Long hunts were dangerous hunts. There was something about teaming people up that dulled them down, convincing James he was better off alone. If he was going to die in the jaws of a bear, he'd rather it was through his own stupidity than because of someone else's carelessness. Still, his father would insist on hunting with him, and James enjoyed his company, learning from his forest-craft, but the old man wasn't as nimble as he once had been before the eagle took him. He couldn't venture as far or as wide, and so James would hunt on his own.
James would sneak off alone, terrifying his father, but always returning home after a few days. As far as he was concerned, he was invincible.
As he crossed the snow-bound ridge, James picked up the trail of the stag again. The deer was avoiding the heavy snow laid down by the drifts, following the leeward trails where the snow was thin. He'd seen the beast at a range of several hundred yards, too far for a shot, and had to get closer.
His father used a crossbow that was good at that range, but James preferred a long bow, relishing the tension of the string beneath his fingers, and the subtleties that allowed for greater control and accuracy with each shot.
The long bow took more discipline, required more consistency, but gave greater satisfaction. His arrows were good up to a range of a hundred and fifty yards, but lacked accuracy at that distance, and a wounded animal could bolt for miles, going on for days before succumbing to a clumsy wound. No, unlike the other boys in the nearby village, James wouldn't risk a lazy shot.
The thrill of the hunt lay in stalking prey, in outwitting them and positioning for the best shot, in making a clean kill. And, besides, the spill of blood would attract wolves. With a quick kill, he'd have time enough to field-dress the beast, carve off its hind flanks and leg muscles before the wolves began to circle.
The wolves, though, had learned to leave hunters alone. There was plenty of meat for everyone. No one needed it all, and the wolves understood an easy feed was better than a hard kill, one in which they'd lose at least some of their pack. It was a tacit agreement between species. An easy meal provided safe passage. But like an angry landlord, if the wolves arrived early, before the deer had been carved, they'd demand all they found. Time was of the essence, as wolves were intelligent.
Powdered snow kicked up beneath his snowshoes, spraying lightly in the air with each long shuffle as James worked his way around the peak.
He caught a glimpse of the stag below. It had at least twelve points. It was an old male. The meat would be tough but full of flavor. No one would believe him about the size of the horns, and if he hadn't been so stubborn as to hunt alone he could have had someone else carry them back to gain bragging rights, but it was the meat that was important, not his ego.
The stag stopped at the edge of a clearing below. A large tree had fallen and gouged out the snow on the steep slope, clearing away the hillside for several hundred yards and exposing loose shale. The stag could smell something on the breeze. The animal stood proud, its head erect, sniffing at the air, but it wasn't James it was smelling as he was downwind.
James pulled an arrow from his quiver. Its brilliant red flight feathers would provide him with a visual marker, allowing him to track its flight and understand any thermals or wind in the valley below. The stag was roughly a hundred yards down the slope. James would have preferred to get closer, but the stag skittered and danced, kicking up powdered snow as it trotted, looking around, smelling danger on the wind.
James would have to ensure his first arrow was on target. He'd get time for a second, but not a third.
The stag turned away from him, looking down the valley, giving James a clear line of sight at the heart and lungs. From this angle, he could strike in front of the rear leg, up under the stomach so the arrow could penetrate beneath the ribs and pass through into the animal's chest. The shot would be fatal, but the stag could run for the best part of a mile before dropping.
James steadied himself. Kneeling on a rock, he took aim, pulling back on the bowstring with three fingers. He kept his wrist straight, in line with his hand so as to keep the tension in his hand to a minimum and allow him to relax into the shot. His father didn't like the three-fingered hold, preferring a pinch-grab, telling him the three-fingered approach tended to pull to the right on release, but James found it easier to retain pressure while lining up his shot. He breathed deeply, exhaling and relaxing, releasing the bowstring at the bottom of his breath, while his lungs were empty and his body was naturally still.
The arrow shot out in a flash, sailing away, arcing through the air but the deer reacted, jolting with its feet and staggering to one side.
The deer had been spooked by something else, something on the far side of the clearing, further down the hill.
James watched as his arrow sailed to within half a foot of the startled animal as the deer broke to one side, moving for the cover of the trees. Had the deer remained still, James would have struck the massive animal just in front of its hindquarters, right on target. He already had a second arrow up and drawn, ready to fire, but the stag was gone. He could hear the beast bolting through the trees further down the gully.
James released the tension on his bow and looked carefully into the shaded forest beyond the clearing. There, on the far side of the gravel and ice, he could see the slow lumbering outline of a black bear moving through the tree line.
James pulled back on his bowstring and took aim. At this distance, an arrow would barely penetrate a bear's thick hide, if he hit it at all.
Although the bear's coat was thick, it would have lost most of its fat during hibernation and hopefully would be in no mood for a prolonged chase. At best, James would simply annoy it, but he was mad, this bear had spoiled his hunt and caused him to lose at least two months' worth of cured meats.
