ears buzzed like a nest of angry bees. She struggled for breath and managed to get onto her hands and knees. She could hear Lilyâs high-pitched whinny and the pounding of hooves as her horse ran away, but when she tried to lift her head, the world spun black. She instantly dropped it down again.
Something had caused Lily to spook. The horse sounded terrified. Karaâs only conscious thought was to find out why. She drew in three slow, deep breaths, then carefully lifted her head. Her vision cleared, but one glance at the tree line in front of her and she froze. Fear shot like lightning bolts through her stomach and chest. For an instant she felt light-headed again. She fought down the nausea that welled up in her throat and tried to calm her pounding heart . Itâs just a cub. A cute, fuzzy, little, black bear cub . But cubs almost always have a mother close by, and that was not good news .
Think! She had to keep a clear head. She knew what to do. She and Colin had gone over it several times when they had taught a survival class at the high school last fall. If only her woozy brain would cooperate.
Slowly and carefully, she got to her feet and stood still until another wave of dizziness passed. Then she began to back away, keeping her eyes on the cub. It mewled and stared back at her with curious, dark brown eyes.
A deep-throated growl stopped Kara in her tracks. Donât run! âOh, God, keep me calm. Please!â she cried out loud, then made herself turn toward the cubâs angry mother. The sow wasnât very big, but Kara knew that size didnât matter to a mama bear defending her cub. Neither did size make the claws or teeth any less lethal.
The bear was about twenty feet away. It stood on two legs, sniffing the air and watching as Kara moved slowly backwards. If she could put Mama Bear between herself and the cub, it might make her seem like less of a threat.
But Mama Bear wasnât buying it. She suddenly dropped to all fours and huffed furiously, taking three quick strides toward Kara. Then she stopped as if waiting for her prey to react.
Kara stood her ground. She straightened up, making herself look as tall as possible, and waved her arms, yelling at the top of her lungs. âGo away! Go on, scram! Get out of here!â
The bear stayed where it was, rose up on two legs, and swung her head toward her cub. The little bear bleated andscampered toward her, but a deep-throated warning sent it scurrying up a tree.
While the bear was distracted, Kara looked around frantically. She had to have a weapon. Something to protect herself if the bear really charged.
A few feet away, a small, flat tree stump marked the place where last spring she and Greg and Dad had built a fire ring. Kara felt a surge of hope. She had gathered most of the rocks herself, and if she remembered right, they were big enough to pack quite a wallop.
The bear swung back toward her, shaking its head and clawing up clumps of earth. âHelp me, God!â Kara cried as she lunged toward the tree stump, scooped up a rock, and threw it as hard as she could. It landed just short of the snarling animal. Yelling, screaming, and jumping up and down, she snatched up another rock, took aim, and threw. Missed again!
But the enraged bear took a step backwards, and Kara knew she couldnât let up. A picture flashed through her mind of her father and grandfather watching TV. Baseball. Think baseball . Sheâd been a good pitcher in the Kidsâ Sports league.
This time she forced herself to pause and take aim. She couldnât believe the bear still hadnât charged. She could feel the sweat beading up on her forehead, and her hands felt like theyâd been greased with cooking oil. She went into her windup stance, then let loose with everything she had.
A screamer! The ball-sized rock split the air like a knife and plunged into the bearâs belly with a resounding thwack. The animal froze, then went down.
Learning to Kill: Stories