The bear was only a few feet away. It was exactly as Brett remembered it--claws curled inwards, almost like it was trying to clench its fists--uh, or paws, whatever bears have. Its maw yawned wide, and its black tongue licked its yellow teeth. Something thick and black, like tar, dripped from the incisors.

Brett knew what it was, though it was crazy to describe.

The bear reserved its terror for children, tore at their clothes and flesh until they cried and screamed. That was what the bear wanted. The fear that seeped out of their pores, putrid, but it must have smelled sweet to the bear because it lapped up the emotion like honey. 

That was what it wanted from Brett. 

Fear, resignation, pain, whatever dark that was swirling at the bottom of his heart. Brett wanted to be courageous, face this beast that had stalked him since he was young. But the panic rose up in his throat like the bile he'd just spewed. He couldn't contain it. He knew what was going to happen next all too well. 

He swore the bear smiled at him. 

It knew that he knew what was in store, and that made the encounter all the more delicious. It raised a single razor-sharp nail and stroked Brett's cheek from apple to the corner of his mouth. Softly at first, so Brett could only feel the point. He pressed his lips together hard, but to no avail. The bear wiggled the nail just inside his mouth and tapped it on his teeth. 

Brett's muscles were rigid. He was too scared to even tremble. 

It was almost a tender moment between the two, them seeing each other, a mutual understanding before the violence. 

And then the bear tore through Brett's cheek, ripping it upward until only a flap hung loose from the side of his face. He did the same thing to the other side, leaving Brett with a joker-like grin baring all his teeth. 

Brett opened his jaw to scream then. This was just the beginning, he knew. And he couldn't stand knowing what was to come. The bear let its head fall back and cried along with Brett, mimicking his tone. Brett couldn't stand it, the mirroring. He felt ashamed for showing his pain for the bear to mock. He was so weak.

The tone of the bear's roar changed then. It went from whining to rage. It spun around, away from Brett, who was crying into his hands. Brett couldn't see what had caused the sudden change in direction, but then he remembered that Lauren was standing on the other side. He had to do something to get the bear's attention. 

He screwed up his courage and spoke, in agony. "Wait, we're not done yet. I have some left." He wasn't sure what he meant, exactly--just that the bear wanted something from him, he knew it, and it wouldn't be happy until he was empty of whatever it was. Life, hope, something.

The bear slowly turned back toward Brett, curious. It looked him up and down, seemingly wondering what it was that Brett was offering. Brett wasn't sure it was going to work because the only thing he knew about the bear was that it liked taking, not being given something. But perhaps Brett still had something of value. The trick was figuring out what. He moved his hands to his breast, above his heart, and the bear sniggered. He shook his head and raised his fingers to massage his own scalp. His brain. The bear broke up in laughter at that and pounded the ground with his fist, the bear's version of slapping his knee in hilarity.

Then it dawned on Brett. The bear thrived off negative emotion. In order to keep the bear's interest, Brett would have to cause himself pain. He raised his hands to his face, slowly, and inserted his fingers into the dripping wound. He dragged the sides of his cheeks up in a macabre smile. The bear's red eyes widened. Brett thought he saw an expression of glee cross the bear's face. He pulled upward and upward until he could stand it no longer. He was about to pass out from the pain. The bear's grin turned ecstatic. 

When Brett was sure he was going to black out, something about the bear changed. Its expression was confused. Brett could not figure out what was happening. The bear took a step toward him, and then another. They were not purposeful movements. It was staggering. There was something wrong with the bear. It swayed and let out a mournful sound. Finally, the bear fell on top of him, knocking him backward onto the ground. The pain was excruciating, the weight of the thing nearly crushing him. He wrapped his arms around the animal, and his fingers closed around something cold and hard protruding from the bear's back. The beast let out one final groan and then dropped its head onto Brett's shoulder. It was dead.

Brett peered upward and saw a terrified face staring back at him. It was Lauren. Whatever she'd done, she'd saved him from the bear. 

His face was on fire, but he managed to put all of his strength into rolling the bear off of him. What he saw astonished him. Sticking out of the bear's back was a long, silver blade. Black liquid oozed from the fatal wound. Where Lauren had found the knife, Brett had no idea, but she had saved his life.