With the sun moving high in the sky, the day was lost. James aimed for the bear's ass, wanting to give it a good spanking. It was silly, and he knew it. To fire and expose himself was dumb. Although he was safe enough, he figured, as the loose rock would slow the bear's ascent after him, allowing him to flee, but why inflict a punitive wound? Why exact revenge for his anger? What would it accomplish? Nothing. And so he eased his pull, muttering under his breath before laughing quietly to himself at the absurd notion of even thinking about taking on a bear alone.
The bear sniffed at the breeze. It had picked up the scent of some other game further down the valley. The monstrous animal broke into a gallop, which startled James.
The bear bounded off over the hard-packed snow further down the mountain. James picked his way forward beneath the peak. He was foolish to follow a bear, and yet he was curious at what it was chasing. He moved lower down into the valley, away from the snowdrifts on the mountain top, to where the snow lay only ten to fifteen feet deep. In some places, where the trees were thick, sections of ground could be seen, covered in dead branches and pine needles. James avoided those spots, as they'd damage his snowshoes.
Coming down behind the bear was risky, but he was still downwind and the monster was distracted. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his mind calculated the risk.
James caught sight of the bear making its way slowly down a rough patch of exposed rock, winding around a low cliff face. It had spotted something in the gorge leading into the valley proper. James figured it had to be an easy kill, as the bear wasn't in too much of a rush, and he wondered if the wolves had brought something down and the bear was moving in to scavenge.
It was then he saw her, lying in the sun beneath a standing dead pine, lifeless branches littering the ground around her. The snow covered rocks were stained red with blood. She was clutching at her leg. Even though he couldn't make it out at this distance, James knew what had happened, she had stumbled into a bear trap. But who was she? Why was she out here alone? What was she doing so far from any of the villages of the plain?
He lost sight of the bear as it disappeared behind a rocky outcrop. The monstrous animal would be upon her within minutes.
She didn't stand a chance. But what could he do? He had a long bow, not a crossbow, even if he wanted to help, he couldn't. It would take most of the men in the village to bring down a bear this size, and even then, they could lose several men in the process—it just wasn't worth the risk for one life.
“HEY,” he yelled, seeing the bear emerge from behind the rocks, calling out to the animal before his mind had properly processed what he was doing or what he thought he could accomplish. It was stupid, foolhardy. Had his father been there, he would have scolded him.
“Over here,” he yelled, waving his hands as he ran out from the trees to the top of the low cliff.
The woman looked up, seeing both James and the bear. She fought to free herself from the bear trap, but with a bloodied leg she wouldn't get far before the monster caught her.
The bear looked around lazily before turning back to its prey. The lumbering beast padded over the snow down toward a small creek running with melting ice. On the other side of the creek, the woman strained to pry open the jaws of the bear trap. In the still air, James could hear her crying out in pain as she fought to open the teeth of the steel trap.
James dropped his pack on the rocks, pulled out six arrows and stuck the arrowheads into the soft snow. He knelt and fired the first, aiming for the armpit of the huge animal, praying his shot would have force enough to penetrate into the lungs, or perhaps to strike an artery.
The angle was wrong. The first arrow glanced harmlessly off the side of the bear.
James cycled rapidly through the rest of the arrows.
The second flew high and to the left, but it caught the bear on the side of the head, just behind its jaw, causing it to roar with pain.
The third was on target, sinking deep under the armpit.
By the time James fired the fourth, the bear had turned to face him. Rising up on its hind legs, the monster roared at him.
James was tempted to go for a heart shot, but the rib-cage and chest muscles were as thick as armor. A neck shot would cause massive bleeding, but this was a male bear, with a thick fur coat protecting its neck from fights with other, rival males.
In that split second, James settled on the groin. The arrow wouldn't kill the bear, but he was never going to be able to kill this bear and he knew it. He was buying her time. At least with a shot to the lower abdomen he was assured of a good hit. The fur was thinner there, and stomach wounds were notorious for infection. The bear might not die now, or in the next few days, but within a month it would be either sick or dead.
His fifth and six shots struck low on the bear's body and the beast roared with anger before falling back to its four paws and pounding up the snow covered hill toward him.
James stood, looking over at the woman. From where he was he could see she was a teenager, not much older than him. She was yelling something, but he couldn't make out what she was saying over the roar of the bear. Finally, her voice registered.
“RUN! RUUUUUUNNNN!”
The bear pounded up the mountain, but not directly toward him. It had to round the rocks before it could cross the top of the cliff to catch him. James dropped his bow and quiver, even though there were four more arrows he could have fired.
With its shorter front legs, the bear made easy time up the slope and had closed the gap to within fifty yards.
James ran.
His snowshoes were cumbersome uphill, demanding wide, long strides when he wanted to pound as hard and short as he could to make more ground. He darted through the trees, and up over a small rise. His heart was pounding in his chest. His lungs were burning as he sucked in the cool air around him.
Behind him, he could hear the bear tearing through the thicket, breaking branches and snapping deadwood beneath its weight.
The black bear roared and James felt as though the monster was already on top of him.
His snowshoes caught on loose rocks and branches, causing him to falter.
