The sound of gunfire from the practice range had scared off most wildlife within several kilometers.Wild boars, deer—anything edible had fled deep into the woods.So Limo had to drive his ATV farther and higher into the hills, hoping to track down a stray beast for dinner.
He followed a steep, rocky stream bed, its sides blanketed in green ferns and tree roots.Pine trees stretched on endlessly.He parked by a berry bush and opened his map.
According to it, he was roughly six kilometers from Gantsuke's group, and about 300–400 meters above sea level.
Sliding the map into the side pocket of his camo jacket, Limo slung a scoped M14 rifle over his shoulder.At his hip, a machete; on his back, a light pack with some snacks and essentials.
He'd skipped the morning's training session on purpose.If they were to survive a week out here, someone had to hunt.
He glanced at his analog field watch: ten minutes to four.
Grabbing a fistful of soil, he let it slip through his fingers to gauge the wind direction, then made his way up toward a rocky outcrop flanked by young pines and low shrubs, keeping himself downwind the whole time.
He spread out a tarp, sat, and leaned against the rock to wait.
From here, he had a clear shot range of 400 to 500 yards down toward a sloping pine glade filled with soft grass and berry bushes—ideal for wild deer or boars.
The cold stillness of the mountains settled in around him like a soft fog.He sat unmoving for nearly three hours.
Then—movement.
Roughly 200 yards away, to the right, a small herd of five deer emerged from the brush.
They paused, ears twitching.Sensing no danger, they wandered into a clearing and began to graze.
Limo clicked off the safety.
He took a deep breath, centered the crosshairs on the biggest buck—its antlers majestic, worthy of a wall mount.Enough meat there to feed them for two weeks, easy.
Phfft.The silenced shot cracked like a whisper.The buck jerked, bolted a few steps, then collapsed.
The others scattered.
Beautiful shot.Limo smirked—but then coughed twice, dry and sharp.
He stood to pack his things and head toward the body, but—
GRAWWWR.
A deep, guttural roar came from the right.
A massive brown bear charged at him from just twenty meters away, fangs bared, its eyes full of rage.It must've been sleeping in the brush.Neither had seen the other until it was too late.
Limo's heart slammed in his chest.The ground trembled beneath the beast's weight—easily 300 kilos, maybe more.Two meters tall and full of fury.
Shit.No time to shoulder the rifle.
He swung it from his waist and fired blindly—
Thump-thump-thump-thump.Four rounds.Two hit a tree.Two struck the bear's gut as it reared up on hind legs.
It barely flinched.
It roared, then swiped its right paw—razor claws tearing through his jacket like a katana through paper.SLAASH.
The blow sent Limo crashing onto his back.
The bear lunged, jaws open to crush his skull.He shoved the rifle's barrel into its mouth.
Dammit—It tore the rifle away and flung it aside.
Limo drew his .357 from his hip—fired—
Bang!But the bear batted his hand away, and the shot exploded harmlessly into a tree.
His revolver flew out of reach.
The bear roared in triumph, then bit into his wounded shoulder."AAAGHH!"He screamed as his own bones cracked in its jaws.It jerked, trying to rip the arm clean off.
Limo punched the side of its face with his good hand, but it did nothing.
Then—
Thunk!
A carbon fiber arrow pierced the bear's side.
It reeled, snarling in pain.
Thunk!Another arrow—this time to the head.The bear bucked, then collapsed backward—crushing Limo beneath it.
"Ugh..."The beast's massive head pinned Limo's chest.He could barely breathe.
Tiny red mites crawled on the bear's nose as Limo's vision blurred.
Footsteps approached.
"He's alive," said a young male voice.
The boy knelt beside him, hands moving to push the bear's head off Limo's chest.
The hunter tried to breathe—but it was like air couldn't reach his lungs.
Warm blood poured from his mangled shoulder, spreading a growing numbness through his limbs.
"Hang in there. I'm stopping the bleeding first," the boy said, voice calm but firm.
Limo's eyelids grew heavy.
His last thoughts drifted back to the deer... to the food...to a warm house where the girls laughed, and his beloved cat—
...Cameron...
He imagined soft fur brushing against his shoulder—
And then, nothing.