That Time With the Bears
Apr. 4th, 2014 04:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lb_leeThis prompt is for Megan, who requested an Infinity Smashed joke to make a point. It takes place in the same day of Electrical Girl and Thin Air. Enjoy!
The Canandria Forest was one of the loneliest areas on the continent. It was very picturesque, very green, and almost completely devoid of human life. Fortunately, that meant we were probably out of the reach of our pursuers, but unfortunately, we were probably out of reach of help too.
Oh, and Raige was positive the place was infested with bears.
“My aunt warned me,” he told me as pulled the knot tight. “She told me stories about them…”
I’d been slapping together a tarp lean-to with burned hands for a few minutes and searching for an appropriate spot to put it for the prior half hour, and he’d been like this the whole time.
“Milquetoast, your aunt was lying. There are no bears here. Possums, yes. Wild boars, sure. Bears, no.”
This didn’t seem to calm him down much. “How dangerous are wild boar?”
I growled with exasperation and shoved him away to do the knot myself. “I don’t know, buddy boy, but I’ll make you a deal. In the off-chance we do run into one, I’ll shove you at it so you can find out.”
He gave me a hurt look, but at least he shut up.
It’s not his fault we’re here, you know. Bobcat’s mental voice sounded reproachful.
“Bobby, I’ve been electrocuted twice--"
Electrified. Electrocution requires fatality.
"--thrown off a roof, hit in the face, dropped from a couple thousand feet, and now I’m stuck in the wilderness with St. Francis of Assisi over there. I’m tired, nauseous, in no small amount of pain, and that’s just the physical stuff, so pardon me if I’m a bit tetchy.” The knot held. I stroked the paracord and crooned, “But not at you, baby. You’re not like those squishy meatsacks, you’re reliable…”
“I’m going to get eaten, aren’t I?” Raige asked.
“Shut up and hold the tarp.”
The moment I had the tarp up and my roll down, I collapsed into it. Forget food. Forget planning. More than anything, I just wanted to sleep off the exhaustion of the prior couple days. Hopefully, once I was better rested, I’d have a better plan as to our next move, and at least I’d get a little peace and quiet.
For one heavenly hour, I was free of all earthly woes and cares. Then Raige shook me awake. Normally, I would’ve lurched upright, but I was in bad enough condition that I just made a whining noise and tried to smother myself with my backpack.
“Something’s coming,” he hissed.
“You woke me up for that?” I whined. “It’s just a raccoon—”
Then I heard the crunch in the underbrush. Big crunch. Definitely not a raccoon.
Raige gave me a significant look. “How dangerous are wild boars again?”
“Uh.” I put the question to Bobcat, but he wasn’t paying attention. He’d already slipped out to the edge of the clearing, ears pricked and eyes intent. I got the sense he was mentally scanning, or doing whatever it was telepaths did at a distance.
It’s a bear.
For a moment, despite everything, I almost shrieked, “There are no bears here!” Then I realized that after everything else that’d happened today, a bear was really small change. So I gritted my teeth, stifled my growing sense of existential outrage, and told Raige in a strangled voice, “it’s a bear.”
I knew exactly what I sounded like, and sure enough, Raige gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Remember, M.D.?” He said sweetly. “There are no bears here.”
I sighed. “All right, you know what, I deserved that, but—”
There’s two of them, actually. Mother and cub.
I closed my eyes for a moment and reflected upon the veracity of my recent life choices. Next to me, Raige started to hyperventilate, but he spoke to me, instead of Bobcat.
“What are we going to do?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re the one who knows what they’re doing! You’re… you’re the survivalist!”
Wow. Maybe we would end up eaten. “I’m an urban forager, milquetoast, not a super-soldier.”
While we were arguing, Bobcat trotted out onto the pine needles, towards the rustling in the underbrush.
“Bobcat! What’re you doing?”
Removing them, now hush! was the sharp response.
I hushed.
For a few minutes, there was silence. Bobcat crouched in the pine needles, the only movement the whipping of the tip of his tail, like he was readying himself to pounce. Everything hung in the air, and then the rustling started up again, moving away. Bobcat returned, quivering and evidently tired.
All right, that should do for now, he said. I nudged them away. Wait until they’re out of range, and then I recommend we quickly, quietly get out of their territory. I have to sleep sometime.
Complaining about the work of packing up didn’t even occur to me. After the way things had been going, getting eaten by geographically impossible bears seemed too karmically tempting to risk.
Raige turned out to be way better at undoing knots than doing them, so he helped me dismantle the lean-to and squish it back into my emergency pack. When he shouldered my pack, I was too exhausted to protest.
“Wow, what have you got in here, rocks?”
I didn’t say anything. I was too tired. We set off through the forest in silence.
But then he said, “You know, I really would’ve rather had a boar than the satisfaction of being right.”
I sighed. “I wouldn’t have minded being right.”
Actually, you are, Bobcat said. There are no bears in Canandria.
By this point, nothing sounded too far-fetched. “Explain.”
Not in this dimension. Which is good for us, actually; it means I can start narrowing down in what dimension we are, which is the first step to getting out.
He continued on, rambling cheerfully about probability vectors. At least he was happy.
