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The Steel Orb
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Fortress stood, armed with a sword, a crossbow, and several quarrels. He had given the pike to me; we followed several other men and spread out into the woods. Fortress told me, "I want you just to search, and cry out if you see the bear—we'll come. Don't attack the bear; just set the pike if it charges, and run once it's hit. I think you have a good chance of noticing the bear. Don't take any unnecessary risks."
We spread out, and I moved along, my feet slipping noiselessly on the forest soil. It was more of an effort than it should have been; my body seemed to move with all the fluidity of sludge. The forest looked more rugged than usual; the storm which almost killed me had torn through the forest, and the storm's mark was far heavier on the forest than the city. I thought of the saying that a storm is liquid fire.
I looked at a tree that had fallen. The dead tree had broken a branch on another tree, and left an unpleasant wound. I cut the hanging branch with my pike, to leave better wound. Then I placed my hand on the tree to bless it, and left it to heal.
I thought of how the hunt would go. Someone would see it, then the men would gather. Those the bear faced away from would fire a volley of arrows. Those it chased would run while others taunted it. When the hunters left the city, there was an edge of excitement; I don't think it would be the same if it were not risky.
I continued to move along noiselessly, and looked for a creek. I was thirsty. I blessed another tree, hoping it would heal: the storm had left some rather impressive wreckage. It was dead silent, and when I cut a damaged branch from a third tree, two things happened. First, I heard a babbling brook, and realized how parched I was. Second, part of my pike caught on the tree, and I couldn't wrest it free.
Leaving the pike for a moment, I stole away from the tree and refreshed myself at the brook. I sat for a moment and rested, breathing in simple joy. Then I heard a stick snap on the other side of a rocky outcropping. I realised I could hear some very loud pawprints.
I slithered up the rock, and looked around. I saw nothing.
Then I looked down, and saw the biggest bear of my life.
It looked around.
It smelled.
I held tight against the rock.
Something under my right hand moved noiselessly. My fingers wrapped around a large stone, the size of a man's skull.
Fear flowed through me. And excitement. I lifted the rock, slowly, noiselessly, and brought my legs in. I lifted the rock.
I felt with my left hand, and found a rock the thickness of my wrist. A flick of my wrist, and it crashed thirty cubits away.
The bear turned its head, and began to run.
As it ran, I jumped.
I began to fall.
I could see the forest moving as if it had almost stopped.
Between every beat of my heart, a thousand things happened.
I landed on the bear's back, astride it as if I were riding it.
Immediately the bear tensed, and began to turn.
The rock, still in my hand, crushed the bear's skull.
I could hear a crunch, and the bear's body suddenly went limp.
My hand released the stone.
The stone began to fall, about to roll over on my leg and crush me.
My hand caught a thin branch from a tree.
I pulled my legs up and pulled the branch as hard as I could.
I tore it off.
The bear's body turned.
Something slapped my other palm.
I pulled with all my strength, and my body lifted from the bear.
The bear hit the ground.
I looked around.
Most hunting parties killed a bear every few years.
I had heard of a warrior who had killed a bear alone.
I had never heard of someone kill a bear with only the weapons the forest provided.
I lowered myself to the ground.
I watched the bear breathe its last.
I shouted with a roar like a storm's fury.
Other men began to arrive. Their jaws dropped when they saw me standing over the bear's carcass—empty-handed.
Fortress walked up to me.
I smiled, with a smile of exhilaration such as I had never smiled before.
He looked into me, looked at all the other men, then curled up his hand and slapped me.
The slap resounded.
I touched my face in disbelief. I could feel hot blood where his nails had struck me.
"You disobeyed," he said.
He looked into me.
"Next time you do that," he continued, "it will be a bear's claw that slaps you. I don't know what the bear will look like, but it certainly will be a bear's claw that slaps you."
Jonathan's Corner
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The Steel Orb
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