What An Ugly Rug

Well, Artur had hoped that he'd go down in a blaze of glory. He hadn't expected it to be so soon, or for it to be 'crushed to death by greasy foul smelling bear' but one didn't really get to chose one's time to go. He felt his bones creak (his spine clicked into place with a rather satisfying pop, actually, it was nice) and the edges of his vision going black, stars dancing in his head... And then the sow was roaring right in his fucking ears, which he laid back in affront (and disgust, for her breath reeked like rotten fish) at the horrendous noise that compounded the misery of his ignoble death.

And then suddenly the steel-trap arms around him were gone, and he sucked in a breath greedily, wobbling to his feet and staggering slightly. Somehow the female half of the dynamic duo had lured the bear off, giving him and the squashed male counterpart a chance to escape. A chance he wasn't passing up, hypoxia or no hypoxia. He staggered forward, clumsily attempting to jerk the other male along with his jaws in his scruff even as his oxygen-starved brain told his paws to start running. They could regroup with the heroine of the hour later and make sure she'd survived, but they needed to get out of the area before Mama Bear came back for her cub.