Post by moralhazard on Apr 7, 2019 21:27:20 GMT
Kara sat cross-legged on the pallet in her room in the Bird’s Nest, coin purse sitting in her lap. Too few coins left - and what was she paying for? A small, uncomfortable room, a bed too lousy with fleas to use, and the faint security of a lock - her own lock - and walls, which did almost nothing to keep out the noise of the city beyond. She ran her fingers through the coins, counting them again, although it didn’t change the total.
After a moment more of contemplation, Kara turned to her things, already packed, and rolled up her bedroll, securing it to the bottom of the pack. She shouldered it and made her way out of the inn, past the guard taking his mid-morning nap in the front room.
Kara was sick of Waterdeep. She was sick of the noise, the smell, the bleak human misery visible on all sides in the dock ward. She used her glaive as a walking stick, making her way north through the city, back to the gate where she had first entered it. As always, once Kara made a decision she felt better, and this one - leaving Waterdeep - felt right.Kara sat cross-legged on the pallet in her room in the Bird’s Nest, coin purse sitting in her lap. Too few coins left - and what was she paying for? A small, uncomfortable room, a bed too lousy with fleas to use, and the faint security of a lock - her own lock - and walls, which did almost nothing to keep out the noise of the city beyond. She ran her fingers through the coins, counting them again, although it didn’t change the total.
After a moment more of contemplation, Kara turned to her things, already packed, and rolled up her bedroll, securing it to the bottom of the pack. She shouldered it and made her way out of the inn, past the guard taking his mid-morning nap in the front room.
Kara was sick of Waterdeep. She was sick of the noise, the smell, the bleak human misery visible on all sides in the dock ward. She used her glaive as a walking stick, making her way north through the city, back to the gate where she had first entered it. As always, once Kara made a decision she felt better, and this one - leaving Waterdeep - felt right.
Kara wandered along the road north for an hour or so, passing several caravans heading the other way. She couldn’t face the thought of another city, not just then. Instead, once the hills began to rise to the east, she turned her way off the road and into the trees, passing the first few large clearings as too obvious. It was several hours before she found a spot that suited her - a clearing, half tucked behind a rocky hill, and not far from a running stream. She hid her pack amidst the boulders of the hill and, glaive still in hand, took just a little supplies on an errand to gather food.
In the city, she would need to pay for the luxury of berries. Here in the woods, it wasn’t more than a half hour before Kara found a patch of dandeberries, a type of yellow berry familiar from the Silverlands. She crouched next to the patch. The outermost layer had been stripped away by industrious animals, but there were other berries buried deep within layers of thorns. Kara’s small hands reached easily through the tangle, plucking berries to deposit in her bag with only a few scratches.
Perhaps it was the calm quiet of the clearing. There were no people shouting, just the whistle of wind through the trees and faint birdsong. In the city, Kara would have paid attention to every little noise. In the clearing, she missed the crack of a branch and the sound of soft breathing until it was too late.
There was a snuffling noise, and Kara looked up to find a little bear cub nosing happily at the brambles next to her.
Kara half leapt back, scrambling across the clearing and putting space between her and the little creature on instinct. It sniffed, looking down at Kara’s satchel, and made a little whuff of delight, shoving its nose into the bag and starting to eat.
Kara crouched on the grass, watching it. She didn’t know much about guessing bear’s ages, but it was small, with paws and a head too large for it, and a little clumsy too. It lifted its head from the bag, yellow dangle berry mush staining the brownish fur around its mouth, and accidentally tumbled over. With a happy squeak it rolled back and forth on the grass, clumsy paws batting at the air.
Kara lunged forward, snatched the bag and pulled back again, retreating slowly to where she’d left her glaive. Smoothly and carefully she reached for it, picking the weapon up.
The cub finished frolicking and sat up, wobbling back to where the bag had been. It left out a soft noise at its disappearance, then sat back on the ground and begin to let loose loud, distressed cries, pawing at the air and whining.
Kara kept her eyes fixed on it, glaive in one hand and bag in the other, taking slow, even steps backwards towards the edge of the clearing.
There was a soft growl from behind her, much deeper then the cub’s piping voice.
Slowly, slowly, Kara glanced back over her shoulder.
A much larger bear stood at the edge of the clearing, Kara positioned between her and the cub. Dimly, Kara could just make out a second cub, a near twin for the first, hiding in the woods behind what was clearly their mother. When Kara’s eyes met hers, the mother bear let out a loud snarl and lunged forward, swiping a paw at Kara.
Kara flung herself to the side, the claws just missing her. She dropped the bag of berries and gripped her glaive with both hands, her gaze fixed on the bear’s.
The bear kept its eyes focused on her, padding a few steps towards Kara. It snarled again, rising up and swiping at Kara once more. Kara ducked and dodged back again, gripping the glaive tightly. With a roar the bear flung herself at Kara, fearlessly aggressive.
Kara thrust the shaft of the glaive forward, keeping the wood between herself and be bear, using it to tangle her paws and keep her heavy weight away. She scrabbled backwards, trying desperately not to fall; if the bear got on top of her, it would be over. The bear was roaring and growling, swatting at her, and Kara smacked the wood off the glaive hard into one tender paw. With a yelp the bear pulled back, resting the paw on the ground. They stared at one another again, Kara and the bear.
Kara tightened her grip on the glaive. The bear was big, but it was spring, post-hibernation, and she’d had two cubs. Kara could guess that the layers of fat that might stop the glaive’s blade were thin. A few good strikes and she might have the thing - sooner if she went for the belly or throat. The bear was stronger than she was, but Kara had reach on her; at worst she would put up a good fight.
