It stepped forward.
That’s when I bolted—not away, but up.
I grabbed for the nearest tree. My shoes skidded against bark, my fingernails scraped wood, and with panic for rocket fuel I launched myself halfway to the heavens, clinging to a branch that I hoped was high enough to keep me safe… at least until I figured out what to do next.
The bear stood below, eyeing me like it was wondering whether I was worth the effort.
It turned and walked a short distance away.
Then stopped, sat on its ass, and waited.
I guess it was waiting for me to try and make my escape… or slip off the branch… or fall out of the tree from sheer exhaustion. In all three of those scenarios, I feared the bear had the advantage over me.
“Think, Brooks,” I panted. “What did Milton say? The knight doesn’t fight alone. He calls his comrades, and together they make themselves look bigger, louder, fiercer, to frighten the dragon away.”
Up in the tree, I spread my arms wide and bellowed, “Begone, beast! I am the tyrant of tidiness! Tremble before my pedantic ways!”
The bear blinked. Then licked the dripping saliva off its lips.
“Oh god,” I muttered. “I always thought I’d go quietly in an armchair with a book in my lap. Not death by brunch!”
Suddenly the bushes thrashed. “Oh no, not a another one. I don’t want them arguing over the menu!”
I heard the pounding of footsteps. Human footsteps.
And then—
“Brooks!”
Cody burst into the clearing, mud-streaked and chest heaving.
“Cody! Cody!” I shouted with so much joy I almost did fall out of the tree. “I’m up here!”
He jerked his head, looking up at me, thrilled. “Oh my god, you’re alive! I found you! I followed the bow ties!” Then, confused. “What the bloody hell are you doing up there?”
Words failed me and all I could do was point.
Cody turned, then gasped, then froze on the spot. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s a bear.”
“Excellent deduction, Sherlock!” I screeched from my branch.
The bear didn’t move from its spot on the grass, but its tongue slid back and forth across its lips like some cartoon bear the moment it spotted Cody.
I could hear the clack of Cody’s gulp from my perch.
“What do we do?” he whispered hoarsely, not taking his eyes off the bear.
“I think we’re supposed to act bigger and scarier than it is,” I offered… from the safety of the tree.
“Seriously? And how do we do that.”
“Wave your hands in the air, jump up and down, shout at it. Anything to frighten it away.”
Cody inhaled, exhaled, and nodded as he mustered his courage. “All right, then.” He squared his shoulders, spread his arms wide. “Oy! Rack off! Gawn, get! Bugger off, ya mongrel.”
“Cody, what are you doing? It doesn’t speak Australian.”
He shot me a glare. “Well, what language does it speak then, Brooks? Because my bear-ese is a little rusty.”
