It was a fairly warm day in the forest. The trees rustled in the slight wind that was creating a nice soft breeze for all the inhabitants of this dense space of living. This was one of those somewhat rare days in which the sun would come up and spread some warmth through the tall thick of the trees, warming up those who lived in this vast habitat. And one of those individuals was Bryan.

Bryan had lived in the forest for pretty much his entire life so far. His parents had raised him here, he had learnt how to hunt, how to fish, how to swim, how to behave, all the things that came with growing up. Despite the forest being somewhat dreary and a bit of a dull place to live, he didn’t mind it, because it was home, and that’s what really mattered after all.

The only thing that wasn’t the greatest about living in the forest was the somewhat intense fluctuations in the weather. Sometimes it was nice and warm, but at others, in particular in the winter, it was just really cold. In fact, some days it was beyond freezing. It was tough when it was cold, because it was quite difficult to maintain any warmth, most of which was dispelled by the biting winds, and the frosty chill of the night. That was the other thing. It was at night when the forest was at its worst. It was comparable to living in ice, and you’d do anything you could to conserve any shred of heat that was left, to let that heat, that feeling of warmth, spread over yourself so that you could protect yourself from the bone-chilling cold that spread out, possessing the pitch black that surrounded the dense woodlands in their deepest, darkest hours. But realistically, Bryan had no issue with it.

Bryan enjoyed his life. He loved going swimming, particularly on the more heat intensive days of the year, although he wouldn’t stray from a good swim even on some of the more frigid days in the forest. He loved fishing in the rivers that ran through the woods, and the Great Lake that covered a large portion of the centre of the dense thickets. Bryan was particularly jovial when he caught a fish or maybe even a few. He would be particularly pleased with his catches, even the smallest ones, consuming anything he caught.

Hunting was, however, what Bryan enjoyed most about his life. He loved hunting. There was something about the thrill of searching and chasing that made life so much more enjoyable. Wandering through his own homeland, his own neck of the woods per say, scavenging for something to kill and eat. It could be a deer, or a moose. Sometimes he would be quiet and sneak up on his prey, others he would go all guns blazing chasing after it to kill it. Although stealth was often favoured over brazen charging. But his parents, particularly his father, had taught him well, and he had killed many a deer in his time. He really did enjoy venison. It was one of the finest meats in his opinion. It was always a special treat for Bryan when he managed to successfully hunt and kill a deer, and he really did enjoy the meal he had shortly afterwards. But on from that.

This particular day, Bryan had been walking through the woods, his homeland, when he picked up a strange sound in the distance. He was currently on a hunt, and thought it may be a stray deer wandering through the forest. It would make his day if he could track it and successfully locate and kill it. He decided to be stealthy, and tread carefully through the thickets so as to not scare off this potential catch. He needed to be cautious that the deer, if it even was a deer, did not hear him coming and run away before he reached it. It would be a terrible shame if he was to lose out to a special meal of venison tonight. He thoroughly enjoyed it when the meat reached his mouth, and it really satisfied his hunger come meal time. So it would be a very special day if he could succeed in this mission now.

Continuing on his way, tracking his hunt through the woods, Bryan finally came to somewhat of a clearing, where he sighted a deer standing rigid directly across from his own position. He made sure to tread very carefully now, making sure not to alert the deer to his presence. He was hidden just behind a few bushes, so he was out of sight, invisible to the deer that was grazing in the forest green across the way. He was so close now, so close to a successful hunt. He made a decision, and began to move slowly and quietly, edging silently through the trees and the bushes, on his way to achieving yet another kill, and bringing home with him a delectable meal. He was now in prime position, in a bush just behind where the deer was. He could see it clearly now, with its head down in the lush green grass of the forest. This was when Bryan was in his element, heart racing, adrenaline pumping around his body, the thrill of the hunt taking him over, possessing him. He was filled with excitement at this moment, ready to make the kill. But then, almost out of nowhere, he heard a loud bang, his head jerking around to try to detect where it came from. Unable to ascertain its location, Bryan returned his vision to the deer to find it lying on the soft grass, bright red blood trickling from its side into the blades of grass it had fallen onto. Bryan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hunt had been plucked from his own hands just as he had been about to take his opportunity. He had now lost that, the deer lying dead with a bullet in its side, and so he decided to wait until the bullet’s owner came forward before he made any sudden move, lest he take a bullet himself attempting to take the deer before its killer arrived.

He stayed hidden in the bushes, and saw someone appear in the distance, coming forward to claim their kill, to take the deer away, probably to have a spectacular meal of venison themselves. He watched and waited, saw the killer getting closer, rifle slung over his shoulder, the gun now behind him, resting on his back. Bryan took a moment to consider who this man was, why he was here. He now turned his attention back to the man, saw he was now standing over the deer. He had pulled some ropes out of a bag he had been carrying with him, ready to tie the deer up so he could drag it along with him better. As he bent and began threading and tying the ropes, Bryan decided to take his opportunity to take this meal from the unidentified man. So Bryan walked out of the bushes he had been hiding in for the last few minutes, and made his way over to the deer and the man. The man noticed him coming and a look of deep, immense fear presented itself on his face. He dropped the ropes and began to fumble for his hunting rifle, but Bryan was already close, close enough to at least swat the hunting rifle far away from him. Bryan took a moment to look the man up and down, considering what he was about to do. But this was for a meal of succulent venison, and he wasn’t about to allow this man to pry his food away from him. So Bryan, being unrelenting in his nature, and doing what his father had taught him to do in these situations, pounced onto the man and began attacking him, leaving him lying lifeless on the soft, dewy emerald grass. Then he turned and grabbed the deer, dragging it away with him out of the clearing and all the way back to his neck of the woods. Why, you may ask? Because Bryan wasn’t an innocent human being. Bryan was a bear, and that’s what bears do.