But Kara hesitated.
Her eyes flicked from the bear to the two cubs behind her, two little whimpering handfuls of fur. She was the one who had come into the bear’s clearing - the one who had gotten between the bear and her cubs. Kara clenched her teeth; she knew what she had to do.
The next time the bear lunged forward, Kara ducked and dodged left; one massive paw caught her on the shoulder, a heavy stinging blow that raked her open in three lines of flaring pain. Kara didn’t hesitate, scooping up the bag she’d discarded and running headlong into the woods.
She could hear the bear roaring behind her, the heavy thump of her paws, and for a moment Kara swore she could smell her breath, thick with the smell of decayed meat, as if at any moment strong jaws would close over her neck. She didn’t look back; looking back was folly in a chase like this one. Instead she just ran, zig-zagging through the trees, as fast as she could.
At some point Kara realized the bear was no longer chasing her - if she ever had been. She collapsed to a stop against the roots of a nearby tree, breathing hard. Her shoulder was bruised, her tunic torn, with three red deep slashes in her skin from the bear’s claws. It wasn’t bad as it could have been; the cuts were deep, but she could still use the arm.
Kara stayed in the roots of the tree until her breath had returned, heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, with a grunt, she pushed herself back to her feet and made her way back to her camp. There, she boiled water to wash the wounds in her shoulder, then wrapped them as best as she could one-handed.
For dinner she made a fire, shoving tubers she’d dug up into the base of it and letting them cook wrapped in damp leaves. She caught two fish in the stream, wielding a javelin like a spear, and cooked them as well, not bothering with filleting or any kind of preparation. Kara ate until her stomach ached, and thought it as good a meal as any she had had in Waterdeep. Next Kara cleaned up, dousing the fire with dirt instead of water so she could use the spot again the next day. She oiled and cleaned her glaive, buffing out the faint scratches left by the bear’s claws as best as she could. The clearing had a large tree on the edge of it, with a hollow half-beneath protruding roots, and space for a bedroll. Kara set up here there and slept, a peaceful dreamless sleep beneath the canopy of the trees and the night sky above.
The next morning, Kara rose early, cached her bedroll, ate the last of her berries, and took her glaive with her, looking for a larger clearing. She found one with the rising of the sun and, in the dewy grass, began to train. It was the first time since coming to Waterdeep that she had had enough space for full pattern dances; she had had to content herself with exercises that used the weight of her body until now.
Now, with the ease of years of practice, Kara dipped and spun. The glaive was like two blurs, a long dark brown one that was the handle and a small but bright silver one that was the blade. She started with the simplest of the dances, mock combat against a single opponent, and progressed through them, forcing herself through every dance she knew, against different imaginary combinations of enemies - this one with a sword, this one against two attackers, this one with an axe, this one against four attackers. Her body knew them as well as her mind, and the rhythm of her training was meditative, sweeping her away.
By the time Kara stopped, the sun was well overhead. Her shoulder ached, but when she touched it there was no heat, no sign of infection, and she didn’t feel feverish. She made her way back to the stream, bathing off the sweat of her practice in the cold water, and sat on the bank to drag a comb through the tangle of her hair, wetting it again as necessary until the long strands were free of knots. After that she braided it over her shoulder. She even used a razor to scrape the hair from her scalp where she kept it short, well able to do it by touch after years of practice.
In the afternoon she scouted, exploring the woods around her little clearing. She kept well clear of the berry patch. Today she noticed the signs of bears she had missed the day before - the scratched trees, paw prints, even the remains of a bee’s hive some distance away. There, Kara crouched and waited and watched a long time. When she was sure there were no inquisitive cubs about, Kara stole over to the hive. Almost all of it had been eaten up, but she found a few handfuls of honeycomb left over, little bits and pieces of it. Half she devoured on the spot.
One particularly large honeycomb she used for a poultice. She boiled water for her shoulder again, washing it, then smeared honey she’d squeezed from the honeycomb on the wounds on her shoulder before rebandaging them. The rest she tucked into a handkerchief and wrapped up tightly, to keep for later.
Kara ate rabbit that night, skinned and cooked over another fire, along with wild mushrooms and greens, and slept full to bursting again. If she couldn’t have been said to be precisely happy, she at least didn’t feel bad. Again she didn’t dream.
The next two days passed in much the same rhythm. Kara trained in the mornings, with her glaive and staff, with the strength of her body against itself and against the rocks and trees of the clearing. It was purifying, in a way, in the sheer physicality of it; it left her feeling strong, in a way she had missed after her injuries in Waterdeep. In the afternoon, she explored and gathered food. In the evening, she stuffed herself at dinner, and slept in a full and tired haze. She never stopped watching for the bears; once she thought she heard them in the distance and climbed a tree to get away, hiding amidst the branches until all sounds of their presence had gone.
By the end of the fourth day, Kara was starting to wonder if she should go back to Waterdeep. If some part of her was starting to feel lonely, she ignored it. Life was easy and comfortable in the woods. It was late enough in the spring that there weren’t many storms; the one afternoon shower that came Kara napped through, the hollow in the roots that she’d found shelter enough. There was plenty of food, at no cost to her in coin, and the ground was more comfortable than the floor at the Bird’s Nest had been - and far more comfortable than the bed. Her shoulder had healed; the wounds had scabbed over, free of infection. Kara thought they would likely scar, but one more scar - or three - would hardly make a difference for her.
Kara was wandering on the fifth day when things changed.
It started with the noise; there were no birds chirping, not anymore. That was the first thing she noticed, and it was enough of a surprise that she stopped and listened, with her whole attention.