At the clearing, James rushed out onto the loose rocks and ice only to lose his footing and slide several feet down the side of the slope.
A deep bellow shook the woods. The bear lunged, seeing its quarry lying helpless.
James struggled with his snow shoes, pulling them from his boots. He looked up as the bear bounded through the trees, kicking up the powdered snow behind it.
James turned and scrambled on, using his hands and feet to clamber over the loose terrain as the bear came crashing through the trees and into the opening behind him. His right leg slipped, pushing a small avalanche of rocks and ice free and causing him to slide again.
James looked back over his shoulder. The bear was no more than fifteen feet away, tearing up the rocks between them. Blood ran from its torn cheek, dripping from its mouth. The monster's eyes seethed with anger, its teeth were bared, snarling. The bear lunged at him, landing on a loose patch of ice that gave way beneath the creature's weight, causing the massive beast to slide down the hill.
James slid helplessly down after the bear, falling with the wave of rocks and stone and ice knocked free by the animal.
He found himself crashing into the huge beast as it fought with its legs to steady itself during the slide.
The bear stank of piss and shit. Its breath was warm and fetid, its fur matted and coarse.
James pushed off the bear's hide, grabbing at the rocks sliding past and scrambling to free himself from the tangle of wild bear. He felt a rush of wind as the bear's paw lashed out at him, trying to grab his head, but that motion threw the bear off balance and it rolled further down the slope.
James darted to one side, scurrying upwards as the loose rocks and shale slipped beneath his feet. He made for the far tree line, hoping to find firmer footing there. For all its efforts to catch him, the bear slid further away.
James made it to the trees and paused, catching his breath. Looking back, he could see the bear had reached the base of the rock slide and gained its footing. It charged around the base of the rocks, intent on coming up the side to catch him. There was nothing James could do but to press on and hope he could out-distance the bear. He couldn't outrun a black bear. His only chance lay in the huge beast wearying itself with the chase. He hoped the monster would use up what little of its winter store of energy was left and lose interest in him.
The slope steepened. The large pines gave way to smaller trees, clinging to the side of the embankment, forcing James to climb hand over hand up the side of the mountain. The bear fought on behind him, roaring after him. With his muscles aching and his hands stinging from the cold, James pushed on, hoping the near vertical climb through a thicket of smaller trees would deter the bear, but it only seemed to enrage the animal more as it fought to stay with him.
James climbed up on the crest of the mountaintop, just below the peak, and looked out across the deceptively dwarf pines spread out before him, buried by the drifts that had fallen with the prevailing winds. Without his snowshoes, it was suicide to cross the deep snow, but the bear would not relent. The monster was barely ten feet behind him, tearing at the trees and rocks as it clambered up after him. On the flat table-top, the bear would easily outrun him, its wide paws spreading its load, allowing it to manage the deep drifts far better than James.
James could see the trail by which he'd stalked the deer. He ran over, wanting to link up with that track, knowing it was a safe path above the treacherous drift.
The snow gave way beneath him, and he found himself sinking into the soft powder up to his thighs. Twisting sideways, James launched his legs up, fighting not to sink more than waist-deep into the soft snow with each bound. Although he was running, the snow reduced his pace to a dawdle and James found himself peg-legging, vaulting up over the surface of the snow only to sink in with each step.
The bear mounted the summit behind him and roared with delight, seeing him barely thirty feet away. It charged, sinking no more than a foot or so with each bound. Within seconds it would be on him and he knew it.
Fear pumped adrenaline t
hrough his veins.
The only chance he stood was with the trees.
James changed his tactics, breaking to the right, over toward a clump of treetops barely rising above the deep snow.
The bear pounced, kicking up the fine, white powdered snow as it lunged at him. James was moving too slowly. With each driving step he sank further into the drift. He dove forward, lying prostrate on the snow, spreading his weight so as to not sink further.
James scrambled using his arms and legs, but even this saw him swamped in fine powder. He floundered forward, toward a low treetop as the bear came crashing down just inches from his leg.
They were too close to the tree.
Instead of fifty feet of packed snow built-up solid beneath them, there lay a thin sheet of snow over the burgeoning tree canopy.
Beneath the snow, the mat and tangle of the pine tree spread out, reaching wider as the fall went deeper, leaving the snow close to the treetop as little more than a fragile shell.
The crisp upper layer of snow caved in beneath their combined weight, sending them both plunging through the branches underneath the drift.
As they fell through the snow, the cone shape of the tree opened out below them, as it was comprised mainly of flimsy twigs and leaves. Both bear and man plunged into the darkness.
James reached out, grabbing at the branches and limbs as the bear plummeted past him, falling headlong beneath the tree, roaring as it fell to the ground with a sickening thud.
Chapter 02: Nightfall
Night had fallen by the time James made it back to the cliff face overlooking the girl in the snare. He was bruised, tired, torn and bloodied. His left hand had been impaled by a branch as he sought to break his fall through the snow down the inside of the pine tree. It had taken hours to work his way back to the surface of the drift. The bear had growled and groaned in the darkness beneath him as its life ebbed away.
Monsters Page 16