Emmet stood his ground as the shadow charged at him, more out of pure panic than any sense of bravery. As the shadow shape charged closer, he began to make out the details. It was a mangy beast, a stray hound that had chewed off patches of its own fur, with white drool leaking from its mouth like a river. It stopped just inches away from Emmet, growling furiously as it’s face contorted, rearing up and getting ready to sink its teeth into him.

Emmet’s heart pounded wildly, he raised his hands in a meager attempt to defend himself as it prepared to leap, certain that the dog was ready to latch on.

“Easy, easy…” he muttered. But his attempts to calm the hound did nothing. Just as it was getting ready to leap towards Emmet and take a bite out of him, Emmet felt all of the fear he was feeling leave his body. Some sense of acceptance, perhaps? But as he shut his eyes and prepared for the pain of teeth sinking into his skin, he heard the menacing growls change to pitiful whimpers. He opened his eyes and saw a very different picture than what he was looking at just a moment ago. The rabid dog that was snapping at him and getting ready to lunge was suddenly backing away, whimpering with it’s tail between it’s legs. Emmet actually felt sorry for the poor thing, and reached out to try and comfort it. But the creature turned, darting away from him and ducking under the fence as it ran off into the night.

Emmet was left stunned. He was fully prepared to be mauled by the hound, he was perfectly fine. It had turned and ran before it even had the chance to jump up at him and try to bite.

“What the hell was that?” A hushed voice hissed.

Emmet turned around to see Hector, the son of the family walking towards him. Emmet had only seen Hector being angry in the brief time that he had known him, but he sounded different this time. He sounded almost hopeful.

“I… I think it was some kind of dog. It looked rabid.” Emmet stammered, still confused by the dog’s sudden change of attitude.

“What? What did you do? did you hurt him?” Hector snapped, stepping forward. He looked ready for a fight, and Emmet was afraid that he was going to try and take a swing at him.

“No! I didn’t even get a chance to touch him!” Emmet exclaimed, keeping his voice hushed so he wouldn’t wake anyone else.

Hector seemed to back down, looking over to where the dog had been and kneeling down at the ground.

“Then why is there blood on the ground?” He asked.

“A hen chased him out of the coop, it probably scratched him.” Emmet explained. That seemed to satisfy Hector, who simply nodded and stood.

“That was probably Henrietta, she has a bit of a temper.” He said.

“You named a hen Henrietta?” Emmet asked.

“Yes, why? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing…” Emmet replied. And after an awkward silence, Emmet spoke.

“Was that your dog.”

Hector’s face contorted, as if he were trying to hold back his emotions. He simply nodded his head, looking off where a few drops of blood darkened the dirt.

“Yeah. Champ got into a scuff with a possum a few weeks back. Pa said I needed to take him out and put him down in case it was rabid. Said it was the best thing to do but I…” Emmet could have sworn he saw tears wet Hector’s cheeks in the moon. “I couldn’t do it. I told him I did, but I let him go. He didn’t even look that sick, I was sure he would come home later and everything would be fine…”

Emmet stood silent. He knew exactly what Hector was going through. He knew it a little too well, only he got more than a few chickens killed when he made the same mistake back in Elksbrooke. He stepped next to Hector, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You should get back inside. Get back to bed before anyone else wakes up.”

Hector simply shook his head. “No. I let Champ down by letting him run off, now he’s sick. And I’m not gonna let him hurt for any longer than he needs to.”

Hector stepped into the shed where Emmet had set up his sleeping space, and stepped out moments later carrying a wood axe. He looked around briefly, and turned back to Emmet.

“Where’s your aunt?” He asked.

“My aunt?” Emmet asked. “Oh, my aunt. You mean she isn’t with you? I never saw her leave your house.”

Hector simply shrugged. “She went out not long after you did, maybe you missed her?”

Emmet knew good and well that he hadn’t seen or heard Sophia leave the house. So where did she run off too? He grit his teeth, irritated that she would run off without telling him where she would be going.

“Truth is, my aunt is…” Emmet hesitated as he chose his next words. “My aunt is weird. She probably found some field to lay in for the night.”

That seemed to satisfy Hector, who hung the axe over his shoulder and head out to follow the trail of blood droplets.

“Hector, wait!” Emmet said, following the boy. “You’re going at night? This is a bad idea, maybe you should wait until the sun is up.”

“No way.” Hector replied. “First, Pa would tan my hide if he knew I disobeyed him. Second, I already let Champ down. I’m not waiting another second to make up for it.”

Emmet groaned, hopping over the fence with Hector.

“Well I’m not letting you go alone, at the very least.”

Hector looked back at Emmet and grimaced. “Fine, just stay quiet.”