There, in the distance - the ring of men’s voices. That was enough for Kara; she would have turned and gone the other way, headed back towards her campsite and the peace that she had found there. Except there was another sound accompanying the voices - the soft, familiar, high-pitched shrieking of a distressed bear cub.
Kara hesitated, gripping the shaft of her glaive as hard as she ever had, gritting her teeth together as well. Her shoulder throbbed in sympathy. If someone else came across the cub - and her mother - they might not show the same restraint she had. They might not be able to; that occurred to Kara as well.
She walked towards the noise, carefully but quickly. Then, just as distantly, Kara heard the low heavy growl of the mother bear. She began to run.
Kara slowed at the edge of the clearing, stopping her run the moment humans came into view. Four of them, men, armed with short swords and long metal wire loops with sharp thin handles attached. Four of them, and as she watched one slung what looked like a lasso of metal towards the mother bear. She roared, charging, and the loop slipped around her paw and pulled tight, sending her crashing sideways to the ground.
Behind the men, one howling cub trapped in a cage. A second empty cage sat next to it, door open.
Kara stood at the edge of the clearing, gripping her glaive. It was none of her business, she told herself. For all she knew, the bear had attacked someone and this was recompense. For all she knew –
Kara strode forward. “Hey,” she pitched her voice to carry, surprised at how easily the words came after days of silence. “What’s this?” She couldn’t help it if her tone was sharp and angry; she never could control it.
Two of the men glanced back at her.
“Bit of bear trapping!” One yelled, a nasty smile on his face at the sight of her. “She’ll fetch us a pretty penny, even if it’s just her skin. Not to mention the cubs.” There was something in the way he looked at her that made Kara’s skin crawl.
The bear was back on her feet; she snarled and charged again. The men scattered, out of the way, the one with her paw trapped pulling the wire tight.
“The head!” He yelled. “Get the head!”
Another man threw his metal loop; it missed. The bear turned and slammed a paw into the man holding her, knocking him back. He lost his grip on the metal, flying into a tree. The bear dropped back to all four and charged the other three men, bearing her teeth.
One lunged at her with a sword; it cut deep into her side, making her roar with pain.
“Careful!” One of the others shouted. “That pelt don’t won’t fetch as much damaged.”
Cold anger squeezed Kara’s heart. These men were no better than bullies: four of them with swords for a bear and her babies. Kara had locked eyes with the bear; she didn’t know if it was only her imagination, but in those eyes she felt she had seen a mother’s love for her cubs, and her fear for them - her desire to protect them.
“Let her go!” Kara called, taking a few steps forward. She gripped the glaive with both hands, bringing it to a ready position.
“Not how hunting works, sweetheart!” The man who’d smirked at her called back. He lunged forward as well, trying to loop his metal coil around the bear’s neck once more. This time the metal slipped into place. The men cheered, and he jerked at the contraption, making the loop sit tight against the bear’s neck.
The bear roared with fury and pain, charging them again; two of the men helped control the wire hold, using the pressure on her throat to keep her from getting to close.
Kara couldn’t take it. She closed the distance and swung up with the butt of the glaive, hitting their hands from beneath, hard enough that they dropped the metal loop, and dropping back while they were still surprised. She was focused and furious; doubt drained away and left behind it the cool, cleansing intensity of rage. Human or animal, no creature deserved this fate, let alone her cubs.
“Hey!” One of the men turned to Kara, sword raised.
The one who’d trapped her head lunged for his handle, the other two helping him flank the bear. The man who had hit the tree was one of them, a little dazed-looking but upright.
“What the hell, girl?” The man thrust his loop of metal into his belt. “It’s a bear, a beast.”
“And a mother,” Kara said, her voice low and firm, icy cold. “You leave her - and her cubs - alone.”
The man charged at her to swing. Kara held her ground, and slashed him with the glaive the moment he was close enough, cutting deep into his side. He stumbled forward and swung anyway; the blade missed, and Kara hit him again, this time slamming the staff into his head, hard enough to drop him to the ground. He went still; Kara didn’t think he was breathing.
The men had gotten hold of the metal surrounding the bear’s neck again. One held the bear off, using the metal to control it, as the other lunged in with the sword to bleed her again; thick sluggish blood was already matting her fur from the first wound. She lunged away and swatted at the blade. The man bore down, and what looked like a claw went flying. The bear bellowed with pain and rage, the wounded paw bleeding heavily. She dropped to the ground, trying to rest her weight on the paw and bellowing again.
“The hell!” The fourth man, the one who’d been dazed approached Kara, swinging his sword at her, trying to split his attention between her and the bear. This time her strike as he closed the distance missed, and he hit her, laying open a wound on her upper arm. Kara barely felt it; she just reacted, all of her energy focused on the fight, and thrust the blade through his chest. He choked and dropped, and Kara shoved her foot against him to yank the glaive free, slicing his throat with a smooth sharp cut.
Bright hot pain in her side flared to life; the third man had shifted from the bear to Kara. She hadn’t even seen him approach before his blade thrust deep into her side.
Kara gritted her teeth against the pain. Her hands tightened on the glaive; she turned, sweeping the blade across, and slammed butt of the glaive into the heavy muscle on his thigh. She swung through and around, following up with a full momentum slash at his chest.
He swung at her again and missed; Kara closed the distance and cut his belly open, his intestines spilling out onto the forest floor. He screamed, writhing with pain. Kara ignored him; it wouldn’t a quick death, but neither was he getting up again.
“You’re crazy,” the fourth hunter spat at Kara, his eyes wild. He still gripped the metal handle, frantically looking from Kara to the bear. “It’s a bear, you bitch! What the hell!”
