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This next part is difficult for me to write, even after all of the years that have passed since that difficult experience. Call it a hard lesson, if you will, that a simple life is neither easy nor is it pretty. On the contrary, life is hard, uncertain, and often short in situations where technology is unknown.

I spent the first twenty-six years of my life living in a world that was based on technology and machines. I was comfortable enough in that world, but the last eight years of having to endure the drudgery of nine to five workdays in order to make a living often made it easy for me to romanticize about living in simpler times far removed from the stresses that modern life so often imposes on a large portion of the human population. While I may have longed for a simpler life in the past, my new life was teaching me that a simpler life wasn't necessarily an easier one. Stone Age life, as I was fast learning, was a hard and dangerous existence, one where backbreaking work and questions of survival were daily occurrences. I was to learn these truths painfully, and in a manner that drastically changed my life on a beautiful day in the late spring of my first year in this world.

I was outside early that morning. Sharra had wandered off somewhere, probably to do some hunting, and I contented myself with my regular daily routine of practicing with my spears and throwing stick. If I recall correctly it was sometime in the second week of May. The snow had all melted away and lush green life sprouted from the damp earth and crawled skyward under the warmth of the springtime sun. The clearing surrounding the cabin was a sight to behold. There were long green grasses and flowers in such numbers and colours that the eye was dazzled by the spectacular beauty of it all. The mountain peaks in the distance still retained their crowns of snow and likely would right through the summer, but the breeze held a welcome warmth and the promise of summer in its gentle breath. After dealing with snow and cold weather for the last several weeks, it was with an unbelievable sense of freedom that I was able to venture outside without the added encumbrance of several layers of clothing.

With the recent warm weather, the first mosquitoes of the year were making an appearance and were threatening to destroy my good mood. I swatted at them and wished I had a can of bug repellent with me. I settled myself into my usual position roughly fifteen metres from the shed and took a moment to limber up. The sun was warm against my shoulders and I held my eyes closed for a moment and stood motionless, listening to the sounds of the springtime forest. Birds chirped among the scrub willows scattered throughout the clearing and I heard the distinct croaking of a raven in the distance. Such familiar sounds, they reminded me that no matter how much my life had changed over the past several weeks, there were some things that had stayed the same. Unfortunately that also included the incessant buzzing of bloodthirsty insects orbiting my head. I muttered something under my breath and slapped at a sting on the back of my neck. Briefly, I wondered if Sharra was bothered as much as I was by these infernal bugs. Chances were that they wouldn't even be able to penetrate that thick coat of fur she had.

I continued my warm-up for another minute or so, making sure that I was good and loosened up. The last thing I needed to do was hurt myself and be unable to hunt for a couple of weeks until I healed up. I unhooked my throwing stick from my belt and made a couple of trial swings. Satisfied that I was ready, I stooped and picked up one of my spears. I had made three practice spears over the last week, experimenting with using stone points instead of metal simply because metal was getting harder and harder to find. That metal shortage had driven me to begin experiment with knapping stone in an attempt to come up with a suitable point but with little success. The stone I was able to find in these parts was not the best stuff to try to make spear points out of. I recalled that ancient humans had used flint or chert but I had no clue as to what those kinds of stone even looked like. I'm no geologist so my attempts were limited to picking up a chunk of rock, hitting it with another chunk and trying to keep my fingers out of the way. If it flaked in a way that made it even the least bit sharp, I'd try to use it. I'm almost ashamed to say it, but most of my creations at that time were put to shame by the stone tools made by proto-humans a couple of million years ago. Most them could barely be classified as 'pointed' and none of them fell under the category of 'sharp'. Nearly all of them simply bounced off the side of the shed whenever I hit it, which wasn't that often. The only good thing about those points was that they made my practice spears fly along a similar path as my hunting ones.

As I settled the first of my spears against the curved, hooked end of my throwing stick, my thoughts drifted back over the last seven weeks as they often did whenever I had the time to think. I had changed so much in such a short time. Where once I had been a typical example of a human male in his mid twenties living a rather typical early twenty-first century life, that person was gone now, transformed into a scruffy, bearded and unwashed mountain man trying to eke out a living in the wilderness using stone age tools and weapons. Taking a deep breath, I drew my arm back and held my body in delicate balance for a moment, the point of my long spear wavering slightly as I concentrated on my target. I exhaled slowly and then cast my arm forward, sending the nearly six foot long stone tipped spear arcing towards the rough outline of a deer I had drawn in charcoal on the side of the shed. There was a heavy thump as the spear struck home and rebounded off to the side. It was a little off the mark, hitting a little high and slightly off to the right, but not too bad considering that it wasn't all that long ago that I had a hard time even hitting the side of the shed from here. I bent down and picked up another spear.

