In these rocks, I could be standing on top of something and never see it. I saw a fox last night. I didn't have my rifle close enough to bag it. I am only setting the Hawkin down when I need to use both hands for something. There are enough branches with leaves lying around to make a roof between the rocks where I put my gear. I'm not as cold as I was. I'm more hungry than I was.

Water helps a little. I have a drip near where I sleep, as the snow melts once the sun comes up. Maybe I'm beyond hungry. Too weak to climb down. If I fell, I'd freeze in an hour.

The sun is shining and I have my fire I put in the doorway of my shelter. I'm sleeping nice and snug at night. The rocks block any wind blowing up here.

Snowed last night. I can see animal tracks in the snow. I am climbing up far enough to have a good view below me. I will need to eat today. I'm weaker than I've been. I may be getting sick. Maybe not eating has caught up with me.

Shot a deer. Couldn't help myself. As soon as it walked into the clearing. I can freeze some of the meat and maybe store it in a place where the meat freezes. If I can freeze meat, I'll have enough meat for weeks, all winter.

I'm starving and cleaned the deer within sight of the shelter I made yesterday. Can't wait to cut up the meat. I'm building a fire and cooking a venison roast. I'll clean up later. The skin is a big one. I will put it to good use.

I know I must cook my meat, so I don't get sick, but too hungry to wait. I'll eat a little and then cook it through. I need food now. I've never been so hungry.

I have the strangest feeling someone is watching me. Had the same feeling yesterday. I look around camp. No footprints. No critters, no people. Being alone for so long is making me uneasy. I was never alone before.

I'm full as a tick and tired.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I did cook the meat well done, after eating a good portion of a three or four pound roast I took off the best part of the deer. I mean to tell you, that was the best damn food I ever ate. I kept going back for more. I've got the rest of the roast beside me in my shelter.

The fire is blazing. I'm snug as a bug in a rug. Couldn't get me out of here with a stick of dynamite. I'm warm, full, and I have no thirst for anything.

There it was again. Something is watching me. I can feel the eyes on me. The snow is mostly melted after a week of snow and more snow. Warmer than it has been, but cold enough to freeze meat. It thaws right away by the fire.

Then, I remembers, I need to clean up the mess I left. I know better, but when you're starving, as soon as you got food, you eats, and there's plenty of light for me to get everything cleaned up and stored once I take a nap, maybe.

The sound woke me up as my deer roast fell into the fire after burning up. I stood straight up. I never heard a sound like that before. There it was again. I didn't need to reach for my Hawkin. It was in my arms. I went down between the rocks where I'd cleaned the deer and cut off the roast to eat.

As I came out between the rocks, the griz heard me, and he turned in my direction and started to charge. I had no time for thinking. I put the Hawkin up to my shoulder and fired in the same instant.

The griz fell about twenty yards away. I shook so bad I needed to sit down, and when I did, I realized everything I didn't know and wasn't told about a griz. He didn't take to being shot very well, and I had me an empty Hawkin lying at my feet, when the griz got up.

No one told me that when you shoot a griz, reload pretty damn fast, cause griz don't always stay shot. I reached for my gun, but my shot and powder was back next to where I made camp. I tried to get in between the rocks, but the bear should have had me by then and he didn't.

I ran to get my shot and a ball for the Hawkin. I went back to finish off the griz. The last thing I needed was for a wounded griz to get in my shelter with me. As I came around the edge of the rocks where the griz had been eating my buck, I caught sight of him climbing higher in the rocks.

I went to where I had a shot at him, but he kept moving and rocks were in the way. I ran around the opposite sides of the rocks to head off my griz, and this time I would kill him for good.

I encountered brush, a few trees, and I was right on top of him when he roared his disapproval of my actions. I moved up a dozen more feet, where I had a good shot at him, and as I lifted the rifle to finish him off, he wobbled, took a half a step, falling on his face dead.

There I stand, my griz on the ground a few feet away and I feel this hot breeze on my neck. It was time for me to get another lesson in what I don't know about grizzly bears. They run in pairs and the second one was about to bite my head off as I turned to get a shot at him, and his paw hit the rifle, and it flew out of my hand into the brush.

"Shit!"

