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brown is on the trail. It shifts and now I know why Tej is scared witless. It’s a bear.

Chapter Six
    I try to call to Tej but my voice barely squeaks. The bear is on all fours, swaying its head back and forth, sniffing the air. Its brown fur is tipped with lighter brown, and its eyes, close to the middle of its face, are round and black. Its ears are like brown tennis balls on the side of its head. The bear is looking at Tej, and then it sees me. I feel the eggs slip out of my hand.
    We are so close to the bear I can smell it, a gagging smell that is rank and sweet atthe same time. The bear rears up, getting a better look at us.
    Tej backs into me. He speaks to me in a singsong voice, trying to soothe the bear, I guess. “Walk backward, you idiot.” I force my feet to shuffle backward on the path. “Slowly,” he says. “Don’t make eye contact with it. And don’t run or he’ll charge for sure.”
    Tej is between the bear and me. I could turn and run right now, and the bear would get him. I’d get away and the bear would get Tej. I think about this for a shamefully long time, but then I do as Tej says
    The bear on its hind legs is as tall as Tej, maybe as tall as me. So long as the bear is on its hind legs, we’re all right. A bear can’t charge on two legs.
    The bear drops to all fours.
    Tej mutters, “Crap.”
    Good thing I already did.
    The bear lowers its head. When a dog looks like this, it means you could get bitten. When a bear looks like this, it means you could be lunch. The bear’s eyesharden, as if it has lost patience with us. We’re on his trail and he wants us off. The bear opens its jaws. Big jaws. Really big teeth. His jaws make a smacking sound.
    I whisper, “He’s going to eat us.”
    Tej is backing up faster now. He says, “For once in your life, you might be right.”
    I reach down for a rock.
    The bear huffs, and then it sweeps its front paw across the path. Big paw. Really big claws. Dirt sprays up. I feel a clod of mud hit my cheek.
    The rock in my hand is the size of a cantaloupe. I don’t know why I’m holding it—a rock is useless against a bear.
    The bear huffs and pops its jaw.
    A bad sign, a very bad sign.
    The bear shakes its head like it’s making up its mind. Then it charges.
    Tej goes totally still. The bear is so close now I can see bits of dried grass in its fur. Saliva hangs in ropes from its jaws. Its eyes are flat black. It’s not so much a decision as a reaction—I lob the rock up.
    The toss is so weak I could be pitching to first-grade T-ballers. But it arcs straight up over Tej, hangs in the air and then plummets. The rock clunks square in the center of the bear’s skull.
    The bear blinks and rears back onto its ass. It shakes its head and lets out a bawling wail. Then it runs away from us, up the trail in the direction we came.
    Tej bursts out laughing. “It was just a yearling,” Tej says. “Hardly more than a cub.”
    I’m not laughing, not yet. My knees are jelly and my hands are shaking. “Right, just a teddy bear.”
    On the ground by my feet is a mess of smashed egg. I lean down. Two miniature birds lie folded in the broken yellow sacs.

Chapter Seven
    â€œIf that bear was just a yearling, I’d hate to see it when it’s full-grown.”
    We’re in an open meadow of long grass. Ahead of me on the trail, Tej waves his hand. “I’d hate to see it with its mother. We’d be hamburger.”
    â€œYou would be. I’d still be running.”
    â€œYou ca n’t out r un a bear, Liam. They’re faster than they look. Remember that video my dad took of the grizzly getting the sheep?”
    I remember. It was at his uncle’s ranch in Montana. Tej’s dad had videotaped the grizzly from his truck. The bear was in Tej’s uncle’s sheep pasture, chasing the flock. The video showed the bear taking the