The next shot was a little better, and would have been a killing stroke had my target been a real animal. I grinned widely after that. Slowly but surely, my skills were improving. I stooped and picked my third and last spear from the grass at my feet. The smile faded from my face as I prepared for another throw. Yes, I was getting better but I understood all to well that there was a big difference between hitting a stationary target out in the open and hitting a wary animal in the depths of the forest. Short of that one lucky kill nearly three weeks back, all of my other hunting excursions had come up empty. My lack of success at hunting was gnawing away at my meagre supply of confidence and I desperately needed to become more effective with these crude weapons. Food was always a constant worry, and were it not for Sharra bringing home the occasional grouse or rabbit we would be going quite hungry indeed. I had already lost a fair bit of weight and I hadn't exactly been overweight to start with.

Some of my frustration at my ineffectiveness as a hunter came to the surface and I threw my last spear a little harder than I should have. The accuracy of my cast suffered and the spear caught the corner of the shed and ricocheted off into the trees, rattling off of trunks and branches as it flew out of sight. A stinging warmth that spread slowly through my shoulder told me that I had overextended something. I swore and stretched out my shoulder a bit, gritting my teeth. That had been too close. My right shoulder had always been a little temperamental ever since I had screwed it up pitching too many games of baseball as a kid and now was not a good time to aggravate an old injury.

Flexing my shoulder and arm, I walked down to the shed to retrieve my spears. The first two were easy enough to find both of them having rebounded only a short distance from the wall of the shed. I picked them up and examined them carefully. Sharra had spent long hours teaching the art of making rawhide bindings for spear points and I checked to make sure that the points were still held tightly in the spear shafts. I poked the points with a finger. So far the bindings seemed to be holding, but the 'point' and I use that term loosely, on one of the spears had snapped in half and part of it had stayed behind in the wall of the shed, leaving me one spear that was a whole lot less than pointed. I grunted something and frowned, twirling the spear in my fingers as I wondered if I could sharpen it somehow.

Something strange brushed across my mind just then. An echo of a thought, a burst of confused imagery and sound that flared to life behind my eyes for the briefest of instants before dying away.

I jumped in surprise, not only because it was unexpected, but also because that feeling had a sense of urgency wrapped up in a touch that had become familiar to me over the last couple of weeks. I stood still for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. When the sensation didn't repeat itself after a minute or so, I shrugged and wandered off into the forest to look for my third spear, a growing sense of unease tagging along at my heels as I wandered into the trees.

I searched for my spear for a couple of minutes, a search that was the Stone Age equivalent of looking for a needle in a haystack. I didn't find it and was a bit annoyed at that since I would have to make a new one to replace it, but that feeling soon passed. Making the spears, especially the stone points, was very a time consuming process for me. Each spear took the better part of a day for me to complete, and usually left me with crossed eyes and a sore back from sitting hunched over a chunk of wood and stone for hours on end. I shrugged that thought away. I needed the practice anyways and I had plenty of time on my hands these days with which I could use to make more weapons. I turned to head back to the clearing and only managed a couple of steps before I was hammered between the eyes by a tidal wave of emotions and imagery. The sheer force of it made me stagger.

Images flickered through my mind at an impossible pace. Like some freakish slide show, the pictures flashed before my eyes and my heart lurched in time with them. A wave of terror sliced through me and I fell forward to my knees. Pain flashed through my head and I pressed my hands to my temples. I was so sure at that point that I had finally snapped and crossed the fine line between sanity and insanity, for the chaos that steamrolled through my head did not originate from within it, but from somewhere and someone else entirely. It came from the only friend I had in this world.

My head snapped up. Blue sky and trees swam in my suddenly fuzzy vision. Nausea welled up and I almost puked.

Sharra. She was inside my head somehow. She was in trouble and terrified to the point of losing control. I didn't know what to do. I knelt there, terrified, worried, wondering what the hell was going on as my head was invaded with someone else's thoughts. My hands involuntarily balled into fists, and my breathing came in shallow gasps. A fierce onslaught of images and emotions slammed into me again, making me wince and cry out in pain as the avalanche smashed through my mind. What I saw and felt behind my eyes tormented me. A huge grizzly bear, mouth gaping in a soundless roar, lashing out with a huge paw tipped with the deadly curve of razor claws. I saw grey fur and blood. I felt desperate terror and the flare of pain. There was a brief and uncertain blackness and then the gaping maw of the bear leered huge and terrifying from behind the cover of a knot and branches and deadfall. I watched in helpless horror as a huge paw tore at that insubstantial barrier. Yellow teeth snapped mere inches from my face and I could almost smell the bear's rancid breath. The images abruptly stopped. I flinched and a sickening realization knotted in my gut.

