Bearclaw Valley eight seconds

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Gore, character death.

Things were good, Evien had decided. He'd been handling his leadership role well, he was active within the pack, and he'd made multiple friends here. Ursus was undeniably where his loyalty lay, and where he'd live out the rest of his life - if they all stuck together and didn't make the mistake of splitting up. He knew Astara had gone, looking for her lost child (who was not so lost anymore - he should know, because she’d been recovering in his den,) but there were still enough of them here that they were all safe and fed, even in the winter. 

They were prosperous, really, if Evien could pick a word. Sure, things weren't perfect, but there hadn't been outright war in a while - a fact he was grateful for, because no one wanted to deal with injury during the frozen winter months. Least of all the healers who would have to deal with that shit. 

Evien had really found himself here. He'd initially come because of Fields, who, if he were being honest, he was still smitten by. He'd stayed because of @Merrick's charm and @Astara's unwavering ferocity. To think that they trusted him enough to let him help lead here was incredible, to him - he'd never thought that he'd make such deep connections. He also hadn't expected to fall for them, but... well... that had certainly happened. Not that he'd ever tell the two of them that - it was dangerous, really. One - or both - of them might get too possessive of the other, and he didn't want to break the trust that they'd offered him. 

Still, maybe one day... one day they'd figure it out. 

It was a cold day, with light snow falling from the sky. Evien's bad leg was throbbing and stiff, and he'd settled himself down for a day of re-organizing his herbs. They had a decent stock - not perfect, by any means, but not bad either. Enough, if nobody picked any unnecessary battles. 

There had been a bit of molding in some of the chamomile - not all, thank god, but enough that Evien wanted to deep clean it. He'd gathered all of the leaves that the fuzzy white fungus had rooted in and had taken it outside. Far enough away from the den that there would be no chance of it coming back. 

His paws crunched unevenly on the snow covered ground, light and soft. It was so peaceful that, for a moment, Evien rather lost himself in it. And maybe if he hadn't paused, if it hadn't been so cold, if his leg hadn't been so stiff, the next eight seconds would have gone much differently. 

One. His pawsteps weren't the only set crunching down on the snow anymore. Heavier footfalls approached him from the side. 

Two. A foul stench filled his nostrils - musky and rancid. Familiar - really, it was surprising he hadn't encountered more of them. It was Bearclaw Valley, after all. 

Three. Evien turned, not thinking, and made eye contact with a large grizzly sow. She was about ten meters away.

Four. There was a brief moment where he registered that she had cubs - larger, now, because this would mark the end of their first year with their mother. They hung back, unsure. 

Five. Evien's brain actually decided to work and he turned back, intending to run to the medicine den. The entrance was too small for the bear to enter - he'd be safer, there. At least until someone else from his pack could come and help him. Merrick probably wouldn't hurt a bear, but maybe they could outsmart it together. 

Six. The bear's heavy steps sped up behind him.

Seven. It quickly became apparent that he was not going to outrun the bear. He'd reached the entrance to the den, but she was right on him. In a panic, Evien turned back around. Maybe he could get her to back up, just a bit, just enough for him to get to safety. 

Eight. She reared. Raised her right forepaw. 

And swung. 

The bear hadn't been looking for food. Perhaps it had been that Evien had gotten too near her twin cubs. Perhaps their paths had crossed at just the wrong moment. Perhaps there was no real reason at all. But a seventy-pound wolf was no match for a three-hundred pound bear, and one swing was more than enough. Blood sprayed from the place where her paw had connected with his head, painting the front of the medicine den in a deep crimson. 

Evien's body lay just outside the den, on its side. The snow was red underneath. His head rested about two meters to the left, where it had rolled a bit down the hill. 

A set of large bear prints would slowly become lost in the snow.

Open to Ursus members who want to post <3 I love you guys. Thank you for letting me and Evien be part of this.