William

“Dee!” William shouted. He bolted across the clearing, his boots leaving deep tracks in the snow. He could hear twigs and branches breaking in the distance as the bear crashed its way through the underbrush. There weren’t any screams. Why weren’t there any screams? A horrible feeling twisted in his stomach as he raised his oil lamp high and caught a glimpse of the dark spots of liquid left at the site of the struggle. It had all happened so fast! The snow was churned up with dirt and leaf-litter, but there was a clear trail going into the treeline. His heart thumped in his chest and he pulled his arming sword from its leather scabbard. The blade glinted in the warm light cast off his lantern.

“William, no!” called one of the other doctors. William thought his name was Edgar, but he couldn’t be certain of his identity in the dark. Regardless, the other man raced toward him. “He’s certainly already dead! We have to go!”

“No!” William growled. His sword didn’t waver. Before Edgar could reach him, he sprinted into the trees.

“William!” Edgar yelled after him. “You can’t fight a bear with a sword!”