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Its response was swift, perhaps even instinctual, and in the face of that primal, desperate fury, the fury of a beast that wished only for revenge rather than survival, Atzi allowed her toothed club to fall out of her hand on the first swing. The heavy weapon disappeared into the brush, and in the same move, she met the bear head-on, her shoulder tucking against the underside of its jaw as her arms, one of flesh and one of bone, wrapped around its chest. In a contest of strength, even Atzi couldn’t expect to go up favorably against such a mountain of muscle, but if all she had to do was survive?

The Grove Bear’s jaws were powerful, but she was too close for it to bite down at her, not with her shoulder forcing it up. The Grove Bear’s claws were long, but she was too close for it to get a full swing off, and her cloak was thick enough that the blunted tips could only snag against the treated leather. The Grove Bear’s strength was tremendous, but she was clinging to its underside, and no matter where it charged, it could not reach her.

So all it could do was fall, the blood flowing ever faster out of its mortal wound, the bear collapsing over Atzi moments later. And that too, she was prepared for. In smothering silence, in fading warmth, the woman waited until the heartbeat she felt had stopped, until the weight she felt had deadened, before she slowly pushed herself off the great beast, caked from head to toe in blood.

Not her blood.

Slicking her hair out of her eye, she rubbed the back of her shoulder and sniffed the already-congealing gore on her skin. [b]“Think I can take a quick dip in the lake, Maira? Maybe finish bleeding out the bear too?”[/b]