I knew there was a drop off to my right. That's why I made camp where I did. Anything would need to come at me from the front, because the mountain ended directly behind my shelter, and now the second grizzly bear was between me and an escape route.

The only way off that mountain was straight down.

"Shit!"

I didn't try to reach the Hawkin. He'd have had me before I got to it. Maybe I could find a way over the rocks next to where the cliff dropped into nowhere.

I got to my feet once I was out of the brush, and as I considered my options, the griz stepped into the clearing with me. He was twenty yards away.

He didn't look like a happy grizzly bear, and that was before he stood up on his hind legs. It was the biggest damn animal I had ever seen, and to make sure I noticed him, he let out the loudest roar I ever heard.

He was between me and the only escape route, and once he stood eight feet tall, he came toward me as I turned to face him.

As he was about to get ahold of me, I took one step back and…

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I woke up two times that I remember.

It was dark the first time.

I didn't know where I was or what I was doing there.

I passed out as soon as I tried to get up. A pain drove its way from my legs into my brain. The next time I woke up, I didn't know where I was. I did know not to move. I didn't know why I shouldn't move, but I knew there was a good reason not to move, and I didn't move.

The next time I woke it was daylight. I foolishly thought I might get up again, and the world went black. Moving wasn't a good idea at all. I knew that already. So why did I move?

How long could I stay there and not move before I got into serious trouble?

I tried to move and I couldn't. The pain that shot through me was bad, and I guess I passed out again. I know I didn't want to move if it could be avoided.

It didn't bode well for my future prospects.

The next time the world came back into view, a boy was standing at the edge of the cliff above me, and he was looking down as I looked up.

I could see surprisingly well. I saw the Indian boy standing at the top of the cliff, looking down. What was he doing there? What was I doing here?

"You going to scalp me," I asked in plain English.

He laughed and shook his head. He spoke to me. He didn't speak English. I understood most of it. He wanted to know if the griz lying up there was my kill.

I answered him.

"Yes, I kilt it," I said in Pawnee. "Are you real or am I dreaming again?"

I don't know how long I'd been down there. I dreamed so much, how did I know I wasn't dreaming, except I never spoke Pawnee to anyone but Maw.

"This would be your rifle?" he asked, holding up my Hawkin.

"Yes, that would be my rifle."

"You leave a lot of things lying around, don't you?"

I wanted to laugh but I was afraid to move.

"You going to scalp me," I tried again.

He laughed.

"Tell me how you got yourself down there, and I won't scalp you."

This was tricky. I used English in places I didn't know the Pawnee word.

He seemed to understand.

He seemed friendly.

I was a little bit nervous when I opened my eyes, he was next to me. He didn't have a knife. I couldn't make up my mind if I was dreaming him, except when he tried to move me, someone screamed. Maybe it was me, and everything went black again. Blackness was far more preferrable than the pain.

"Don't try to move me," I said when I opened my eyes again.

Somehow, I got back to my camp. I was lying in my shelter with my leg splinted, and a nice comfortable fire burning a foot or so from the entrance.

I was worried. My world faded in and out of focus. My leg hurt. I didn't move.

"You drink now."

It was warm and bitter as I could see who held the cup. I did what I was told. A different kind of warmth came over me. It didn't help me to know where I was or how I got here, but my brain seemed to swirl around inside my head.

"This your deer?" the Indian boy asked me, handing me a stick with venison roasted at the end of the stick.

I fell. I couldn't get up. There was an Indian boy. I kept dreaming about home. Did I dream the Indian boy? Did I dream the venison? No, I kilt the deer.

"You hungry?" a voice asked me. "You eat. Good meat."

It was dark. Then, it was daylight again. I remained in my shelter.

"You drink now. Help pain."

The drink was bitter, but if it kept that pain from driving into me again, I would drink anything. It was warm and not too unpleasant. My brain swirled round and round in my head. I was sure my leg hurt, but I couldn't find it."

"I don't know," I said, confused by the question.

There he was again. It was the Indian boy. Was he real? The meat was good. I think I had some venison earlier, but I couldn't be sure what this is. It's got a delicious deep favor to it."

It was hot, but the stick that went with it held the meat so I could eat it.

"What is it?" I asked anyone who wanted to tell me.

"Bear meat. Good," the Indian boy said as he chewed.

"We're eating my bear. I need that bear to prove…."

