37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7y79LBWlZVThe forest opens into a narrow overlook — a ledge of stone and wet ferns —the three men drop below it, crouching behind a fallen cedar. The air is cool and sharp this high up, carrying the scent of pine sap and cold rock.
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Below them, in a quiet meadow carved into the mountainside, a family of does and bucks grazes in the soft morning light. Their ears twitch. Their tails flick. Their hooves sink into moss so thick it muffles every sound.
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Gregory lifts his hand, signaling stillness. Paul and Cornelius crouch beside him, bows ready, breaths held. The forest is so quiet they can hear the deer chewing.
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Gregory:(above a whisper)
“I can push them closer to the ridge. Come in from your side slowly. They’ll drift right toward you.”
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Paul nods, eyes locked on the herd.
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Paul:
“Good. We take the big buck first. Clean. Quick.”
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Cornelius shifts, trying to keep his knees from sinking deeper into the wet moss. The creak of branches sway overhead.
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They push foward.
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SMALL OPEN MOUNTAIN TRAIL
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An hour passes and Cornelius gets restless — dangerously restless. He is back where they started, near the horses.
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He rummages through Paul’s satchel attached to Stone, finding a pouch labeled with a symbol he doesn’t understand.
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Predator bait.
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He assumes it’s herbivore bait, or maybe a old snack. He walks up the trail, humming, and sets it down. He crushes the fish and berries together, releasing a thick, potent, oily smell that rolls through the forest like a wave.
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Back at the watch post, Paul stiffens.
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He sniffs the air eyes widening.
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Paul:
“Idiot.”
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He storms toward Cornelius. Hopping over the rocky ledge and stomping towards his opened bait bag.
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Paul:
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing. Did I give you permission to go through my bag?"
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Cornelius looks up, chewing berries, confused. He glances at the bait.
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Cornelius:
“Sorry… it reeked. I thought it was trash.”
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A sound rips through the mountain. A roar so deep the ground vibrates.
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Both men snap their heads toward the cliff.
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A standing brown grizzly about 10 feet tall— furry, massive, scarred and furious — it charges down the slope, casting a thunderous sound as it's paws gallop into the earth, grass exploding. It's six feet tall on all fours running.
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A thousand pounds of muscle and rage rush the men.
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Cornelius:(eyes wide, mouth open)
“Good heavens!”
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The Grizzly swipes him aside like a rag doll.
Cornelius flies, hits the ground, tumbles through grass and dirt.
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Paul is only a few paces away.
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He backs up slowly, hands raised.
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Paul:(trembling)
“Easy…”
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The grizzly rises to full height, towering over him, roaring with its jaw to the sky. Arms and paws outward.
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Cornelius crawls toward Paul, dazed.
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Paul draws his axes.
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The bear charges. It swings a massive arm —
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CRACK —clotheslining Paul so hard he flips backward and slams into the dirt.
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He rolls onto his back, gasping, terrified.
The bear charges again. Paul throws an axe —
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THUNK —it buries into the bear’s skull. The grizzly roars, enraged, it's jaw snaps down on Pauls torso, puncturing and dragging him across the ground, teeth and claws ripping into him. Blood sprays across the dirt, his head dangles helplessly and violently. The Grizzly lifts its head to roar again—Paul, shaking, bleeding, takes his last axe and drags it across the bear’s chest, opening a deep wound.
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Paul:
“AARRGGHH!”
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Cornelius:
“PAUL!!!”
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Cornelius, barely standing, throws the one‑shot pistol in slow motion—
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—Paul catches it perfectly with his right hand, while on his back, bleeding out. He squares the barrel at the bear’s gaping jaws. Pulls the trigger.
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POWWWW!!!
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The bear’s skull bursts backwards, its massive carcass collapsing beside Paul, shaking the earth.
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Paul gasps, hyperventilating.
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He drops the one shot, trying to free his leg from under the beast.
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MOMENTS LATER—
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Gregory returns carrying a full buck over his shoulder. He drops it instantly, sprinting over to Paul.
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Cornelius clutches his own wound, limping over.
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Together they heave the bear’s carcass off Paul.
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Paul lies there, chest rising and falling, open wounds that can be seen in his chest and stomach through a ripped flannel.
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His face is blackened with blood and dirt.
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Cornelius stands over him, hands on hips, smiling with that ridiculous white‑toothed charm.
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Cornelius:
“Well… looks like dinner’s served.”
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Paul rolls his eyes and looks away, too exhausted to respond.
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and then Add to home screen.