It happened a few years back now. I was working as a guide out in the deep forest. I’d done that for years, and I was pretty good at it too. Hunters would come from all over the world to have me guide ‘em through the brush to where the biggest game was. Might be elk, might be moose, might be bear. Whatever they was looking for I could take ‘em to it. One of my clients still holds the record for the biggest caribou ever taken in British Columbia. I’d also guide photographers and naturalists too. Spent some time helping some boys from Canadian Geographic find some of them Kermode bears on the coast for an article.

I was so good that the Mounties would call me to help folks lost in the woods. Sometimes we’d find ‘em all right. Other times it’d have been a bit too long before they called me in and the cold or the bears had gotten to ‘em first. One time, a fella had taken a kid up into the backcountry and the Mounties were worried what he was gonna do to the little guy. I’d heard about it on the news and didn’t wait for the Mounties to give me a call. When they finally rang me up, I was only about a hundred yards from the guy. Of course, he heard my phone ring and looked right at where I was hiding. So, I jumped up and ran at him, shooting my rifle in the air. He got scared and ran, leaving the kid there. I stayed with the kid and told the Mounties where we were.

It was a few days later when the Mounties asked me to help find where the dirtbag had run off to. When we found him, it looked like he’d taken a fall down the side of a ravine and gotten himself stuck with a busted leg at the bottom. The eagles and the ravens had probably been pecking on him for a day or so before he finally died. I didn’t feel so bad on that one.

Why was I so good? Well people always said it was because my great grandfather had been a shaman. I never really believed such nonsense; everyone knew that the shamans were long gone. ‘sides, being half white the spirits probably don’t talk to me the same way they used to talk to the ancestors. Instead, I just trusted in the old ways my grandpa had taught me about looking for signs and following the flow of the land. Those’ll tell you all you need to know right there.

Anyway, I suppose I was telling a story, wasn’t I?

So I was under contract to some guys who did a show where they went around the world shooting big game. There were the stars, a producer, a camera crew and the like. They had a lot of expensive gear and every night a helicopter would show up to take them back to the hotel. I’d have to stay out there so they could pick up the hunt again where they left off after breakfast.

They’d wanted me to lead ‘em to a grizzly so they could get some footage of them shooting it. They spent most of the time looking for spots where they could film the two hunters ‘stalking’ the bear. Bunch of fakes, but hey, the money was good and at the end of it, I was gonna take ‘em to a grizzly and see them do their thing.

Anyway, after a week of them pretending to hunt, they got a little impatient that they hadn’t seen a grizzly yet. I told ‘em that the helicopter was too loud and noisy. It was scaring off everything. They didn’t believe me and said I mustn’t be that good of a guide if I can’t find a grizzly for them.

Well, I have my pride, so I said to ‘em that I’d lead them to a grizzly that very afternoon. They liked the sound of that and we set out. It wasn’t long before we were deep in the forest. Places men don’t walk. Normally I would’ve avoided them, a half-blood like me and a bunch of white folks have no business in a place like this, but my pride was up so in we went.

The sun was still plenty high when we found the first sign of grizzly. Not that it matters in a wood like this. It could be noon and the place is as dark as twilight. Come nightfall the place would swallow up all the light and be as black as the inside of grave.

It was that first sign that snapped me to my senses. We were too deep in the wild. This was one of the places old shamans would come to only when they needed to speak with the spirits on the most important matters. Coming here myself was an insult to the spirits. Bringing outsiders was tantamount to declaring war.

Now I didn’t believe in the old spirits and stuff, but grandfather had always taught me that even if I don’t believe in them, it doesn’t mean that they don’t believe in me. So I’d made a point of not doing anything to piss ‘em off. Just to be on the safe side you understand.

I quickly started looking for a way out, but I was too late. One of the hunters had spotted the grizzly sign too. “Alright, we’re close,” he said, “let’s set up here.”

"No, this isn’t a good place." I said, “there are much better ones back that way." I pointed back the way we came.

"Nonsense," he replied "I can see by the marks that we have a grizzly nearby, probably a big one. We’ll set up here."

The camera crew and the producer were making their preparations, blinds for the hunters, blinds for the cameras, figuring out how to make the most of the lighting conditions.

“You don’t want to find what’s here." I tried to persuade them "You don’t want it to find you."

The producer came over "Look you, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but obviously you aren’t the guide we thought you are. We’ll take care of it ourselves from here. Go take a hike."

I was too frustrated to speak, so I picked up my stuff and stated walking.

I’d made it about half a mile when I heard the shots. There were too many of them, a good hunter should only need one or two to bring down what they are hunting, but there were easily a half a dozen in quick succession. Knowing something was wrong I dropped my pack, took my gun and ran back to where I’d left the film crew.

Now I can run pretty fast, even scrambling over rocks and under logs like that I’m as fast as most city folks are on the track, but even still, by the time I got there it was too late. At the place, I’d left them torsos, limbs and organs had been scattered about like a hungry dog had gotten into a girls doll collection. I don’t think I’ll ever stop having nightmares about that place. I just stood there trying to comprehend what had come up and hit them so fast and so hard like that.

A scream from deeper in the dark wood snapped me out of it. Someone was still alive and I had to help ‘em. I chambered a round and headed into the underbrush.

Soon enough I had found ‘em. One of the cameramen was up a tree, what was left of the producer was at the bottom beside the biggest grizzly I’d ever seen. Without any concern for my presence, the grizzly reared up, grabbed the cameraman by the leg with its paw and pulled him down to the ground.

Without hesitation I shouldered my gun and put a shot right into the beast’s side. It was a perfect hit, lined up with the monster’s heart.

It ignored me and pushed its jaws down into the guts of the poor cameraman.

I shot again, and again. I emptied my gun. I could see my bullets hitting the monster, but instead of causing it any pain, the shots just pancaked against its hide and fell to the ground.

By this time the demon bear had decided it wanted to pay attention to me. It stood up on its hind legs and began to walk towards me as casual as you or me taking a stroll to the corner store

Panicking now, I drew my revolver and kept shooting. I watched helplessly as each shot just slid off the bears’ face.

With it towering above me and not wanting to get eaten alive, I did the only thing I could think of. I put the revolver under my chin and pulled the trigger.

It clicked empty; I’d fired everything I had at the bear and not even made it flinch.

The bear bent down. Gore dripped from its muzzle and splattered on my face. Its breath was as foul as a slaughterhouse.

Now I’ll be damned but I’ll swear on any book you want that the bear spoke to me. "Run" was what it said.

So I did, and I didn’t stop. Not until I was well out of the tribe’s lands.

I ain't ever been back.

I'm sure there are some useful tricks to be known.

One thing that seperated me form the others who were out there is that I have native blood. The other thing is that I left before the attack began.

But it was my fault anybody was there so I don't know.

Just what I need, more head trips.

My grandfater used to say the same thing - but he also had sleep apnea.

Been a while. I've been places I can't describe.

Not that I lack the vocabulary, Non Disclosure Agreements are what they are.

You may ask away Last Moon, but I've told pretty much all there is to tell. For obvious reasons I have no intention of going back and troubling them with questions.