I forced myself to my feet, staggering as the adrenaline sang in my veins. Numbly I reached down for my spears. I stopped halfway. No, those were no good. I needed the ones I used for hunting. I looked at my pale, shaking hand. I closed my eyes and clenched it into a fist. I was off at a dead run before I even knew it.

I barged through the door of the cabin, hardly even slowing to grab my hunting spears before I fled back out the door as fast as my legs would carry me.

To this day, I still do not understand how I knew where to go. I think I followed the tenuous link between Sharra and I that still itched faintly in the back of my mind, but I can't be sure. I didn't have the time to dwell on it then. I was overcome with desperate fear. Somewhere out there, among the tangled labyrinth of trees, Sharra was in serious trouble. I knew that she was still alive, as we still shared an impossible mental connection, but I knew beyond a doubt that she had been badly injured.

I blasted through the forest at a breakneck pace, hurdling fallen trees and crossing over and through piles of deadfall, heedless of the branches whipping and stinging at my face and arms. Within minutes, I was bleeding from a dozen small scrapes and cuts and I didn't even feel the pain. My thoughts were completely focused; my vision narrowing so that the only thing I saw was the trail before me. Trees whizzed by and my feet pounded on the soft earth. Leaves rustled and branches cracked as I flew down the narrow path. After a minute or two of hard running, I sensed that I was getting closer. Again I don't know how I knew this, I just knew. I felt it in my bones that I was indeed getting closer to where Sharra was. It was a very strange sensation indeed, something almost impossible to put into words. I adjusted my wild flight through the trees slightly, aiming towards where I knew Sharra would be. I came out of the trees and into the bright sunshine of a grassy clearing at a flat out run. I was panting heavily and my legs were already numb. I could feel the sweat dripping down the sides of my face. My shirt was soaked with it and it clung to my body as I ran. I crossed the clearing in seconds and entered the cool shade of the trees. A gust of wind tugged at my sweat soaked shirt, sending a welcome chill through me. My lungs burned and my body cried out for rest, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The itch that scrabbled in the back of my head drove me on relentlessly.

A hill rose up before me, a long tree studded ridge that barred my path. A narrow trail wound it's way up the incline, meandering through a toothpick forest of young lodgepole pines. Close, the itch in my brain told me, so close. I put everything I had into the run up the hill. Branches cracked and snapped under my pounding feet. My shoulder glanced off of a resin coated tree trunk. I stumbled slightly but recovered after a couple of steps. I crested the hill at a flat out run, sweat streaming down my face and my leg muscles screaming in agony. Gravity took over on my descent down the other side of the ridge and I stumbled again, catching my foot under a log nearly hidden from view by the leafy spring growth sprouting up from the forest floor. The world spun and blurred in a kaleidoscope of brown, green and blue and I crashed face first into the moss, my spears clattering away from my outstretched hand. Stars danced in front of my eyes and I gulped the cool forest air in deep gasping breaths as I waited for a few seconds, hoping the trees would stop spinning around me. When the world finally stopped moving, I staggered to my feet. I swayed unsteadily for the briefest of moments, collected my spears from where they had landed and was of running again before most of my brain even realized that I was vertical.

My mad rush ended at the base of the hill. In the five or ten metres it took for me to come to a sliding, slithering halt, I overshot the carcass of a freshly killed deer and one very large grizzly bear that look more than a little pissed at me for having interrupted his meal.

The world seemed to die around the two of us as we stared at each other. A low burbling growl rumbled from up from the bear's chest and it reared up on its hind legs. Anger filled eyes glared at me from atop a seven-foot tower of fur and muscle. A thread of drool dripped from the corner of its mouth. I stood rooted to the spot as one of my greatest fears was realized. I knew the animals in this world did not have the instinctive fear of humans that their counterparts I remember from my old life possessed in great quantities. I spent a lot of time worrying about what would happen if I encountered a bear, a pack of wolves, or some other carnivorous creature that would see me not as something to be feared but as its next meal instead. Any way I looked at that possibility, it wasn't a good thing. My heart hammered against my ribs and I swallowed nervously. Armed only with spears tipped with fragments of sharpened metal, and with only the power of my muscles, even amplified as they were by my throwing stick, my chances of getting out of this situation without getting turned into a pile of shredded meat looked about the same as winning the lotteries I played in my old life. I took a few slow steps back and cautiously leaned my weight against a handy tree trunk. My head was spinning from the fear, adrenaline and the sprint through the forest. I took a moment and tried to catch my breath. The bear sniffed and grunted, catching traces of my sweat and fear soaked scent waft towards him. It looked slightly confused and wary at the unfamiliar scent and I dimly realized that this animal had probably never encountered a human before. The sound of its uncertain snuffling seemed loud among the trees.