Things went black again. My leg hurt something fierce.

I was warm. The fire had me captivated as I wondered how it got there. I had built a fire. I was chased by a bear. I fell.

"You drink now. Feel better."

There it was again. I knew the words. They were Pawnee. I spoke some Pawnee. There was an Indian boy. He held the cup with the bitter liquid.

I drank the warm bitter drink. I drank it before. He had me drink before. "Leg hurts," I said, but it really didn't hurt any longer.

I drifted in and out for how long, I can't say.

"Who are you?" Someone asked as my brain floated inside my head.

"Lit'l Fox. Who you"

"I'm Gregory. I fell."

"I know. You drink now."

I drank the potion as it warmed me. My face felt hot. I was warm all over on the inside. The fire burned a few feet past my feet and the splint on it.

"You like bear? Here," he said.

I was sure I went through this before. I wanted to try again.

"This is my bear?" I asked, holding the meat close enough to see it clearly.

The smell was intoxicating. I was already dizzy. I bit into the sizzling meat.

I was hungry. I didn't feel hungry. That meat was the most wonderful meat.

I chewed the charred meat, and it warmed my innards as I swallowed. The flavor seemed to mingle nicely with the drink the Indian boy gave me.

"Lit'l Fox bear," the Indian boy explained to me.

"Who Lit'l Fox?" I heard someone say.

I was hungry. I ate more of the meat. I'd never tasted anything like it.

"What is this?" I asked.

"I Lit'l Fox," he said in plain English.

Then he said it again.

"My bear."

"Not your bear. I shot bear fair and square. My bear."

"I find bear. My bear."

"I kilt that bear."

"You leave bear there. Lit'l Fox find. Butcher bear. Cook. My bear."

I wiped my greasy hands on my deerskin leggings. It was good meat.

"I shot him."

"I will wrestle you for him," Lit'l Fox said.

We were both looking at the splint on my right leg.

"You splint my leg?" I asked.

"I splint leg," Lit'l Fox said.

"Thanks. How do you know how to put a splint on it?"

"Medicine Woman teach. I splint birds wing, fox leg, you first boy."

"Why help me?"

"Need help. Lit'l Fox help."

His English words were only a little more surprising than the Pawnee he spoke and I understood. If this was a dream, it was convincing. It felt real. The pain in my leg felt real. Where was Maw? Why wasn't she taking care of me?

It was very quiet, and the Indian boy laid next to me in between the rocks. He'd put the roof back on my shelter and the fire was hardly glowing as I woke when a sharp pain hit my leg.

"Okay?" Lit'l Fox asked.

"Leg hurt," I said as the throbbing increased.

The next thing I knew, I was drinking the warm liquid he had me drink.

"Bitter," I said.

"Goo for pain. You drink."

The fire was burning bright again. My brain floated off into the night.

I felt like I was coming and going at the same time. I wasn't clear on what was real and what was dreams. I stopped trying to figure it out as sleep took me.

Maybe I would wake up next to the fireplace at the cabin in the valley where the river runs. Even when I thought it, I knew I wouldn't wake up at home. I went too far and it had been too long since I left home for it to be a long and very complicated dream. It wasn't a dream. Why couldn't I stay awake long enough to figure out what it is.

I'm tired.

I was on the mountain. I did kill my griz, and I did fall and get a broke leg. It was crystal clear before it became fuzzy again.

Lit'l Fox gave me more drink, and I chewed another piece of meat.

I was hot and I was cold, and the heat from the bear meat in my stomach seemed to make my face hot and my brain made a circle inside my head, but it wasn't the bear meat. The drink made me dizzy. I began drifting again.

"No stay here. Stay tonight. Go village. Medicine Woman take care," he say.

The next time I woke up, I was on something soft. There were two poles with a blanket and hides were under me. It was soft and my leg hurt.

We were moving. It was slow going, but we were moving. Each time the sled tilted or bumped across rocks, someone screamed.

After we hit the second or third rock. I knew who was screaming. He stopped for me to recover. Then, we got going again. My leg was on fire.

He was taking me somewhere. I couldn't stay where I was. I'd have frozen on that mountain, and so he was pulling me off the mountain, or so I figured.