“Let her go,” Kara advanced, slowly, pointing the glaive at him. The tip was dripping with dark blood, so red as to be nearly black.
The hunter gritted his teeth, looking from her to the bear, who was preparing another charge, still treating her injured paw gingerly. He dropped the handle of the metal loop and ran, but he wasn’t fast enough, not nearly; the bear swiped him with her paw, knocking him to the ground, and hit him again and again, battering him, until sharp teeth fastened on his neck and hit down. Kara couldn't tell if he was unconscious already by the time the bear's jaws closed over him; she didn't care either.
Then the bear turned to Kara. She bellowed her fury and charged, moving fast despite her injured paw. Kara lunged to the side, but she was too slow, and the bear's uninjured and heavy paw knocked her back and sideways off her feet. The last thing Kara felt was her head hitting something hard; the last thing she saw was a burst of white across her vision.
Kara woke to the sounds of two cubs whimpering at one another while the mother bear roared. Kara opened her eyes, slowly, and took a slow, deep breath, lying against the ground and taking stock. Her arm hurt where the sword had hit it; her side hurt much worse, and she could feel her clothing was matted with blood, half-dry by now. There was a bruise-like ache on the other side of her ribs where the bear had pawed her. Her head throbbed, horribly. But - no other damage. No bite marks, no new slashes, and she had woken up.
The glaive lay next to her, its blade black with blood. The four hunters lay dead on the forest floor, all now marked by the bear’s angry claws and teeth. Bloody paw prints left tracks all over the grassy clearing. The mother bear was hunched over next to the cage, one cub stuck inside it and the other nearby. The mother bear batted at the cage where her little one was trapped, claws glinting against the metal. She seemed to have loosened or clawed apart the wires that had trapped her neck and paw; neither were still on her, and Kara saw one twisted and mangled on the ground by the poachers.
Kara rose, slowly, gripping the weapon and stumbling to her feet. She swallowed, hard, and stepped forward.
The bear snarled at her - but didn’t attack. Kara took a deep breath and another step, slowly. The bear backed up, keeping her body between Kara and the second cub, watching warily as Kara approached the cage.
Kara lifted the glaive and slammed the heavy butt into the lock. The cub inside squealed. The lock didn’t give. Kara lifted the glaive again with both hands, and brought her whole body into the strike, hitting the lock again and again, until it cracked open. With shaking hands Kara pulled it free of the cage and threw it aside.
The bear roared and shoved past Kara, scooping the errant cub out with her uninjured paw. Just that force was enough to knock Kara to the ground; she landed hard on her butt, with a thump that jarred the open cuts on her side and arm and the bruise on her ribs.
Kara’s whole body was shaking and tense now as she looked at the bear. Her paw seemed to mostly have stopped bleeding, but that it was tender was obvious. The wound where her claw had been could kill the bear, if it got infected. The one in her side might too, but her paw - against the ground all the time - what was the pointing of saving her if only to leave her to die? Kara reached into her pocket, emerging with the sticky handkerchief full of honey she had brought for a snack. It had been crushed against the ground when she fell, and was sticky with honey that had been squeezed from the combs. This time Kara set the glaive down, leaving it behind, both hands gripping the handkerchief.
The bear snarled as Kara approached, scooping the newly-freed cub behind her to join the other one. The bear reared, but didn’t swing, gaze fixed on the small human. Kara approached with hands out and open, the handkerchief clutched between them, held slightly open. The bear sniffed at the air, and made a noise of half-pain, half-confusion, snout shifting as her gaze fixed on the honey-coated fabric.
Kara reached for the injured paw, slowly, extending the hardkerchief towards it. The bear roared and pulled it away, swatting at her without intent; the strike missed by more than a foot, clearly just a warning.
Kara hesitated, then dropped a bigger piece of honeycomb onto the ground. The bear lowered her head to it, beginning to eat. Kara picked the other chunks off, leaving just the bits of honey behind. She had to try. With the decision made, her shaking stopped. Kara wiped her hand against the ground, leaving the bits of honeycomb behind.
The cubs and the bear lapped at the honeycomb, the bear still crunching noisily at the first big piece. Kara seized her moment, lunging forward and wrapping the handkerchief around the bear’s paw, pressing the stickiest part squarely over the gaping wound where the claw had been.
The bear snorted and huffed, making a low whining sound, but didn’t swipe at Kara, busy still crunching at the honeycomb. The moment Kara released the handkerchief the bear pulled her paw back, but she didn’t even both to look at Kara this time.
Kara didn’t press her luck, half crawling back, clearing a few feet before she rose, backing up still, swooping up the glaive as she went. She crouched at the edge of the clearing for a few moments, too dizzy to move anymore, and watched the bear and her cubs finish the honeycomb. The bear gathered the two cubs up with grunts and snorts, and ambled away, using her injured paw gingerly but able to walk on it. At the edge of the clearing she stopped and looked back at Kara, letting out a soft whuff noise. The shier of the two cubs clung close to her hind leg; the bolder one, newly released from the cage, scampered back and forth, uncowed by the experience.
Kara realized she was shaking again only after the bear had gone. She rubbed her face with her hand, glancing around. The hunters she would leave. They deserved a burial, Kara knew it, but she didn’t have the strength. She got up to go and stopped. Lying on the ground nearby was the severed claw, still attached to bits of gory fur. Kara slowly knelt and then picked it up. A keepsake, she decided. Something to remind her of the bear’s courage, her utter determination to protect her little ones.