As I leaned there, eyeing the grizzly with a wary eye, I could feel that Sharra was somewhere very close. I could feel her presence; I could almost smell it on the breeze that gently caressed the green foliage around me. A faint, tingling, buzzing sensation in the back of my mind wouldn't leave me alone and it nearly drove me mad with the knowledge that Sharra was near at hand and injured. I had to find her soon. I began to glance hurriedly about, searching for any sign of my friend. When I didn't immediately see anything, desperation began to set in. Through the fog of adrenaline driven fear that had overwhelmed my mind, I thought that I could feel our link weakening...

The bear had other ideas though, and one of them looked to be making me pay for the unwelcome interruption of its meal. It growled again, a low rumbling sound that paralysed me with fear. I thought I felt that growl vibrate the forest floor. The bear moved slowly towards me, branches cracking under its huge paws. It was cautious at first, unsure of what I was and what threat I posed. I backed away slowly as it approached, wondering just what the hell I was going to do next. My entire being screamed at me to turn and run but I knew that would be a fatal mistake. Grizzly bears may be big and they may look clumsy, but they can run a whole hell of a lot faster than any human can, especially one scared out of his wits and already tired from running through the forest. Running would also mean leaving Sharra behind and knowing that she was injured and needed my help gave me some small bit of courage that helped me to stand my ground and not give into the primal urge to flee from danger. With blood pounding in my ears and hands that shook like leaves in the autumn wind, I nocked a spear into my throwing stick. I closed my eyes and offered up a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening. I suspected that nothing short of divine intervention would allow Sharra and I to survive what was to come.

The bear kept approaching at an unnervingly slow and steady pace. Its eyes were fixed on me and every now and then it would drop its nose to the forest floor and sniff deeply at the traces of my scent that still lingered there. It was still uncertain as to what I was and I gripped my throwing stick a little tighter. An advantage, albeit a tiny one. If luck was with me it might allow me a clear shot, but little else. I briefly toyed with the idea of trying to lead the animal away but realized that would be fruitless. With a fresh kill nearby, only a fight would drive the bear away, a fight that I suspected would be heavily one-sided. I had to try though. If I gave up Sharra would probably die and I knew I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt at having done nothing to try and help her. On the flip side of that coin, there was a really good chance that I would be the one to die if I got in a fight with a four hundred kilo grizzly armed as I was with weapons that were on the cutting edge of progress sometime during the last ice age. I crouched behind the cover of a moss covered tree trunk and thought furiously for a moment. At least if I fought, there was the smallest chance that both Sharra and I might emerge from this nasty situation alive. I had a brief moment of clarity pass over me then. I had little left to live for. My life had been torn away from me and I had been forced to start over again. There was only one person left to me. One friend in this entire world, one who had saved my life when I first arrived here. One person, even though she wasn't human, who had started to mean a lot to me. Would it be such a bad way to die trying to save a friend? I sighed and shook my head. I must have watched too many movies in my old life if thoughts like that were getting in my head at a time like this. Still, I thought, better to die trying to help than to die alone and plagued with guilt for not trying.

I tensed, my muscles coiling like steels springs, my spear and throwing stick clenched in a clammy, shaking hand. The bear had lost sight of me, but it still had my scent trail. I shifted positions ever so slightly and crouched at the ready, waiting for any opportunity to cast my spear at the bear. I cautiously peered over the top of the log. The bear lumbered closer, nose to the ground.

Fifteen metres. My breathing was shallow and rapid. I used every ounce of my strength to keep from fleeing what my brain was telling was certain and gruesome death.

Ten metres. My heart beat a staccato against my ribs. Sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging as it washed over cuts from my wild run through the forest. My right hand clenched my weapons in a death grip. Too close! My mind screamed at me to run but somehow I held my ground.

