There came a shuffling from beyond the forest wall, sounding off from behind the small hill the oaks were rooted on. It brought the young Idris to a stop, his worn boots halting in the snow as he looked towards the direction the scampering sounded from. Overtop the peak of the small hill, there appeared two black masses, prancing through the snow with a clear urgency. As they progressed out from beneath the trees onto the clear pathway, Ander was able to make out plainly what the creatures were. Before him, separated by a few dozen feet or so, were two small bear cubs, huddled together on the side of the pathway. They were frozen in sight of him, clearly startled by the human’s presence, as most small creatures were. Yet, unbeknownst to them, the boy was filled with a greater amount of fright. It was made apparent to Ander that they had company in the forest, as a murder of crows took to the trees above.

“Caw!”

The sight of bear cubs was an immediate sign of danger for all those acquainted with the wild, as they heralded the vicious mother bears. The beasts were terrible on their lonesome, but with the drive to protect their kin, they were beyond savage, much too dangerous for Ander, even if he were at his fullest. He began to pace backward, eyes pried open, scanning for any additional creatures.

And that’s when he heard it. From beyond the same hill came the thundering sounds of footsteps, belonging to a creature far larger than the two bearcubs. The third creature took no latency in making its debut, and a moment after it began sounding off, there came about a large black bear atop the small hill, teeth bared towards Ander. His heart raced, pounding out of his chest as his breath caught in his throat

Oddly enough, Ander wasn’t the only one in attendance who was put off by the third bear. The two smaller cubs, once frozen in sight of Ander, were quite jarred by the adult’s presence, whimpering in the snow. The cubs were only a little distance from the adult, and that’s when the human realized: the bear wasn’t after him, it was after the cubs.

“Caw!”

Letting out a great roar, the bear bolted forward, and collapsed its maw over the neck of the closest cub, slaying the poor creature with a loud *Crack!*. The remaining cub cried out, scampering away as the larger bear began to rip apart the dead whelp. It clawed its pelt to pieces and spat out onto the snow whatever remained. The bear wasn’t hunting the cubs for food, it was all for sport, as ambitious males would do to thin competition. Such a situation made Ander’s mental processes shut down, but only briefly, as not a moment later the larger bear looked up to snarl at the thin boy, announcing who its next target was. 

It let out a second roar, pounding its front paw into the snow, smearing the dead cub’s blood into the pearly white drift. The map was quick to drop from Ander’s hands as his fear took hold of him. What could he do? Where could he run? There was no escaping such a large beast, especially in its own forest. His thoughts were interrupted when the bear roared again, flashing its teeth almost as if it were smiling, reveling in the idea of tearing him to shreds.

In the blink of an eye, it was bounding towards him. The distance was closed in no shorter of a time, and with a quick strike, its claws sunk into his chest, pulling apart fabric and skin as Ander fell back, trying to escape it. He collapsed into the snow at his side, the bear charging past him having landed a clean hit, but yet to be fully satisfied. It seems hibernation left it with a great bloodlust, a depravity it wished to enact on the frail child.

Ander let out a great cry, something between a yell of agony and exertion. Blood was quick to soak up into his brown coat, bleeding out into the snow as he tried desperately to apply pressure. Wounds to the body, or anywhere except the extremities, couldn’t be slowed down by pressure, this he knew. It was just a flesh wound, but he was bound to sustain far greater injuries if he decided to stay in the snow. And so with a great effort, he hobbled back to his feet, turning to face the bear. It had rebounded from its first charge, pleased with the fresh blood painted across its claws. It let out a huff, signaling another charge was yet to come, this one it would be sure to make fatal.

“Caw!”

There came an oddity for the boy as time seemed to pause around him, the faint sounds of the forests and the heat of the hunt escaping the air. He felt still, with the pain of his wounds and the general sickness of his hungry form being of no burden to him. There was nothing but snow, boundless snow all about him, painting the earth and falling from the clouds above. Snow. Just snow.

There materialized the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, and the brush of a finger against his palm. The sensation was instantly recognized by the boy. Nina was with him at that moment, standing beside him from the world beyond his own, just as she always was. The heat of her spirit unthawed his icy soul, and from the depths of his mind, there came a faint voice, echoing endlessly.