“Where did he even run off too?” Emmet asked, his voice hushed as the two snuck through the fields. The trail of blood had long since dried up, and Emmet was following as Hector wandered through the grassy field.

“Who knows.” Hector replied, speaking as little as possible.

Though the fear seemed to have flushed itself from Emmet moments ago, his anxiety was slowly starting to return. Though he was growing nervous in the dimly lit field, there was some comfort in the fact that he could see all around him. The nearest trees were easily half a mile away from where they were, and Emmet wasn’t sure if the dog could have made it that far in such a short time. Though, he did fear that Hector would get himself lost by insisting on going in there…

“Hector, we should go back, it has to have been an hour at this point.” Emmet said. “You can try again in the morning when you get some rest, I’ll even help.”

“No.” Hector replied. “I’m not quitting.”

Emmet balled his fists, raising his hands in frustration. He took the opportunity of Hector having his back turned to him to offer a few rude gestures. Emmet stumbled in place when Hector turned around mid way, practically grinning as he pointed to a dark spot in the hills.

“There, see that?”

Emmet squinted his eyes, trying to tell just what Hector was pointing at. Though he couldn’t see much besides the vague shape of a hill in the distance.

“Uhh, not really.”

“Looks like a burrow.” Hector said. “I bet Champ is hiding out in there! He was always chasing rabbits and foxes down their homes.” He abandoned his sense of caution and ran for the burrow, leaving Emmet to reach out in a vain attempt at stopping him.

“Hector, wait!” Emmet hissed as he followed Hector towards the hill. Hector had dropped the wood axe on the ground as he stepped to the mouth in the side of the hill, and knelt down.

“Champ? Champ? It’s me! Come on out boy!” He said, beckoning his beloved dog, seemingly forgetting why he had come out in the first place.

As Emmet approached Hector, the sight of the burrow became clearer. It wasn’t what he had expected, much larger than something a rabbit or a fox would dig. Emmet got an uneasy, his throat tightening as he approached.

“Hector, I don’t think–“

“Quiet! You’ll scare him!” Hector snapped, turning back to face Emmet with that glare he had given when they first met. He turned back to the burrow, whistling and clapping his hands. Soon, Emmet heard shifting coming from deep in the tunnel. He looked on as Hector was oblivious to the mass of fur slowly making its way closer, far too big to be any dog that Emmet could think of.

“Hector! Get back!” Emmet said, his voice growing more urgent as growling started to echo from the mouth of the burrow. Far deeper, and far more terrifying than what Champ had to offer.

Only when it seemed too late, did Hector realize this was not his beloved companion.

Hector fell on his rear, scooting backwards as an irritated bear slowly poked its head out of the mouth of the burrow.

“What the–'' he stammered, quickly reaching for the wood axe that rested to his side. The bear let out a loud moan, and snapped it’s jaws at his foot. Hector screamed, scrambling to his feet and running towards Emmet, leaving the axe behind. Emmet froze in terror as he watched as the bear fully emerged from its den. It was by no means an adult, judging by the size, but it still was large enough to fill him with a primal dread. His legs trembled, ignoring his mind telling them to run as fast as they could and not stop until it was morning. He only watched as it started to charge towards a fleeing Hector. The boy was fast, but no match for the beast as it caught up, swiping it’s paw at Hector’s shoulder and sending him tumbling to the earth with a cry of pain.

“No!” Emmet shouted, finally breaking the hold his mind seemed to have over his body. Bravely, or perhaps foolishly, he ran towards the bear as it stood on it’s hind legs over Hector. It easily towered over Emmet, who was living out one of his worst fears: meeting a feral beast in the middle of the night. Acting off pure instinct and the rush of a life or death conflict, he stood his ground.

“Hey!” He shouted, raising his hands above his head, waving like a maniac in an attempt to gather the bear's attention. The bear looked at him for a brief moment, regarding him as another challenge to its territory. Grunting, the bear fell back onto all fours and crawled towards Emmet as it let out a loud roar. His ears rang, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt himself start to grow warm. Instantly, he knew what this was. Like it or not, he was beginning to weave again. That fire was starting to brew in his belly like it were a furnace, and Emmet was filled with terror. Last time he did this, he couldn’t control it, and more than the target of his anger was injured.

Emmet cursed to himself, trying his best to focus on the heat brewing in him, shutting his eyes as he heard the bear growling as it approached him. The thudding of its feet grew louder, and the fire in him was burning hotter. It was only a matter of time until one beat out the other, and Emmet feared that Hector would be doomed no matter what the outcome was. For a brief moment, Emmet wondered which would be more merciful: burning to death, or being mauled by a wild bear.