Seven metres. The bear paused to sniff something. I could smell its rank and carrion laced animal odour. My right arm was poised, ready. The bear turned slightly, sniffling deeply among the rotten leaves and moss at the fear laden trail I had left behind me. My breath caught in my throat as it's unprotected side slowly rotated into view.

I rose up from behind the log, arm drawn back. Muscles uncoiled and my arm started the spear on its unstoppable journey. The bear heard me move and began to turn. It wasn't fast enough. A slow motion scene played out before my eyes. The spear arced towards the bear and its head slowly came up, anger filling its eyes. It was roughly then that I realized that throwing a six foot long chunk of wood tipped with the broken blade of an old knife at a four hundred kilo grizzly was possibly one of the stupidest things I had ever done. In the accelerated state of mind that held me firmly in in its grasp, I knew that such an act would only serve to ensure that the bear would be even more pissed off with me than it already was. As it turned out, I was actually surprised that I hit the thing.

I watched in fascination as the spear arced towards the grizzly and hit it low in the side, just behind the ribs. The slow motion feeling ratcheted up a notch or ten as the huge animal roared in pain and rage and whirled to slap at the piece of wood that protruded from its chest. Too far back! My mind cried out. The hit had not been a good one and had probably missed hitting any vital organs. I suddenly knew with cold certainty that I was a dead man. I swallowed convulsively and stood paralysed with fear as the bear pounced on the spear and reduced it to toothpicks in mere seconds. I wasn't waiting around to see what happened next. I let the reflex to flee take over. The roar that sounded from behind me told me that I was right about my spear doing little but making the bear very, very angry. The huge animal came after me like a bullet.

I don't think I have ever run so fast in my life. Having a seriously pissed grizzly on your tail with the intent of turning you into a pile of red mush will do that for you at the least. I knew that I had no hope of outrunning the bear and that my only chance of survival lay in getting up a tree and quick. As I heard the bear closing in on me, I gave one great lung bursting stride, threw my spears to the side and jumped up to grasp a low hanging branch of a large spruce tree. For a brief second the feel of rough, resinous bark clenched in my hands was reassuring but a sudden, numbing blow to my left leg tore the branch from my grasp and sent me head over heels into a scrub willow bush.

I lay crumpled in that bush for what felt like an hour. Stunned and reeling from the blow from the bear's paw, I could do little but wait for the beast to come and finish me off. When my death didn't arrive in the expected onslaught of roaring, slashing, fury I struggled to pull myself together and crawled slowly from the bush. Sharp branches poked at my hands and knees as I groggily fought my way through the interwoven tangle of leaves and branches. Somehow, I found the strength to push myself to my feet. I staggered slightly as my left leg kept wanting to buckle under my weight. A stinging warmth was spreading through my calf. I tried my best to ignore it. I didn't want to look at it, not now. There would be time for that later. Not likely, said small voice in the back of my mind. I shook my head, trying to regain my senses. Deep down, I knew that the voice was right. I was as good as dead. Strangely, that realization didn't bother me very much. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the shock, I don't know.

The expected attack didn't come. The bear was still out there, a brown patch partially obscured by the leafy greenness that surrounded me. A low, wet burbling sound reached my ears. It was followed by a rasping cough.

Standing as still as a statue, I let my eyes search for the weapons that I had foolishly cast aside in my mad rush to get out of the bear's way. The familiar, reassuring shapes of my throwing stick and spears were nowhere to be seen and my heart sank. I still had my knife though, and with a trembling hand, I drew it from my belt and held it out before me. My eyes followed the line of the blade, the razor edge that I had spent so many hours honing to perfection with a flat piece of sandstone. I swallowed and looked straight ahead. Six inches of corroded steel between me and certain death. I never would have thought that my life would end this way, stranded on a world without humans, trying to save a humanoid wolf from an angry bear, and armed only with prehistoric weapons. The unreality of the situation I was facing made a brief smile quirk on my lips for a moment before it faded away. A strange end to my life to be sure, but an end nonetheless. The bear started to approach again and I tensed at the ready, knife clenched tightly in a hand slick with cold sweat.

I backed away, staggering as my left leg kept buckling. The bear growled and coughed as it approached and I noted with numb surprise that its approach was slow and laboured. As the beast moved, I caught a glimpse of blood soaked wood protruding from its left side. Blood trickled from the bear's nose and it coughed a spray of bloody droplets onto the forest floor. My heart soared and a ray of hope lit up my thoughts. My spear cast had been luckier than I ever could have imagined. The point had gone deep enough to puncture a lung. There was now the tiniest chance that I might get out of this insanity alive. However, it was just that, a tiny chance. I had already been injured and the bear was not dead yet, not by a long shot. Still, the beast advanced on me, hate and pain and rage all too evident in its eyes. I stumbled back fearfully, knife held out before me. The sharp edge of my blade glittered briefly in a shaft of sunlight that managed to pierce the dense canopy overhead.