The Canandria Forest was one of the loneliest areas on the continent. It was very picturesque, very green, and almost completely devoid of human life. Fortunately, that meant we were probably out of the reach of our pursuers, but unfortunately, we were probably out of reach of help too.
Oh, and Raige was positive the place was infested with bears.
“My aunt warned me,” he told me as pulled the knot tight. “She told me stories about them…”
I’d been slapping together a tarp lean-to with burned hands for a few minutes and searching for an appropriate spot to put it for the prior half hour, and he’d been like this the whole time.
“Milquetoast, your aunt was lying. There are no bears here. Possums, yes. Wild boars, sure. Bears, no.”
This didn’t seem to calm him down much. “How dangerous are wild boar?”
I growled with exasperation and shoved him away to do the knot myself. “I don’t know, buddy boy, but I’ll make you a deal. In the off-chance we do run into one, I’ll shove you at it so you can find out.”
He gave me a hurt look, but at least he shut up.
It’s not his fault we’re here, you know. Bobcat’s mental voice sounded reproachful.
“Bobby, I’ve been electrocuted twice--"
Electrified. Electrocution requires fatality.
"--thrown off a roof, hit in the face, dropped from a couple thousand feet, and now I’m stuck in the wilderness with St. Francis of Assisi over there. I’m tired, nauseous, in no small amount of pain, and that’s just the physical stuff, so pardon me if I’m a bit tetchy.” The knot held. I stroked the paracord and crooned, “But not at you, baby. You’re not like those squishy meatsacks, you’re reliable…”
“I’m going to get eaten, aren’t I?” Raige asked.
“Shut up and hold the tarp.”
…
The moment I had the tarp up and my roll down, I collapsed into it. Forget food. Forget planning. More than anything, I just wanted to sleep off the exhaustion of the prior couple days. Hopefully, once I was better rested, I’d have a better plan as to our next move, and at least I’d get a little peace and quiet.
For one heavenly hour, I was free of all earthly woes and cares. Then Raige shook me awake. Normally, I would’ve lurched upright, but I was in bad enough condition that I just made a whining noise and tried to smother myself with my backpack.
“Something’s coming,” he hissed.
“You woke me up for that?” I whined. “It’s just a raccoon—”
Then I heard the crunch in the underbrush. Big crunch. Definitely not a raccoon.
Raige gave me a significant look. “How dangerous are wild boars again?”
“Uh.” I put the question to Bobcat, but he wasn’t paying attention. He’d already slipped out to the edge of the clearing, ears pricked and eyes intent. I got the sense he was mentally scanning, or doing whatever it was telepaths did at a distance.
It’s a bear.
For a moment, despite everything, I almost shrieked, “There are no bears here!” Then I realized that after everything else that’d happened today, a bear was really small change. So I gritted my teeth, stifled my growing sense of existential outrage, and told Raige in a strangled voice, “it’s a bear.”
I knew exactly what I sounded like, and sure enough, Raige gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Remember, M.D.?” He said sweetly. “There are no bears here.”
I sighed. “All right, you know what, I deserved that, but—”
There’s two of them, actually. Mother and cub.
I closed my eyes for a moment and reflected upon the veracity of my recent life choices. Next to me, Raige started to hyperventilate, but he spoke to me, instead of Bobcat.
“What are we going to do?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re the one who knows what they’re doing! You’re… you’re the survivalist!”
Wow. Maybe we would end up eaten. “I’m an urban forager, milquetoast, not a super-soldier.”
While we were arguing, Bobcat trotted out onto the pine needles, towards the rustling in the underbrush.
“Bobcat! What’re you doing?”
Removing them, now hush! was the sharp response.
I hushed.
For a few minutes, there was silence. Bobcat crouched in the pine needles, the only movement the whipping of the tip of his tail, like he was readying himself to pounce. Everything hung in the air, and then the rustling started up again, moving away. Bobcat returned, quivering and evidently tired.
All right, that should do for now, he said. I nudged them away. Wait until they’re out of range, and then I recommend we quickly, quietly get out of their territory. I have to sleep sometime.
Complaining about the work of packing up didn’t even occur to me. After the way things had been going, getting eaten by geographically impossible bears seemed too karmically tempting to risk.
Raige turned out to be way better at undoing knots than doing them, so he helped me dismantle the lean-to and squish it back into my emergency pack. When he shouldered my pack, I was too exhausted to protest.
“Wow, what have you got in here, rocks?”
I didn’t say anything. I was too tired. We set off through the forest in silence.
But then he said, “You know, I really would’ve rather had a boar than the satisfaction of being right.”
I sighed. “I wouldn’t have minded being right.”
Actually, you are, Bobcat said. There are no bears in Canandria.
By this point, nothing sounded too far-fetched. “Explain.”
Not in this dimension. Which is good for us, actually; it means I can start narrowing down in what dimension we are, which is the first step to getting out.
He continued on, rambling cheerfully about probability vectors. At least he was happy.
no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 05:38 pm (UTC)'What dimension we are *in*'? Or in older Queen's English, 'in what dimension we are'?
no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 10:52 pm (UTC)