And I’m flat on my back. My head must have slammed down, because there’s a moment of black and then confusion, muffled shouts and—
“Casey?” Dalton’s voice, shakier than I’ve ever heard it. “Casey? Do not move. I have this. I swear I have this.”
Something blocks the sun. I blink, brain muzzy, registering only that someone’s bending over me.
Everything’s okay. Dalton is bending—
A face lowers over mine. A brown-furred face. Broad nose. Tiny eyes. Rounded ears.
“Casey?” Dalton says. “I have this.”
There is a bear standing over my head, looking down, face barely a foot over mine. Not the juvenile who’d knocked me down. Its mother.
A growl off to my side. One that has the mother bear’s head jerking up, and a moment of sheer relief that vanishes when I see what she’s looking at. Storm facing off with the young bear that tripped me.
“Eric?” I say, just loud enough for him to hear. “Call her back. Please.”
He hesitates, and I know what he’s thinking. Storm has the mother bear distracted as she faces off against the cub. Let the dog draw her away, and he’ll protect her once I’m safe.
Shoot the bears. Save Storm. Save me.
Wait, I heard two shots, and I don’t see any blood, don’t hear a whimper of pain. The shots were mine. I realize that now. When I fell, I’d fired, and neither bullet hit, because as easy as it is to say “I’ve got this,” there is a split second between pulling the trigger and the bullet hitting a target, and if that target is no longer where you aimed …
“Storm,” I say, louder, my voice firm. “Storm, back. Back.”
She retreats toward Dalton. The young bear only leans forward, nose working, still curious but not approaching as Storm retreats. The mother bear turns her attention back to me.
I’ve used the distraction to raise my gun as high as I dare, but it’s not quite right. She looks down at me. Her jaws open, and I see teeth as long as my fingers. Saliva drips onto my face. Her breath is hot, stinking of raw meat.
“Casey?” Dalton says. “I’m going to shoot.”
“No.”
“Yes, damn it. Now on the count of three, bring your gun up—”
“Wait.”
He swears, a ragged stream of profanity.
“I’m okay,” I say, and my voice is oddly calm. Am I in shock? If I am, then I might be making a terrible mistake.
“I’m okay right now,” I say. “I’m going to aim my gun. If she attacks, shoot.”
His laugh is almost shrill. “Yeah, that’s pretty much a given, Butler. She moves another millimeter toward you, and I’m pulling this fucking trigger.”
“Remember there are still two other bears. Is someone watching them?”
“I’ve got the first cub in my sights,” Leon says. “It’s staying back.”
“And I’m keeping an eye on this one,” Moses says. “Your dog is, too.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Now let me raise my gun.”
Again, I move it millimeter by millimeter. The bear doesn’t even blink. Her face is upside down over mine, jaws open just enough for me to see teeth that could rend flesh and crunch bone. I don’t think of that, though. I channel Dalton, and I force myself to see her, really see her. The gleaming thick fur and bright, intelligent eyes. She’s barely out of hibernation and thinner than she’ll be later this year, but she glows with health, a far cry from any bear I’ve seen in captivity. I listen to the sound of her breathing. I inhale the musky scent of her. I feel her hot breath on my face.
I will never be this close to a grizzly again, and so I will frame this moment in memory because I will survive to remember it. My gun is now high enough that one pull of the trigger will end the threat. I will survive, and I will look back with wonder and awe, and so I force myself to experience that now, slowing my heart rate and sharpening my focus.
If she wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. Same as Moses. I’ve seen bear attacks in movies, where you get between a mother and her cubs and she attacks like an avenging angel. That isn’t what’s happening here.