Chapter 3. Bear. Survival

The snow had stopped falling. I awoke realizing that I must have slept for hours as I opened my eyes to the starkness and beauty of the winter landscape. I winced as pain stabbed through my entire body. The tiniest of movement was like a million knives of shooting pain.

How was I still alive?

I lifted my head and painfully butted the fallen trunk of a tree, I had somehow managed to drag myself under it before I passed out, that and the thick hides surrounding my body had kept me warm enough to live. Using the snow, I cleansed as much blood from my body, wrapping myself in the life saving furs.

It made no sense going back to the campsite, they would have thought me dead by now and returned home. So I began the pain riddled journey of getting home before the cold, loss of blood and exhaustion took my life.

Finding a stream, I drank greedily and laid down to rest. I awoke to find myself by a campfire, a man sat nearby chanting in a strange language, he was dressed in Inuit attire. He brought me food and drink, we each spoke different languages, but the intent was clear. He had rescued me and probably saved my life. I stayed with him for three days, getting some strength back, then thanked him and continued on.

Two days of walking found me at the fort. The group was there.

My son was not among them!