Mountain Bear
Mammal
Dwells in the mountain ranges of Kelaria and Rilanon. The mountain bear is best known for two things: its ability to climb sheer surfaces, and its incredible sense of smell. With almost double the number of scent receptors as the average dog, the mountain bear’s olfactory capabilities allow it to detect food even through several meters of ice or water, and they have even been known to target prey up to 20 leagues distant.
The mountain bear typically spends 3-4 months of every year in hibernation. The rest of its time is spent hunting, mating, rearing cubs, and dismembering anything foolish enough to wander into its territory.
It towered over my avatar. Sir Fura squeaked in terror, and Ris’kin and I both barely swallowed a similar noise ourselves. The bear was as tall at the shoulder as Coll, and must have weighed more than thirty dire badgers put together.
The bear’s warning growl reverberated around the cave. I felt it as well as heard it, a deep vibration in Ris’kin’s very bones that triggered the most primal of instincts in both of us.
Run, you idiots! they screamed.
The mountain bear’s roar seemed to shake the very ground as we fled the cave. The bear thundered in pursuit.
We had a moment’s indecision when we emerged back out onto the mountainside, but it was obvious the only way was up. The bear would easily chase us down if we descended; our only hope of surviving this chase was to outrun it, and our only hope of outrunning it was to out-nimble it.
We leapt for a nearby outcropping, hauling ourselves up and pausing just long enough to get our balance before reaching for the next. The bear skidded to a stop on the ‘porch’ and sniffed the air, then turned its head toward us and roared again. Pebbles pattered down from above, stinging Ris’kin’s face and making Sir Fura squeak and clutch her shoulder tighter.
Angry we out-climbed you? I thought with some satisfaction. Don’t worry, Mr. Bear, there’s always next time—
The bear launched itself at the rocks below us. Its plate-sized paws and knife-like claws didn’t need to find holds for purchase; they made their own, puncturing the steep rock face as easily as an awl into leather. It began to climb.
Oh. Oh, no.
Ris’kin needed no urging. She kept moving up the mountainside with all the agility she could muster. Her muscles began to burn but still she kept putting hand in front of hand, climbing up by the trickiest paths in the hope that they would slow the bear down, or perhaps make it give up the chase altogether. It didn’t.
Worst of all, it was gaining on us. Every path we took, no matter how difficult or how much dexterousness it required, the bear simply thundered up with brute force. I’d never seen anything like it. Its claws not only penetrated the very rock, they also held the bear’s incredible weight as it climbed the ever more precarious terrain, marching up near-vertical surfaces with no more difficulty than a spider might.
How are we going to lose it?
There was no way we’d survive if it caught up to us. I could almost feel its hot breath on the back of our heels. Panic and adrenaline surged through Ris’kin she gave in to her flight instincts and continued her panicked climb nimbly yet mindlessly.
A bit of rock gave way and we were forced to leap to the side and catch another one. The bear continued the same path—blindly following rather than seeking its own path. That was probably the only reason it hadn’t caught us sooner.
Mindlessly…
Something clicked into place. My racing mind slowed enough to formulate the barest bones of a plan.
Up there, I told Ris’kin. A few meters above us was an outcropping that jutted out from the mountain to form a ledge for those above it, and a near insurmountable obstacle for those below.
My avatar stared up at the outcropping doubtfully. Then the bear roared again. This time I could definitely feel its hot breath right below our feet.
Ris’kin surged into action, drawing on reserves of strength cultivated and enhanced by weeks of forced marching. Sir Fura chattered encouragement into her ear, the squirrel’s tiny claws prickling her shoulder as he clung on for dear life. When she reached the outcropping, brave Ris’kin did not hesitate. She reached first for one handhold, then another. I’d half expected her to let go with her toes, legs dangling above the drop below as she monkey-barred her way along. Instead, she simply sought footholds in the rock and continued to climb as she had been.
I knew if she were to glance over her shoulder, we’d see the dizzying drop below as we clung to the outcropping’s underside like a strange rust-colored spider. Thankfully she remained focused on where we were going, rather than where we might end up. Carefully, she moved her hands and feet as though climbing a regular wall, though her entire body trembled and her fingertips burned with the weight of keeping us anchored. I couldn’t help but remember the last time we’d been in such a situation—the mole-rat fight, so long ago now. How far we’d come since then.
And it will all be for nothing if we fall here.
The thought of our task pushed us both on, and soon enough we were hauling ourselves shakily up over the outcropping’s edge. We rolled onto the ledge, allowing a few seconds to catch our breath.
The bear intended to allow no such thing.
Heavy growling and snorting announced its presence just below. It had somehow followed us even here. But we were ready for it. Though Ris’kin’s limbs were still trembling, she pushed herself up onto all fours, raising her tail expectantly and baring her teeth in what I knew to be a wicked grin.
One of the bear’s massive paws thudded into view, claws scraping against the rock and then digging in with a crunch.
Wait for it…
A second paw appeared.
Wait for it…
The instant the bear’s face
