and dive under. I feverishly wonder if any of us left anything out that could be detrimental to us. I feel for my pocket and am deeply relieved that my slingshot is safely put away.
The knife—Royce’s knife is still in the beast, I realize.
“That bear has to be around here somewhere,” a voice clearly says, close to where we’re at but still not visible to us.
“I heard it too,” states another voice as he comes into view—a short, stocky man with a rifle.
“Bear meat would be mighty tasty tonight.”
A group of ten rag-tag hunters—both male and female step into view. Even though their clothes are worn and in tatters, all of them are armed with rifles, knives, and axes. Peter takes in a breath next to me.
“Any meat would be great!” another hunter says.
“We thought the guardians were so generous in letting us hunt and giving us these weapons but these woods are hunted out. They’ve already taken most of the food in it.”
“They’re just playing games with us,” retorts an elderly woman with wiry hair that sticks out all over her head.
“They just want us to watch the woods for them.”
“Jerks!”
“Lookee here!” a man excitedly exclaims. “I found the bear! And it’s already down!”
The hunters rush to where the man is—where Royce had killed the wild animal.
“Yep, he’s dead alright,” a hunter comments excitedly.
“What luck!” yells another hunter, and other voices of contentment fill the air.
I’ll call the rest,” the elderly woman says as she lifts a white, animal horn to her mouth and blows. A loud, baritone noise reverberates through the woods.
“This is the knife that killed him,” a hunter comments as she pulls the sharp instrument out.
“Something’s strange here,” murmurs the elderly lady. “Somebody got to the animal before we did, and then they left the meat.”
“Why would anybody do that?”
“I don’t know,” a huntress about my age with long, thick, caramel hair responds in a gruff murmur as she starts heavily eyeing the area and stealthily moving around. The others follow her.
“What is it, Pilar?” asks the elderly woman.
“Probably nothing,” the huntress answers, fully concentrated on her movements around the area.
“Nothing?”
She shrugs in an uncommitted way but keeps her concentrated expression as her eyes continue to dart in different directions.
“Who would kill a bear?” asks another hunter.
“Maybe the military did it.”
“I doubt if they would’ve used this type of a knife. Theirs are different.”
“Then who did it?”
The hunters’ voices seem right up against my ear. Their owners are very near us, and all I can do is wrap my fingers tightly around my slingshot. Next to me, I can feel the guys tense up.
“Why in the world would anybody leave food on the ground?”
“Yeah, what kind of moron would do that?”
“Why don’t you ask them?” states Pilar, in front of the fallen tree.
“Ask who?”
“Those hiding there,” she announces, pointing at our hiding place.
“What are you talking about?” asks another hunter.
Pilar’s eyes narrow in a smirk. “You can get out now. You’re busted!”