Kara started back towards her camp, walking slowly, glaive in hand. It was late today; she needed to bandage her wounds, to rest her head. Tomorrow, she decided, she would head back to Waterdeep. Her place was there - those she needed to protect were there. She had sulked in the woods long enough. The bear’s fierce heart would be her guide, Kara promised herself. She would hide no more.
((Word count: 4760))
After a moment more of contemplation, Kara turned to her things, already packed, and rolled up her bedroll, securing it to the bottom of the pack. She shouldered it and made her way out of the inn, past the guard taking his mid-morning nap in the front room.
Kara was sick of Waterdeep. She was sick of the noise, the smell, the bleak human misery visible on all sides in the dock ward. She used her glaive as a walking stick, making her way north through the city, back to the gate where she had first entered it. As always, once Kara made a decision she felt better, and this one - leaving Waterdeep - felt right.Kara sat cross-legged on the pallet in her room in the Bird’s Nest, coin purse sitting in her lap. Too few coins left - and what was she paying for? A small, uncomfortable room, a bed too lousy with fleas to use, and the faint security of a lock - her own lock - and walls, which did almost nothing to keep out the noise of the city beyond. She ran her fingers through the coins, counting them again, although it didn’t change the total.
After a moment more of contemplation, Kara turned to her things, already packed, and rolled up her bedroll, securing it to the bottom of the pack. She shouldered it and made her way out of the inn, past the guard taking his mid-morning nap in the front room.
Kara was sick of Waterdeep. She was sick of the noise, the smell, the bleak human misery visible on all sides in the dock ward. She used her glaive as a walking stick, making her way north through the city, back to the gate where she had first entered it. As always, once Kara made a decision she felt better, and this one - leaving Waterdeep - felt right.
Kara wandered along the road north for an hour or so, passing several caravans heading the other way. She couldn’t face the thought of another city, not just then. Instead, once the hills began to rise to the east, she turned her way off the road and into the trees, passing the first few large clearings as too obvious. It was several hours before she found a spot that suited her - a clearing, half tucked behind a rocky hill, and not far from a running stream. She hid her pack amidst the boulders of the hill and, glaive still in hand, took just a little supplies on an errand to gather food.
In the city, she would need to pay for the luxury of berries. Here in the woods, it wasn’t more than a half hour before Kara found a patch of dandeberries, a type of yellow berry familiar from the Silverlands. She crouched next to the patch. The outermost layer had been stripped away by industrious animals, but there were other berries buried deep within layers of thorns. Kara’s small hands reached easily through the tangle, plucking berries to deposit in her bag with only a few scratches.
Perhaps it was the calm quiet of the clearing. There were no people shouting, just the whistle of wind through the trees and faint birdsong. In the city, Kara would have paid attention to every little noise. In the clearing, she missed the crack of a branch and the sound of soft breathing until it was too late.
There was a snuffling noise, and Kara looked up to find a little bear cub nosing happily at the brambles next to her.
Kara half leapt back, scrambling across the clearing and putting space between her and the little creature on instinct. It sniffed, looking down at Kara’s satchel, and made a little whuff of delight, shoving its nose into the bag and starting to eat.
Kara crouched on the grass, watching it. She didn’t know much about guessing bear’s ages, but it was small, with paws and a head too large for it, and a little clumsy too. It lifted its head from the bag, yellow dangle berry mush staining the brownish fur around its mouth, and accidentally tumbled over. With a happy squeak it rolled back and forth on the grass, clumsy paws batting at the air.
Kara lunged forward, snatched the bag and pulled back again, retreating slowly to where she’d left her glaive. Smoothly and carefully she reached for it, picking the weapon up.
The cub finished frolicking and sat up, wobbling back to where the bag had been. It left out a soft noise at its disappearance, then sat back on the ground and begin to let loose loud, distressed cries, pawing at the air and whining.
Kara kept her eyes fixed on it, glaive in one hand and bag in the other, taking slow, even steps backwards towards the edge of the clearing.
There was a soft growl from behind her, much deeper then the cub’s piping voice.
Slowly, slowly, Kara glanced back over her shoulder.
A much larger bear stood at the edge of the clearing, Kara positioned between her and the cub. Dimly, Kara could just make out a second cub, a near twin for the first, hiding in the woods behind what was clearly their mother. When Kara’s eyes met hers, the mother bear let out a loud snarl and lunged forward, swiping a paw at Kara.
Kara flung herself to the side, the claws just missing her. She dropped the bag of berries and gripped her glaive with both hands, her gaze fixed on the bear’s.
The bear kept its eyes focused on her, padding a few steps towards Kara. It snarled again, rising up and swiping at Kara once more. Kara ducked and dodged back again, gripping the glaive tightly. With a roar the bear flung herself at Kara, fearlessly aggressive.
Kara thrust the shaft of the glaive forward, keeping the wood between herself and be bear, using it to tangle her paws and keep her heavy weight away. She scrabbled backwards, trying desperately not to fall; if the bear got on top of her, it would be over. The bear was roaring and growling, swatting at her, and Kara smacked the wood off the glaive hard into one tender paw. With a yelp the bear pulled back, resting the paw on the ground. They stared at one another again, Kara and the bear.
Kara tightened her grip on the glaive. The bear was big, but it was spring, post-hibernation, and she’d had two cubs. Kara could guess that the layers of fat that might stop the glaive’s blade were thin. A few good strikes and she might have the thing - sooner if she went for the belly or throat. The bear was stronger than she was, but Kara had reach on her; at worst she would put up a good fight.
But Kara hesitated.
Her eyes flicked from the bear to the two cubs behind her, two little whimpering handfuls of fur. She was the one who had come into the bear’s clearing - the one who had gotten between the bear and her cubs. Kara clenched her teeth; she knew what she had to do.
