Falling With Style

Kolt paused at the edge of the fjord, his blue eyes scanning the steep rocky walls that plunged down to the dark waters below. The young brute's cream and chestnut fur ruffled in the cool autumn breeze. He could smell the earthy scent of the forest behind him mingling with the salty spray rising up from the crashing waves. Carefully, he picked his way down the cliffside, his claws finding purchase in the crevices between the stones. Loose pebbles skittered down the rock face as he moved, clattering into the churning water.

Halfway down the treacherous slope, Kolt froze. A low growl echoed off the fjord walls, barely audible over the crashing waves. His ears swiveled, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. There - on a narrow ledge jutting out from the cliff face. A massive brown bear regarded Kolt with gleaming black eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, but he fought the urge to flee back up the rocks. But something kept him frozen in place. The bear's thick fur rippled as it shifted its weight, powerful muscles bunching beneath its shaggy coat. It let out another rumbling growl, lips curling back to reveal yellowed fangs.

Kolt's mind raced, trying to recall everything he had learned about bears. Make yourself look big. Don't run. Come on, Kolt, think straight. But the lessons seemed flimsy in the face of the massive predator before him. He fought to keep his breathing steady, his body tense and ready to spring into action. The bear took a step forward, its claws scraping against the stone. Kolt's instincts screamed at him to run, but he held his ground. He raised his head high, meeting the bear's gaze directly. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the crashing of the waves and the whistle of the wind through the fjord.

But then suddenly, it charged. Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! The bear lunged forward, its massive paws pounding against the rock as it barreled towards Kolt. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he sprang into action, his limbs propelling him down the cliffside with a speed he didn't know he possessed. Rocks skittered beneath his paws as he half-ran, half-skidded down the incline. What was he going to do when he got there? He didn’t know. But it just seemed like it was the kind of thing to take initiative on. Gods, what was the plan?

"Kolt Carpathius"