Chapter 0003: Death and Squalor (3)

There truly is nothing like an encounter with a bear to wake you up in the morning.

The furry beast stands on its hind legs, roaring at me. I can't get away now. Showing my back would be death. That means I'm only left with one option, the thing I was trying to avoid the most.

I have to fight the bear.

Before I can even react, the bear takes two swipes at me with its giant paws. The bastard is faster than it looks.

The first swipe rakes against my shield. I was barely able to bring it up in time. The claws scrape against the metal, sending my already buzzing body into overdrive.

The second attack forces the shield out of my hands, hitting the side of it rather than the front. It's sent spinning in the early morning snow. I'm left defenseless, and I haven't even been able to draw my weapon yet.

Wait. Shit. What weapon?

I pat down my waist, looking for the knife I usually kept on my. I left it by my pack when I rushed out. Stupid mistake. And it looks like it's going to cost me my life.

The bear brings its claws on me again, roaring while doing so. It seems to know it has won, so it takes its time to play with me. I bring up my arms to protect my head, but it does little as I'm sent flying into a tree.

Air leaves my lungs. I can't breathe. My spine is shattered, I'm sure of it. This is how I die, being eaten alive by a bear.

My blood is scarlet against the snow, assaulting my eyes and seemingly exciting the bear. It draws closer, ready to finish its macabre job to end my pitiful existence.

My life starts replaying in my mind. Memories of my parents, my village, the festivals we had. I was happy. I could have lived my entire life in my clan. I never wanted glory or adventure. I just wanted to start a family.

My body remembers to breathe. I inhale so rapidly that I almost choke on my tongue. The bear is still approaching. I get up shakily. My arms feel sore as they help me get up.

Hold on. Arms? They should've been torn off.

A quick examination nearly makes me scream. Bones have erupted around my forearms, protecting them from the brunt of the damage. They look like a set of ivory vambraces.

Shit. The bear.

I can examine my body later. I start concentrating on trying to find one. A rock, maybe, or a fallen branch. The bear isn't far off now, and it stands back up.

If only I had a sword.

Pain erupts from my hand, almost knocking me down again. A sword protrudes out of my hand, stopping at its hilt and allowing me to grasp it.

It's double-edged, but also serrated, ideal for slicing an enemy and causing them to bleed. It lacks any kind of guard, seemingly meant for pure offense. The most striking feature, however, is that it seems to be made purely of bone.

Before I can consider it, the bear is upon me. It swipes at my head, aiming to take it off. I'm just quick enough to duck underneath it, getting closer to the bear. It won't be able to deal as much damage if I'm closer to it.

The bear is only stunned momentarily, but that's all I need to get a hit in. The sword enters cleanly into the bear's stomach, causing havoc on its internal organs. I press down on the weapon to let the teeth bite into the flesh as I bring it out.

Blood follows the sword, steaming in the cold air. A bellow nearly bursts my eardrums as the bear roars in pain. It reels back, trying to make the distance between us. I hug its stinking fur, bringing my sword against its side and slicing.

The teeth are sharp on this thing. More blood stains the snow, leaving a pattern of red as we dance through the forest.

As we get closer to a tree, the bear brings its jaws down, trying to bite me. I bring my sword up at the same time, trying to reach its neck. I miss, instead shoving my sword into the bear's throat.

I see the ivory tip emerge from the other side of the bear's head, coated in pieces of skull and brain. My hand is fully inside its mouth at this point, and I'm not quick enough to take it out. The bear's jaws spasm, then close tightly. I scream in pain as my hand is being chewed off.

I try to pry open the bear's mouth before it bites through my bony vambraces. I'm able to wriggle my hand out when I throw myself onto my back, but not before my flesh is torn. It seems the armor has limits after all.

The bear corpse teeters a bit, swaying from side to side, before inevitably falling forward towards me. I roll away before it falls on me, yelping as I knock my injured hand against the ground.

Covered in blood, sweat, and bear guts, I breathe raggedly as I lie on the ground. The adrenaline starts to fade and all I feel is pain. The cold is almost a blessing, numbing some of my wounds.

I stagger to my feet after 15 minutes, being careful not to use my injured hand. I pull my sword out of the bear's mouth, pick up my discarded shield, and make my way back to camp.

I sit down in front of the fire, now cold, and examine the sword. It hasn't lost any of its edge, despite the fact I knew I misused it. Good. I'll need it for what I'm about to do next.

Biting down on a branch, I place my ruined hand in front of me. I bring my sword against the wrist. I need to cut it off. It won't heal here and I can't risk it becoming infected.

As I start to steel myself, the sword begins to shrink, absorbing back into my hand. As it does this, the flesh around my disfigured hands starts to knit back together, slowly healing it.

It's painful as all hell, and I wish I had cut it off instead, but after a few minutes, my hand is almost as good as new. It seems that most of the smaller injuries are still there, but the majority of the damage is gone.

I stare at my hand in wonder, flexing, testing, and making sure it's operable. I'm sore, but I'll survive.

My mind is swimming. How did this happen? Was it because of the disease? What did it do to my body?

My stomach interrupts my thoughts, and I realize I am ravenous. I start a fire and look at the bear.

An hour later, I've skinned the bear, roasted some of its meat, and propped its pelt over the embers, letting the fat and sinew burn away. It'll make a warm cloak as the months get colder.

The bear is tough and lacks flavor, but I don't care. I easily finish off enough food to feed at least three men. I throw the bones in a pile, deeming them to be useless since my body doesn't seem able to absorb them.

I sit back, finally satisfied. I've left the rest of the bear outside for the wolves to scavenge, keeping enough to bolster my meager provisions.

I think I can last about two weeks now, granted I get lucky with foraging.

Staring at the nubs on my forearms, I concentrate. The pearly vambraces appear again, erupting from the protrusions to protect my arms from danger. Can the rest of my body do the same?

I concentrate on my chest, trying to imagine a breastplate. Nothing happens. I try again for about an hour before giving up. It seems I can only do my arms for now. Still, better than nothing.

The sun rose about an hour ago, but it was blocked by another flood of clouds. It looks grey and gloomy, threatening to snow at a moment's notice. Packing up my camp, I start to plan my route mentally.

I'm about two days away from my destination, barring nothing going wrong. I wrap the bear pelt around me, having finished its cleaning. It's still warm from the fire and keeps out the cold fairly well.

It looks like I hugged a bear after all. I snort in derision and begin my journey. I notice that the wolves have dragged away the bear corpse, taking it somewhere they can enjoy in peace.

The snow has mostly melted, but I can still see my breath in the air. The night is going to be worse if I don't hurry. I already ran into the bear, so I don't want to risk freezing to death.

I steel myself and continue forward.