The next time the bear lunged forward, Kara ducked and dodged left; one massive paw caught her on the shoulder, a heavy stinging blow that raked her open in three lines of flaring pain. Kara didn’t hesitate, scooping up the bag she’d discarded and running headlong into the woods.
She could hear the bear roaring behind her, the heavy thump of her paws, and for a moment Kara swore she could smell her breath, thick with the smell of decayed meat, as if at any moment strong jaws would close over her neck. She didn’t look back; looking back was folly in a chase like this one. Instead she just ran, zig-zagging through the trees, as fast as she could.
At some point Kara realized the bear was no longer chasing her - if she ever had been. She collapsed to a stop against the roots of a nearby tree, breathing hard. Her shoulder was bruised, her tunic torn, with three red deep slashes in her skin from the bear’s claws. It wasn’t bad as it could have been; the cuts were deep, but she could still use the arm.
Kara stayed in the roots of the tree until her breath had returned, heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, with a grunt, she pushed herself back to her feet and made her way back to her camp. There, she boiled water to wash the wounds in her shoulder, then wrapped them as best as she could one-handed.
For dinner she made a fire, shoving tubers she’d dug up into the base of it and letting them cook wrapped in damp leaves. She caught two fish in the stream, wielding a javelin like a spear, and cooked them as well, not bothering with filleting or any kind of preparation. Kara ate until her stomach ached, and thought it as good a meal as any she had had in Waterdeep. Next Kara cleaned up, dousing the fire with dirt instead of water so she could use the spot again the next day. She oiled and cleaned her glaive, buffing out the faint scratches left by the bear’s claws as best as she could. The clearing had a large tree on the edge of it, with a hollow half-beneath protruding roots, and space for a bedroll. Kara set up here there and slept, a peaceful dreamless sleep beneath the canopy of the trees and the night sky above.
The next morning, Kara rose early, cached her bedroll, ate the last of her berries, and took her glaive with her, looking for a larger clearing. She found one with the rising of the sun and, in the dewy grass, began to train. It was the first time since coming to Waterdeep that she had had enough space for full pattern dances; she had had to content herself with exercises that used the weight of her body until now.
Now, with the ease of years of practice, Kara dipped and spun. The glaive was like two blurs, a long dark brown one that was the handle and a small but bright silver one that was the blade. She started with the simplest of the dances, mock combat against a single opponent, and progressed through them, forcing herself through every dance she knew, against different imaginary combinations of enemies - this one with a sword, this one against two attackers, this one with an axe, this one against four attackers. Her body knew them as well as her mind, and the rhythm of her training was meditative, sweeping her away.
By the time Kara stopped, the sun was well overhead. Her shoulder ached, but when she touched it there was no heat, no sign of infection, and she didn’t feel feverish. She made her way back to the stream, bathing off the sweat of her practice in the cold water, and sat on the bank to drag a comb through the tangle of her hair, wetting it again as necessary until the long strands were free of knots. After that she braided it over her shoulder. She even used a razor to scrape the hair from her scalp where she kept it short, well able to do it by touch after years of practice.
In the afternoon she scouted, exploring the woods around her little clearing. She kept well clear of the berry patch. Today she noticed the signs of bears she had missed the day before - the scratched trees, paw prints, even the remains of a bee’s hive some distance away. There, Kara crouched and waited and watched a long time. When she was sure there were no inquisitive cubs about, Kara stole over to the hive. Almost all of it had been eaten up, but she found a few handfuls of honeycomb left over, little bits and pieces of it. Half she devoured on the spot.
One particularly large honeycomb she used for a poultice. She boiled water for her shoulder again, washing it, then smeared honey she’d squeezed from the honeycomb on the wounds on her shoulder before rebandaging them. The rest she tucked into a handkerchief and wrapped up tightly, to keep for later.
Kara ate rabbit that night, skinned and cooked over another fire, along with wild mushrooms and greens, and slept full to bursting again. If she couldn’t have been said to be precisely happy, she at least didn’t feel bad. Again she didn’t dream.
The next two days passed in much the same rhythm. Kara trained in the mornings, with her glaive and staff, with the strength of her body against itself and against the rocks and trees of the clearing. It was purifying, in a way, in the sheer physicality of it; it left her feeling strong, in a way she had missed after her injuries in Waterdeep. In the afternoon, she explored and gathered food. In the evening, she stuffed herself at dinner, and slept in a full and tired haze. She never stopped watching for the bears; once she thought she heard them in the distance and climbed a tree to get away, hiding amidst the branches until all sounds of their presence had gone.
By the end of the fourth day, Kara was starting to wonder if she should go back to Waterdeep. If some part of her was starting to feel lonely, she ignored it. Life was easy and comfortable in the woods. It was late enough in the spring that there weren’t many storms; the one afternoon shower that came Kara napped through, the hollow in the roots that she’d found shelter enough. There was plenty of food, at no cost to her in coin, and the ground was more comfortable than the floor at the Bird’s Nest had been - and far more comfortable than the bed. Her shoulder had healed; the wounds had scabbed over, free of infection. Kara thought they would likely scar, but one more scar - or three - would hardly make a difference for her.
Kara was wandering on the fifth day when things changed.
It started with the noise; there were no birds chirping, not anymore. That was the first thing she noticed, and it was enough of a surprise that she stopped and listened, with her whole attention.
There, in the distance - the ring of men’s voices. That was enough for Kara; she would have turned and gone the other way, headed back towards her campsite and the peace that she had found there. Except there was another sound accompanying the voices - the soft, familiar, high-pitched shrieking of a distressed bear cub.
