11
Brock
I watched the hairy f*****g beast on the ridge above my cabin through my binoculars for a few days, his slow descent looking for s**t to eat after waking from hibernation bringing him too damn close to my home for comfort. While out hunting small game, my nerves sat raw, my senses alert. Every snap of a twig not caused by my own feet sent a shot of adrenaline through my blood.
But not the type I usually enjoyed.
I’d hoped being forced to live in somewhat close proximity to grizzly bears would help me conquer my discomfort of being around the only animal to stand my neck hairs on end.
No such f*****g luck.
I kept my pistol and knife on my hips and a rifle slung over my shoulder whenever I explored beyond my clearing. For six weeks, I hadn’t run across more than a handful of m
