Chapter 7 #4
“There’s a damn bear in here, Chesteria; not a squirrel or some stray dog from the block!” he continued ranting, in a hushed tone.
I cocked my head to the side, unable to suppress my sarcasm.
“Nooo… really? I thought it was a black Santa with alopecia. And the way you just screamed, I’m almost afraid you’re scared of a squirrel and dog, too. And now, thanks to your full-volume Broadway audition, the bear probably knows that we’re in here! Hell, he probably paused to laugh.”
Bears don’t just break into cabins for fun.
I knew that. I wasn’t some clueless damsel who’d never seen a wildlife documentary.
I’d been binged-watching Animal Planet since back when it still had that rainforest sound between commercials, I kept National Geographic in my “Watch Again” list, and I’d seen enough “When Animals Snap” specials on YouTube to have honorary park ranger status.
They don’t come for people; they come for food.
Not like… gourmet meals or steak tartare; I mean, literal trash.
Chips? Unwrapped candy? A crusty McChicken left in a cupholder over a week?
Bears can smell that.
Leftover pizza? Game over. A sticky Capri Sun straw under the couch? You might as well roll out the welcome mat.
They don’t want to hurt anybody… unless a person gets in their way.
That’s where people mess up. They panic, they scream—like Adrian—and they throw things.
All a person has to do is mind their business and give them space.
Most will just raid your fridge like broke cousins and leave without saying goodbye.
So yeah, seeing one in the cabin was terrifying, but I knew the rules.
Stay quiet… stay calm… and most importantly, don’t die trying to protect the granola bars.
Besides, any minute now, Bryce was bound to come hauling ass down those stairs, due to Adrian’s high-pitched panic howl.
And once he realized what was going on, I knew he’d take over.
Bryce lives for this kind of chaos. It’s borderline disturbing how fast he can shift into protector mode—gun, flashlight, commands, the whole action-hero starter kit.
Me? I just need to buy some time and not become an appetizer before my adrenaline-junkie ex shows up like he’s in an episode of Bear vs. Bryce: Cabin Edition.
“We gonna die,” Adrian whimpered.
“So you thinketh... and now death gon’ thinketh too.
You definitely might die tonight with that mindset…
but I’m not. You gotta watch your words, Adrian.
Speak life. Lord, cover me, ‘cause his mouth don’t know better.
I rebuke every word he just uttered. Amen.
But Adrian, if you must know… that bear isn’t here for us.
He ain’t breaking in talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Ooh, let me eat some humans today.’ He smelled food… probably them damn garlic knots you didn’t seal up last night. ”
“You think he smelled garlic knots through a wall?!”
“Yes, Einstein. Wait, no. What’s the opposite of Einstein? You. But yes, bears have a sense of smell seven times better than a bloodhound… seven. If you so much as think about reheating wings, a bear two towns over might pull up with ranch.”
“Wait! Don’t bears supposed to be sleeping this time of year?”
I gave him a quick side-eye. “Well, look at you, National Geographic. But yes and no. You ever met a hungry man in the middle of a nap? Same thing. If they don’t eat enough before hibernation, they wake up broke, irritable, curious, and starving.
Congratulations—you just disturbed a hangry bear, in desperate need of a snack and a stimulus check. ”
Adrian blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback. “How do you even know so much about bears? You’re a psychology professor, not… not some wild cousin of Steve Irwin!”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“And yet here you are, nervous and reliant on me for guidance. But to answer your little question, it’s because I read, Adrian.
Unlike you, I don’t scroll past every animal survival post and think, ‘That doesn’t apply to me.
’ Well, guess what? Tonight? It absolutely does. ”
The bear grumbled softly and nosed the coffee table with its powerful snout, poking at the scented candle as if confused why the warm donut smell wasn’t edible—definitely not what it was seeking.
“See? He’s not interested in us. He’s hungry, not homicidal.”
“But what if he gets bored with snacks and wants some dark meat?!” Adrian murmured, his voice barely above a panicked squeak.
“Adrian, chill out. If he wanted dark meat, I’d be first on his menu.
Trust me, that bear came looking for flavor.
I take care of myself. I moisturize, and I consume my vitamins.
Just call me the premium cut of meat. You, on the other hand?
You’re seasoned with marijuana and stress.
That bear would sniff you and walk clean past like, ‘Mmm… not fresh. He smells like anxiety and regret.’”
Right on cue, the bear pawed at the candle again, letting out a low, tired snort, as if even he was fed up with the unfolding drama.
“See?” I pointed firmly. “He agrees. You’re safe. Now hush and follow my lead before you add panic to the menu.”
Adrian and I started backing up like we were rewinding a bad decision.
I lowered the gun and stretched my arm out.
“Slow. Slow. Bears may have poor eyesight, but their sense of smell and hearing are top-notch. So all that screaming like you just caught your mama filming an OnlyFans video? Definitely not the move.”
Adrian trembled like loose change rattling in a washing machine. “How the hell did it get in?!”
I took a moment, turning my head with exaggerated slowness to gather my thoughts.
“Apparently, somebody left the door unlocked.”
He blinked at me, jaw slack.
“And for your sake?” I added with a mocking laugh, savoring the suspense. “You better pray it wasn’t you.”
Right then, I remembered that Bryce had told me to call him if I needed anything, so I took advantage of that offer in that moment.
I snatched my phone and hit call, praying he’d pick up.
But surely there was no way he didn’t hear Adrian’s scream echo through the cabin like he saw Sallie Mae and the Grim Reaper walk in together.