An hour later, I was this close to collapsing when the forest itself decided to spice things up.
A roar split the rain-soaked air, deep and bone-shaking. My ears perked, my stomach dropped, and every instinct screamed run. I glanced over my shoulder and—yep. A hulking brown bear, teeth bared, eyes wild, was charging straight at us.
I screamed. Loud. “WHAT THE ACTUAL—GREGOR, THAT IS A BEAR!”
Alpha Smugpants didn’t even flinch. Didn’t break stride. He just leapt to a tree branch like some smug action hero, looked down at me, and barked, “Fight it.”
“EXCUSE ME?” I shrieked mid-run. “That thing is a bear! Like claws-and-fangs, murder-in-the-forest bear! I don’t do National Geographic!”
“You’re a wolf,” he said, annoyingly calm. “Shift and fight it.”
“I am also a person who values not dyi
