Day 5: Evening

Today we rode through a less populated area. It’s marshy and doesn’t make for good farming. The road is made of planks in many places and there are lots of birds even though it’s late in the year. Frogs and bugs too. There’s always a sort of buzzing sound in the background.

It’s the kind of place I can normally get along with—still, peaceful, but alive. We stopped for a break around midday. It was pretty warm for autumn so I sat in the shade and chomped on some flatbread.

Gunther went off “to the bogs”. Tallow was looking over the fletching on his arrows and Grens looked like he was asleep. I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye and glanced over to look. For a second I thought there was nothing there. Then I saw it again.

Behind some scrubby trees was a brown something-or-other. I squinted. It took long, cautious steps—almost seemed clumsy. When it moved into the light I figured it for a bear.

I held still and glanced at Grens and Tallow. They didn’t see anything. Then back at the bear. Sure enough, it was moving toward the brush where the trees thinned out, trying to go around our little resting place without getting noticed. Bears have this fierce reputation but they really don’t like to bother humans. It probably smelled the horses and came to investigate, then saw us and decided to clear off.

I just watched it and grinned. It’s so neat to see that stuff up close.

Then my sword and shield were in my hand. I must have covered some fifty feet in just a few seconds. I yelled and trampled toward that bear with my sword held high. I could feel that thing with me again.

I charged a bear. I ran right up to it as it slinked out from a tree and I shoved my sword into its side. I can’t forget the look it gave me. They say bears can’t talk but this one had a question for me. It was asking why.

And I want to know the same thing. First off, why a bear? We can’t use that much meat. Second, what kind of dumb S-O-Baatezu charges a wild animal? We have frickin’ arrows!

But the question that’s been haunting me is why this thing was so eager. I could feel this sort of maniacal glee at the idea of killing a bear. I mean, I didn’t feel it. I felt shock. But I could feel this other emotion like it was my own. Like two personalities inside me, one of them eager for blood.

I didn’t get to think about it for long. I made a good deep wound on that bear, enough to kill it but not right away. Big animals are like big trees: if you’re going to bring one down, you better get out of the way. This one was up on his hind legs faster than a spring wind. And he let me have it.

A punch? A slap? A swipe? I don’t know, but it woke me up. Right in the face, oof da. I had that nose bleed feeling and saw little stars and heard the bear roaring, and then fft! Something else attacked me. But it didn’t attack me, and it didn’t attack the bear, it just flew past us like we both weren’t there. A glance back at camp told me Tallow had shot an arrow, and now the real me hated him as much as the fake me hated the bear.

I opened my mouth to yell at him, but something else shot past me and hit the bear. I couldn’t see what it was but it hit him pretty hard. My body still wasn’t mine to control, and I started swinging again. I hadn’t caught my balance yet, and neither me nor the bear got a hit in on each other. Next thing I knew Gunther was there and his big sword was in the bear’s neck.

That was that. The bear fell, Gunther raised his arms and popped his back, letting out a roar of his own.

So I shouted and cheered like I was overjoyed at the kill, and took a few more swings at the carcass. Cut it up pretty bad. Disgusting. Then the thing left me and I was able to wipe off my sword, clean up my face wound and get some cold mud to pack on it for the swelling. I felt sick but I didn’t want the other guys to know so I held it in.

Gunther asked if I knew how to butcher and I cut off the backstraps (which we are now roasting on a spit). As we got ready to go Tallow started whining about how he didn’t even get a shot in. That’s about when I lost it. I actually yanked him out of his saddle with one hand and threw him on the ground. I’m kind of proud of that. I don’t remember the particulars of what I said, but I gave him a hollering like you wouldn’t believe. He could’ve killed me, and I was pissed.

Well, Tallow actually seemed to get serious, which is probably the only thing kept me from beating him. He had his hands up over his face and he yelled, “I don’t know why I did it, alright? I don’t know!”

That froze me. He didn’t say it as an excuse—he said it like he was scared of it. He doesn’t know. Like how I don’t know why I'd attack a wild animal with a sword. Gods.

So I let Tallow go. He has his tail down, we have fresh bear meat and another night in the bush (out of the marsh now anyway). The sweet taste of resolution. Like a mouthful of blood and a few loose teeth. Sweet goddamn resolution, indeed.