The bear reared up on its hind legs and I staggered back even further. My heel bumped up against something hard and the world seemed to stop as I teetered on the razor's edge of balance. My left leg collapsed and the trees spun around me as I fell over backwards. In a flash the bear was down on all fours. It lurched forwards and claws latched on to my leg. Denim ripped and tore and lines of fire raced down my leg. I screamed and lashed out with my knife. I connected solidly and opened a long gash on the back of the bear's paw. The bear recoiled, roaring in rage and pain. I scrambled madly to my feet. The bear roared again and swung a paw the size of my head. A glancing blow stung my arm as I tried to jump out of the way. I was almost knocked off my feet again. I flew sideways and went shoulder first into a tree which such force that I was momentarily stunned. My knife was almost torn from my fingers but somehow I managed to hold on to it. Time seemed to stop. The forest swam dizzily in front of my eyes and I fought desperately to keep myself together. I was so tired by that point that it was all I could do to stay upright. The adrenaline that flowed like fire through my veins was the only thing left keeping me on my feet. I still felt no pain from my wounds, only a slowly spreading and tingling warmth. I noted numbly that blood welled up hotly from my lacerated forearm and trailed down my arm in a spider's web of red to drip from my fingers and stain the wealth of green at my feet with drops of bright red. I tried to readjust my grip on my knife only to find that the fingers on that hand had become stiff and unresponsive. I swore and gritted my teeth. With a nervous gulp I switched the knife into my left hand, and leaned against the tree, waiting for the blow that would likely start me on another journey, the final trip that all living things must take at the end...

The bear stood glaring at me a short distance away. It growled and coughed up more blood. I cautiously edged my away around the tree until the bulk of the trunk was between me and the bear. I watched, fascinated, as the animal lurched to the side and fell against a stand of young poplar trees, flattening them. Blood soaked the fur on its side where the shattered remnant of my spear protruded. The bear struggled to regain its feet and swayed unsteadily when it did. Its breath gurgled through perforated lungs. With every move it made, the spear point buried in its side cut deeper and deeper. Blood ran freely from its nose now. I stumbled away from the bleeding bear until I collided with another tree. I knew at that point that I could go no further. I had nothing left with which to fight. Every iota of my strength had been spent. I sagged against the rough bark, knife clenched in a shaking hand. My legs gave out on me and I sat down hard. The knife tumbled from my unfeeling fingers and fell with a barely audible thud into the moss between my legs. The bear stared at me, confusion all too apparent in its glazed eyes. Bloody bubbles began appearing on its lips and nose. If it came after me now, I knew I wouldn't be able to defend myself. Even getting back on my feet seemed like an impossibility. I was so exhausted that I didn't care anymore. I was pale and shaking after running on pure adrenaline for the last few minutes. I had done the best I could. I had fought the battle with everything that I had, but the odds had never been in my favour. I resigned myself to my fate, whatever that was. I just hoped that the end would be quick...

The bear took several slow and unsteady steps towards me. It towered over me, a huge, indomitable tower of fur, claws, teeth and muscle. I smelt its animal reek, I smelt the blood that flowed freely from its side. Its raspy, gurgling breath was loud in my ears. I looked right into the beast's eyes, saw the hate and pain there, but also confusion. I also saw something I didn't expect. The light behind those eyes was fading fast. The bear took one more step, swayed unsteadily and collapsed. Its huge and bloody muzzle came to rest scant inches away from my outstretched feet. It struggled briefly, great clawed paws tearing up chunks of the forest floor before it at last lay mercifully still. Its last breath trailed out into one final gurgle. I stared at the corpse dumbly, not quite comprehending what had just happened. Was it really over? My breath rattled through my throat in shallow gasps. Even though the entire fight with the bear had lasted barely more than a couple of minutes, it felt like an eternity. I shook my head slowly from side to side like a tired old dog. I did my best to force some sort of order back into what little was left of my thoughts. For some reason, I was still alive while the huge bear lay in death. I was so shocked that I couldn't understand it. I had been so prepared for my own death that my continuing existence was something of a mystery to me.