I kept floating in and out. The next time I was in, we sat beside a fire, and I could smell the meat. I was hungry, but I felt like I might be sick. I was hot and cold at the same time. My brain was in a fog and my leg ached.

"Leg hurts."

The next time I woke, I smelled deer meat cooking. The Indian boy was sitting a few feet away turning meat over a fire.

I tried my Pawnee on him again. If he was a dream, maybe he'd answer in some Pawnee I knew. I felt the fire's warmth. This was real. The smell of venison was real. He handed me a stick, and I forgot about my leg. I was starving.

"Where are my skins?" I blurted, remembering my gear.

"You're lying on them."

"My Hawkin," I said, "Where is my rifle? My knife. Paw made me that knife."

"Next to you. Stay still. You make leg hurt."

I put my hand beside me and the Hawkin was there. Knife was on top of the rifle.

He took my bear. I thought maybe he would take my Hawkin. Is it loaded? No Indian was going to give a white man a loaded Hawkin.

"You shot a deer?" I asked.

Once again, I was fuzzy on the dream I was having. Lots of dreams made no sense, and I couldn't make sense of it.

Then, I remembered shooting the deer. I cleaned it where it dropped, and rather than cleaning up my mess, I went to get the venison over the fire so I could eat. I knew better. That's when I heard the griz the first time. There were two grizzly bears. I shot one.

"You shot deer. I cook deer. Hungry? You hungry? Deer good food."

The more he said the more confused I got. If he was a dream, he was convincing. He handed me the venison. It tasted like venison. That's when I got myself in trouble. I was too long without food, and I left the remnants of the deer lying too near camp. That's why the bear came in so close. That's what got me in trouble.

This made sense to me. I remembered shooting the deer. I cooked venison. I went to clean up the mess, and that's where I got into trouble with the bears.

"Were you watching me?" I blurted, feeling his eyes on me again.

I felt like I was being watched before I shot the deer. I was being watched.

"Want to know what white boy is doing on my mountain," Lit'l Fox said.

It was all too confusing as he dragged me on a comfortable bed. I was lying on my hides. The ride was rough and I fell asleep and I woke in a panic.

"My griz? I wanted my griz. It's how I prove to Paw I'm a man?"

We kept moving. He didn't stop or turn around. He kept pulling the sled.

Where was he taking me? I got to take the griz to show Paw.

It snowed today, or was it yesterday or was today yesterday? How long had it been?

"Where was my griz?"

I'm drinking the drink again. There is a fire.

Still moving. Where do I go?

I ain't sure where I am. I can't say much about nothing presently. I feel myself moving. I keep waking up to lying down. I ain't moved nowhere, has I?

I don't remember when I went to sleep, but I'm on the move. Can't be sure how this is. I'll work on it. Tired now.

It's cold. My face is cold. I'm warm. I ain't sure how that be possible.

I smell rabbit again. I smelt it before. I don't remember killing no rabbit lately. Could be wrong. I keep thinking I'm moving, but I'm lying still.

The Indian boy keeps giving me a hot drink. I think it's him. Lit'l Fox. I drink it and take what he cook. Tastes a lot like rabbit. I sleep. I wake. Drink bitter drink. Eat. Go sleep.

Where am I? I fell. Am I still falling. My leg is hurt. Hard to move.

I woke and the Indian boy is pulling me on a sled. I say boy. He's older than me. Where am I going? I'll figure out when I wakes up. Where'd he come from? Where am I going? He's behind me but in front of me at the same time.

Tired. So tired.

He doesn't speak. He pulls sled. We stop. He fix drink. Fix meat.

So tired. Leg hurts. We keep moving.

I woke. I watch him. I want to ask where I am going. Tired. So tired.

"You eat," he said.

My eyes fluttered open. He isn't pulling me. I took a few bites of venison. I'm sure there was rabbit before. I know rabbit when I taste it. I like rabbit best, but venison is good too.

"Drink," he ordered as I tried to get up.

"Stay still," he said, as pain shot into my brain.

I got to get up.

Tired.

He holds me up and I drink. I don't know where I am. Who is the Indian?

"I Lit'l Fox."

Who is Lit'l Fox?

My head swirls as the bitter liquid goes down. I'm hot.

It's cold.

"We have bear meat?" I wanted to know.

"Foot of sled. Bear meat and venison you kill."

"My bear," I said.