Kara hesitated, gripping the shaft of her glaive as hard as she ever had, gritting her teeth together as well. Her shoulder throbbed in sympathy. If someone else came across the cub - and her mother - they might not show the same restraint she had. They might not be able to; that occurred to Kara as well.
She walked towards the noise, carefully but quickly. Then, just as distantly, Kara heard the low heavy growl of the mother bear. She began to run.
Kara slowed at the edge of the clearing, stopping her run the moment humans came into view. Four of them, men, armed with short swords and long metal wire loops with sharp thin handles attached. Four of them, and as she watched one slung what looked like a lasso of metal towards the mother bear. She roared, charging, and the loop slipped around her paw and pulled tight, sending her crashing sideways to the ground.
Behind the men, one howling cub trapped in a cage. A second empty cage sat next to it, door open.
Kara stood at the edge of the clearing, gripping her glaive. It was none of her business, she told herself. For all she knew, the bear had attacked someone and this was recompense. For all she knew –
Kara strode forward. “Hey,” she pitched her voice to carry, surprised at how easily the words came after days of silence. “What’s this?” She couldn’t help it if her tone was sharp and angry; she never could control it.
Two of the men glanced back at her.
“Bit of bear trapping!” One yelled, a nasty smile on his face at the sight of her. “She’ll fetch us a pretty penny, even if it’s just her skin. Not to mention the cubs.” There was something in the way he looked at her that made Kara’s skin crawl.
The bear was back on her feet; she snarled and charged again. The men scattered, out of the way, the one with her paw trapped pulling the wire tight.
“The head!” He yelled. “Get the head!”
Another man threw his metal loop; it missed. The bear turned and slammed a paw into the man holding her, knocking him back. He lost his grip on the metal, flying into a tree. The bear dropped back to all four and charged the other three men, bearing her teeth.
One lunged at her with a sword; it cut deep into her side, making her roar with pain.
“Careful!” One of the others shouted. “That pelt don’t won’t fetch as much damaged.”
Cold anger squeezed Kara’s heart. These men were no better than bullies: four of them with swords for a bear and her babies. Kara had locked eyes with the bear; she didn’t know if it was only her imagination, but in those eyes she felt she had seen a mother’s love for her cubs, and her fear for them - her desire to protect them.
“Let her go!” Kara called, taking a few steps forward. She gripped the glaive with both hands, bringing it to a ready position.
“Not how hunting works, sweetheart!” The man who’d smirked at her called back. He lunged forward as well, trying to loop his metal coil around the bear’s neck once more. This time the metal slipped into place. The men cheered, and he jerked at the contraption, making the loop sit tight against the bear’s neck.
The bear roared with fury and pain, charging them again; two of the men helped control the wire hold, using the pressure on her throat to keep her from getting to close.
Kara couldn’t take it. She closed the distance and swung up with the butt of the glaive, hitting their hands from beneath, hard enough that they dropped the metal loop, and dropping back while they were still surprised. She was focused and furious; doubt drained away and left behind it the cool, cleansing intensity of rage. Human or animal, no creature deserved this fate, let alone her cubs.
“Hey!” One of the men turned to Kara, sword raised.
The one who’d trapped her head lunged for his handle, the other two helping him flank the bear. The man who had hit the tree was one of them, a little dazed-looking but upright.
“What the hell, girl?” The man thrust his loop of metal into his belt. “It’s a bear, a beast.”
“And a mother,” Kara said, her voice low and firm, icy cold. “You leave her - and her cubs - alone.”
The man charged at her to swing. Kara held her ground, and slashed him with the glaive the moment he was close enough, cutting deep into his side. He stumbled forward and swung anyway; the blade missed, and Kara hit him again, this time slamming the staff into his head, hard enough to drop him to the ground. He went still; Kara didn’t think he was breathing.
The men had gotten hold of the metal surrounding the bear’s neck again. One held the bear off, using the metal to control it, as the other lunged in with the sword to bleed her again; thick sluggish blood was already matting her fur from the first wound. She lunged away and swatted at the blade. The man bore down, and what looked like a claw went flying. The bear bellowed with pain and rage, the wounded paw bleeding heavily. She dropped to the ground, trying to rest her weight on the paw and bellowing again.
“The hell!” The fourth man, the one who’d been dazed approached Kara, swinging his sword at her, trying to split his attention between her and the bear. This time her strike as he closed the distance missed, and he hit her, laying open a wound on her upper arm. Kara barely felt it; she just reacted, all of her energy focused on the fight, and thrust the blade through his chest. He choked and dropped, and Kara shoved her foot against him to yank the glaive free, slicing his throat with a smooth sharp cut.
Bright hot pain in her side flared to life; the third man had shifted from the bear to Kara. She hadn’t even seen him approach before his blade thrust deep into her side.
Kara gritted her teeth against the pain. Her hands tightened on the glaive; she turned, sweeping the blade across, and slammed butt of the glaive into the heavy muscle on his thigh. She swung through and around, following up with a full momentum slash at his chest.
He swung at her again and missed; Kara closed the distance and cut his belly open, his intestines spilling out onto the forest floor. He screamed, writhing with pain. Kara ignored him; it wouldn’t a quick death, but neither was he getting up again.
“You’re crazy,” the fourth hunter spat at Kara, his eyes wild. He still gripped the metal handle, frantically looking from Kara to the bear. “It’s a bear, you bitch! What the hell!”
“Let her go,” Kara advanced, slowly, pointing the glaive at him. The tip was dripping with dark blood, so red as to be nearly black.