I slowly pulled myself to my feet, fingers gripping the tree trunk tightly. Something flashed through my mind just then, a re-awakening of my link with Sharra. It was a brief burst, perhaps five seconds or so, but it was five seconds packed with pain and disorientation. It seemed to last five hours and it threw me into a panic. I had to find Sharra before she died on me.

I stumbled past the corpse of the bear. The damn thing twitched a leg when I was right alongside it and I jumped back several feet, my heart slamming against my ribs like a jackhammer. I clutched my knife tightly and steered a wide berth around the animal. Sightless eyes stared back at me. The first flies had already found the carcass and were buzzing hungrily around the bear's head. I watched as one landed on the bear's muzzle and crawled across a staring eye. It didn't blink. I had a sudden, piercing flash of memory. Those same eyes filled with pain and hate glaring at me from barely a foot away. I jerked and stumbled away from that empty stare as fast as my aching legs could carry me, trying desperately to put some distance between me and that haunting vision. When the corpse was some metres behind me, I leaned up against the papery trunk of a lone birch tree and tried to focus my thoughts on finding Sharra. She was around here somewhere. Unconscious by the feel of it, and weakening. Was it just my current state of mind or did the strands of our link seem to be fraying? Before I knew it I was staggering through the trees again, searching frantically for any sign of my friend. When I came upon the carcass of the deer I began to read the story that was written there, and it was not a happy one.

The deer had been killed with a spear. It lay beside the carcass, the point and bindings thick with semi-congealed blood. By the looks of it, Sharra had been part ways through the task of cleaning out the carcass when the bear had crept up on her from the downwind side. The signs of a struggle were all too obvious in the soft earth of the forest floor. Patches of moss and old leaves had been torn up and the dark earth underneath had been scattered about. Another spear lay nearby, a broken one, the pieces pushed haphazardly against the trunk of a tree. A tuft of grey fur clung to the moss there. My heart stuck in my throat as I reached down and picked it up in fingers that had suddenly turned to stone. It was off-white fur with long black tipped guard hairs. Sharra's fur, I knew it right away. There were a few small droplets of red that adhered to the strands of hair. Fear welled up and the wind stole the tuft of fur from my fingers. It slowly drifted down to cling to the bloodstained leaves of a fern that twisted up from the earth at my feet. The forest suddenly seemed deathly still and quiet. Sharra's knife lay among the bloodstained leaves at the base of the fern. I doubted that she'd even had the time to use it against her attacker. There was a blood trail that led away from that point, a trail so thick that a blind man could follow it. I held my breath and my heart lurched. That was a lot of blood for someone Sharra's size to lose. Without a moment's hesitation, I ran along that trail, fear and the deadness of the link in my mind fuelling my frantic pace. Blood dripped from my wounds to mix with Sharra's on the green leaves that lined the trail.

The trail ended at a huge pile of deadfall. Sometime in years past a huge spruce tree had been toppled in a summer storm and had taken many other trees with it as it fell. Those skeletons of trees were piled haphazardly and the trail of blood led directly to a small opening beneath the knot of dead branches and trunks. Sharra had crawled under that pile in a last ditch effort to save her life. There was blood on the branches around the opening and it was still sticky to the touch.

"Sharra?" I called out. There was no response. The dark mouth of the passage she had used to escape from the bear was ominously silent.

I tore at the obstructing branches in a panic until there was an opening large enough for me to squeeze through. I crawled into the gloom on my hands and knees. I crawled through the mud and blood, over sharp sticks that tore at my clothes and skin until my searching fingers encountered fur.

"Sharra, you okay?" I asked tentatively even though I already knew the answer. God, I hoped she was still alive...

I strained my ears into the gloom. After a moment of furious concentration, I was barely able to pick out the sound of Sharra's shallow breathing. A wave of relief swept through me. She was alive, but unconscious. I had to get her out of her hiding place and back to the cabin quickly. I took hold of her as gently as I could. She slid towards me with a sickening limpness.

It took me several minutes to get Sharra's limp form out from under the pile of deadfall. I was as gentle with her as I could be. She was already injured and I didn't want to make things any worse. Things were bad enough already. When I was finally able to see her in the light, a soft cry stuck in my throat. There was so much blood on her that I thought it impossible that she was still alive. She was still alive wasn't she? There was so much blood and she was lying so still that I wasn't sure anymore. I reached down with tentative fingers and searched gingerly for signs of life, scared to death that I wouldn't find any. I was almost at the point of panicking when my probing fingers at last found a pulse. She was alive! I breathed a huge sigh of relief and almost broke down into tears. I began to check her over to see how serious her injuries were, mindful that I had to get her out of here and back to the cabin as quick as possible. Only there would I be able to try and patch her up. She was covered in cuts and scratches from the bear's claws and puncture wounds from its teeth. There was a huge gash in her left side that I thought most of the blood had come from and I suspected that she had a couple of broken ribs on that side too. None of her injuries were bleeding all that severely anymore, mostly I thought because she had little left in her to bleed away. Any way I looked at it, she was in bad shape.