Keep your promise. You must live. For us.

When time began to move, and the bear began to gather itself for another attack, a new awareness swelled within the boy. This was no hunt, this was no march to death. This was a fight, one he would wage with all his soul. He had one mission, one directive, one reason to keep going. He had to live, he couldn’t succumb to the death creeping before him. Teeth grit, chest heaving and mind focused to a tee, he reached around his back and unsheathed his knife, clasping it in his shaky hand.

The bear bellowed out another roar and began speeding towards him, its mouth open, ready to rip him apart with its razor-like teeth. He shook with fear but refused to yield, rushing towards the bear much the same. He noticed a rock at his side and dipped down to pick it up. With not a fraction of a second to spare, he hammered the rock into the side of the bear's head, making it stagger in its charge. The boy managed to escape it, but within the bear, there stirred an unyielding rage, brought on by the fight it found itself in. It was swift to turn and came upon him in an instant. 

Its jaw hung open, and was immediately upon his shoulder, digging its teeth into his flesh, tearing apart bone and sinew as it went. There came a cry from Ander, but not one of pain. It was a pretext for his counterattack, where he buried Nina’s knife into the rough pelt of the bear, stabbing it where he assumed its neck was. It just barely pierced the surface, and as it bottomed out, he rolled back and stabbed again, sending crimson flying through the air. The bear snarled in pain, but refused to let go, gripping down harder as it began to shake him.

I WILL LIVE.

The words echoed endlessly in Ander’s mind, filled with a rabid rage, egged on by his great pain. He continued stabbing, so much so that eventually the bear let go of his shoulder, with the intent to flee the boy’s blade. It galloped back, blood dripping from its neck wound. Every strike was powered by intense emotion, all of his torment receiving form in his rusty blade. It was clear what he struck with. It was his refusal to die, his refusal to leave this world, his refusal to break his promise.

The bear, now unstable upon its own feet, was torn between charging the boy and fleeing into the night. It would never make that choice, as a second later, Ander was upon the beast, stabbing ferociously into its pelt. It let out a groan, trying to flee, but ultimately succumbed to falling into the snow. Despite having given up, the boy continued his assault, crying bellowing from his lungs as he raised and lowered his arms in a flash.

I.

WILL.

LIVE!

“Caw!”

“I.”

“WILL”

“LIVE!”

The life was long gone from the bear now, yet Ander continued stabbing. Seconds passed, and when the head of the beast was held to the body with nothing more than a strand of fur, his attacks slowed. With a final swing, he cut the head clean off before collapsing into the bloody pelt, tears pouring down his red-soaked face. Everything had come undone, and the fire to survive burned hot within him. Sobs took hold of him for a moment, but when he composed himself, he reeled back on his knees, and let loose a visceral roar, clearing the murder of crows from the trees above as they took to the air. The threat had been eliminated, and the rabid beast within Ander had won. 

Blood-soaked and strewn with injuries, he rose to his feet, gasping for breath in his victory over the bear. He had lived. His word had been kept. After losing so much, for so long, he had finally achieved victory over something. Death had been bested that day, and when he composed himself, he took one of the bloodied paws of the bear and strung it up over his right shoulder. The snow was slick, and his traction was poor, but little by little, he began to drag the bear, picking up the discarded map in the process. The carcass was heavy, far too heavy for any reasonable person to try to drag. Yet he did so anyway.

The bear was his kill. It was his, and no one else's. He was the one who survived, he was the one who overcame death.

The march resumed, and the only sensation Ander felt was that of the primal fire raging within him. He burned hot in the snow, with the blood of his wounds and the hunger of his chest vanishing into the frigid air. The stars, hung high in the sky, told the boy it was around midnight, and so quickened his journey towards the hideout, but not without company. As time went on, a pack of wolves was quick to take interest in his kill, following him from within the den of wood, eager to snatch the meat. Often, they would journey onto the path, but Ander was quick to dissuade them from their endeavors.

“BACK, BACK!” He called, waving his knife, eyes bloodshot and filled with fire. “MY KILL!”

“IT’S MINE!”

“MY! KILL!”

And so the night went on, boundless and bare. The night that, after months of loss and pain, Ander found himself a victor at last.