The hunter gritted his teeth, looking from her to the bear, who was preparing another charge, still treating her injured paw gingerly. He dropped the handle of the metal loop and ran, but he wasn’t fast enough, not nearly; the bear swiped him with her paw, knocking him to the ground, and hit him again and again, battering him, until sharp teeth fastened on his neck and hit down. Kara couldn't tell if he was unconscious already by the time the bear's jaws closed over him; she didn't care either.
Then the bear turned to Kara. She bellowed her fury and charged, moving fast despite her injured paw. Kara lunged to the side, but she was too slow, and the bear's uninjured and heavy paw knocked her back and sideways off her feet. The last thing Kara felt was her head hitting something hard; the last thing she saw was a burst of white across her vision.
Kara woke to the sounds of two cubs whimpering at one another while the mother bear roared. Kara opened her eyes, slowly, and took a slow, deep breath, lying against the ground and taking stock. Her arm hurt where the sword had hit it; her side hurt much worse, and she could feel her clothing was matted with blood, half-dry by now. There was a bruise-like ache on the other side of her ribs where the bear had pawed her. Her head throbbed, horribly. But - no other damage. No bite marks, no new slashes, and she had woken up.
The glaive lay next to her, its blade black with blood. The four hunters lay dead on the forest floor, all now marked by the bear’s angry claws and teeth. Bloody paw prints left tracks all over the grassy clearing. The mother bear was hunched over next to the cage, one cub stuck inside it and the other nearby. The mother bear batted at the cage where her little one was trapped, claws glinting against the metal. She seemed to have loosened or clawed apart the wires that had trapped her neck and paw; neither were still on her, and Kara saw one twisted and mangled on the ground by the poachers.
Kara rose, slowly, gripping the weapon and stumbling to her feet. She swallowed, hard, and stepped forward.
The bear snarled at her - but didn’t attack. Kara took a deep breath and another step, slowly. The bear backed up, keeping her body between Kara and the second cub, watching warily as Kara approached the cage.
Kara lifted the glaive and slammed the heavy butt into the lock. The cub inside squealed. The lock didn’t give. Kara lifted the glaive again with both hands, and brought her whole body into the strike, hitting the lock again and again, until it cracked open. With shaking hands Kara pulled it free of the cage and threw it aside.
The bear roared and shoved past Kara, scooping the errant cub out with her uninjured paw. Just that force was enough to knock Kara to the ground; she landed hard on her butt, with a thump that jarred the open cuts on her side and arm and the bruise on her ribs.
Kara’s whole body was shaking and tense now as she looked at the bear. Her paw seemed to mostly have stopped bleeding, but that it was tender was obvious. The wound where her claw had been could kill the bear, if it got infected. The one in her side might too, but her paw - against the ground all the time - what was the pointing of saving her if only to leave her to die? Kara reached into her pocket, emerging with the sticky handkerchief full of honey she had brought for a snack. It had been crushed against the ground when she fell, and was sticky with honey that had been squeezed from the combs. This time Kara set the glaive down, leaving it behind, both hands gripping the handkerchief.
The bear snarled as Kara approached, scooping the newly-freed cub behind her to join the other one. The bear reared, but didn’t swing, gaze fixed on the small human. Kara approached with hands out and open, the handkerchief clutched between them, held slightly open. The bear sniffed at the air, and made a noise of half-pain, half-confusion, snout shifting as her gaze fixed on the honey-coated fabric.
Kara reached for the injured paw, slowly, extending the hardkerchief towards it. The bear roared and pulled it away, swatting at her without intent; the strike missed by more than a foot, clearly just a warning.
Kara hesitated, then dropped a bigger piece of honeycomb onto the ground. The bear lowered her head to it, beginning to eat. Kara picked the other chunks off, leaving just the bits of honey behind. She had to try. With the decision made, her shaking stopped. Kara wiped her hand against the ground, leaving the bits of honeycomb behind.
The cubs and the bear lapped at the honeycomb, the bear still crunching noisily at the first big piece. Kara seized her moment, lunging forward and wrapping the handkerchief around the bear’s paw, pressing the stickiest part squarely over the gaping wound where the claw had been.
The bear snorted and huffed, making a low whining sound, but didn’t swipe at Kara, busy still crunching at the honeycomb. The moment Kara released the handkerchief the bear pulled her paw back, but she didn’t even both to look at Kara this time.
Kara didn’t press her luck, half crawling back, clearing a few feet before she rose, backing up still, swooping up the glaive as she went. She crouched at the edge of the clearing for a few moments, too dizzy to move anymore, and watched the bear and her cubs finish the honeycomb. The bear gathered the two cubs up with grunts and snorts, and ambled away, using her injured paw gingerly but able to walk on it. At the edge of the clearing she stopped and looked back at Kara, letting out a soft whuff noise. The shier of the two cubs clung close to her hind leg; the bolder one, newly released from the cage, scampered back and forth, uncowed by the experience.
Kara realized she was shaking again only after the bear had gone. She rubbed her face with her hand, glancing around. The hunters she would leave. They deserved a burial, Kara knew it, but she didn’t have the strength. She got up to go and stopped. Lying on the ground nearby was the severed claw, still attached to bits of gory fur. Kara slowly knelt and then picked it up. A keepsake, she decided. Something to remind her of the bear’s courage, her utter determination to protect her little ones.
Kara started back towards her camp, walking slowly, glaive in hand. It was late today; she needed to bandage her wounds, to rest her head. Tomorrow, she decided, she would head back to Waterdeep. Her place was there - those she needed to protect were there. She had sulked in the woods long enough. The bear’s fierce heart would be her guide, Kara promised herself. She would hide no more.
((Word count: 4760))
