Darius stood firmly pressed against a giant cedar, even though all of his bones were vibrating wildly. The massive bear hadn’t noticed him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. He was so tired of fighting and knew he desperately needed rest. Every night for the past month, however, he had fought this same bear, and every time the bear had won, striking him down with a blow from its enormous left paw.
Left paw. Why was it always the left? Darius had noticed the bear’s missing left eye on the first night; he’d come at the bear from the left for twenty-nine fights now, figuring his only chance was to sneak up on the bear from its blind side. But the bear always swung its head toward him at the last moment, just as he raised his serpentine dagger for the kill. Every time, it looked directly at Darius, which always made him hesitate for a fraction of a second too long. Then it charged with a burst of murderous wrath, and his hesitation cost him his life. The bear always ended him with a single lethal strike.
What was it the oracle had said? Something about compassion. He probably should have paid a bit more attention, but he had been too focused on the priestesses writhing about in their sheer scarves. At any rate, when he hesitated, couldn’t the bear sense his remorse? Darius knew he was displaying as much compassion as possible toward a beast intent on slaughtering him night after night. He was exhausted, because the dreams were the opposite of restful. They felt too real, complete with splitting headaches when he woke every time, and he couldn’t see the point of this exercise any longer.
He was ready to walk out in front of the bear and let it slay him without a fight this time, just because he wanted some sleep. He wanted to be finished with this training for good, even if it meant he’d have to swallow his pride and go back to his father’s house. Just then, though, a squirrel dashed out from the base of the tree he was hiding behind. The squirrel raced across the clearing, then darted up the immense pine the bear was scratching its back against. A large pinecone, loosened by the squirrel’s frantic scampering, dropped from on high to hit the bear squarely in the forehead with an audible knock. The bear briefly cocked its head to look up, then went back to scratching.
It didn’t make sense. Darius knew from experience that the bear was a single-minded killing machine, slaying him repeatedly without regret. Surely it would have been infuriated by such a tiny creature causing it pain? But then he remembered the way it looked straight into his eyes, as though judging his reluctance to fight. Maybe it was waiting on him to show mercy first.
Darius stepped out from behind the cedar and strode toward the bear’s right side, making sure to stay in its line of sight. The bear lifted its head as he approached, then disintegrated into the wind.
Darius awoke, this time with no headache.