"Sharra?" I called out in a soft voice. I shook her shoulder gently. She stirred slightly and opened her amber eyes. Those eyes soon clouded over with fear and she suddenly let out a terrified yowl. Her arms flew up to protect herself from the horrible creature that loomed over her.

I can only imagine how I must have looked to her at that time, wild eyes staring at her from a face framed with unkempt hair and a scruffy beard. A pale skinned monster with ripped clothes, a hideous creature stained with mud and blood from head to toe. I must have appeared as something out of her deepest and darkest nightmares. I don't blame her for being afraid of me after everything she had been through.

I crouched there stunned as she whimpered and tried to crawl away from the terror that wanted nothing more than to help. My outstretched arms hung questioningly in mid air as she retreated from me. She didn't get very far before she had backed herself up against the deadfall that I had just pulled her out of. She collapsed on her side and turned to face me, ears flattened back and her teeth bared in a snarl that was more fear than anger.

"Sharra?" I asked uneasily. "It's me, John." I approached her slowly. No response. If anything she snarled louder and shrank away from me further. There was fear in her eyes. It struck me like a hammer that she didn't know who I was.

My shoulders sagged and my arms wavered and dropped to my side. Sharra snarled viciously at me like a cornered dog.

Something inside me snapped at that moment. The last ten minutes of adrenaline driven madness caught up with me in one big wave that threatened to push my sanity over the edge and into no man's land. What happened next is a dim, foggy memory seen indistinctly through the gloomy tunnel of the years. I still get a shudder down my spine when those images return to haunt me.

I yelled incoherently at Sharra, driven to the point of madness by the chaos of the last ten minutes. I reached out to grab her and she responded with a low growl. There was a blur of action. Teeth flashed white in a grey and white face framed with terrified amber eyes and pinned back ears.

It took me a moment to realize I was bleeding. I drew back, stunned, the madness receding into the distant background. A trickling warmth was spreading down the back of my right hand. I stared at Sharra in bewilderment and held my hand up in front of my face. Bright red blood welled up from a long tear in the back of my hand and coursed down my fingers to drip on the forest floor. Fresh green spring growth was once again stained with bright splatters of red.

Sharra crouched against the logs behind her, a low rumbling growl burbling from her throat. The fur on her neck and shoulders bristled.

I was momentarily stunned beyond comprehension. I couldn't believe that Sharra had bit me. I looked up from my lacerated hand and stared at her in shock. I was unable to think of what I should do next. Sharra glared right back at me, that low growl still rumbling through her chest. My gaze dropped back to my hand. I watched the blood ooze from the tear that Sharra's teeth had left in my hand. I felt like I was a thousand miles away, watching everything through a long dark tunnel that was closing in as the seconds ticked away. I shook my head in a futile attempt to try and clear my thoughts. The forest swam around me in dizzying waves. I so wanted give into exhaustion and collapse on the ground right then and there.

I snapped back to reality and my head came up when the link sprang back to life. I was instantly hit with a wave of her fear and she with my shocked disbelief. Sharra's growl abruptly stopped. A sharp intake of breath hissed between her teeth and her eyes clouded with pain. There was a brief flicker of confusion and surprise in the amber depths of her eyes as she stared fixedly at my bleeding hand. Her eyes found mine and I saw horrified realization there. She opened her mouth as if to say something. Before she could, her face twisted into an agonized mask of pain. A tortured whine escaped her muzzle and she clutched her injured left side and passed out cold.

I sat motionless for the briefest of seconds before rushing forward and checking Sharra for signs of life. She was still breathing and I felt relief wash through me. For a moment I thought that she had died. I gently took her in my arms, heedless of the sticky, bloody mess of fur she was. I had to get her back to the cabin. Only there might I be able to help her if she wasn't beyond my help already.

Sharra was light in my arms, too light and far too limp. Her fur was sticky with blood, both hers and mine. Worry clogged my brain, worry that I was already too late. Heedless of the blood that I felt soaking through my shirt, I began to run as fast as my aching body would let me.

The shadows behind me darkened and closed in as I fled toward the cabin