Jesus Is the Bridge Ministries

“You don’t need to worry about the bears at this time of year,” Narga assured us as we moved back down into the area of trees. “They hibernate through the winter.”

It was good to look about us and see something besides just snow and ice again. This was an evergreen forest, and in places the trees were clustered so closely about the trail that we walked on pine needles rather than snow. The place we were in now felt very ancient, and the strong scent of pine needles, rather than being pleasant, enhanced the eerie feeling of being cut off from the world. Besides the noise of our passing, there was no sound about us at all.

A narrow valley cut across our route, and the trail dipped more sharply as we descended diagonally to the valley floor. The trees were even thicker here, and so was the sense of foreboding. The stream that cut through the center of the valley was frozen solid, and we crossed it without difficulty. On the other side of the valley, the trail ran close to an area of cliffs and caves. This, Narga said, was where the bears went to pass the winter, and we should be very quiet in passing by.

What prompted the bear to leave the warmth of his cave I never knew, though I wondered if the Parnath’oi might somehow have been responsible. All I know for sure is that Narga shouted a sudden warning, and a great shape materialized from one of the caves above us. I never saw any creature so large, and as it reared up on its hind legs, it seemed to reach to the top of the hill behind.

“Back!” yelled Narga. He and the other men with bows were already fitting arrows to their bows. I saw my father pull his axe from his saddle; it was meant for cutting wood, but it was the only weapon he had.

The horses panicked. Both of our packhorses broke away, and ran back down into the valley, neighing with terror. The others reared, and tried to bolt. Doria was thrown hard to the ground, and desperately rolled away in an effort to avoid her horse’s hooves. Gareth was by her side at once, his own horse forgotten in his effort to save his wife.

As the bear roared, its voice echoing like thunder through the valley, several arrows hit it at once. Most bounced off its tough hide, but one, by chance or blessing, hit it in the eye. It pawed at its face, and the arrow fell away, leaving one red, blood-smeared eye.

“Aim for its eyes!” Narga called, and sent one his own shafts into the same eye.

Maddened with pain, the bear dropped down on all four paws, and came thundering down the path toward us. It reared up again right in front of Narga’s horse, and all but decapitated the animal. Narga rolled away as the horse fell, and his friend Sentior rushed to his aid. He challenged the bear with a shout, loosing shaft after shaft at it. In his desperation, he got too close. The bear killed his horse as well, and a glancing blow from its paw swept Sentior from the saddle.

It was then that my father did one of the bravest things I have ever seen anyone do. Standing up in his saddle, he rushed at the bear in his turn. I breathed a quick prayer certain he was going to his own death trying to help his friends. He had his axe lifted above his head, and I saw it go flying through the air in a slow arc. I was afraid it would miss its mark, but it flew straight and true, burying itself deep in the bear’s massive skull.

With one final roar of rage and pain, the bear fell, not toward us, but back up hill, on its back, carried backward by the momentum of the blow. It convulsed as it lay there, violently, as blood gushed from its head, then lay still.

I had been struggling with my own horse while all of this happened, and the rest of my attention had been directed towards the bear. Feeling dazed, but immensely exhilarated, I looked around to see what had happened to the others. Gareth and Doria were off to the side of the trail; he had her head cradled in his lap. She had her eyes open, and so far as I could tell at a glance, she was okay. The rest of us, other than the two Berith’oi involved in the fight, were still in the saddle, but still fighting to regain control of their horses. I realized that someone was missing, though; Crispan was nowhere to be seen.

The immediate concern was Sentior. Narga was with him, but I wondered if he could have survived. His face was a mass of blood; his whole body was colored red, and blood covered the ground around him. Narga was sitting beside him, weeping, wringing his hands; he was in shock.

I knew what must be done. Marcus was close beside me, his face white, and his eyes glazed.

“Marcus!” I called sharply. He looked at me without seeing me. I slapped his face, as Bantal had done with Crispan in the cave. “Snap out of it! There are things to be done.”

His eyes cleared. “What? Oh – what can we do? This is – this is – “

I handed him the reins of my horse, which was beginning to calm down. “Hold on to my horse. I must do something.”

He took the reins, still in a daze, but aware enough to follow instructions. I leapt from my horse, and ran to where Sentior lay. Ignoring the blood, I knelt beside him, placed my hands on his bloodied head, and began to pray.

“Father, in Jesus’ name, touch his body. Bind the wounds. Heal the hurts. Restore his life.”

I felt calm, like I always do when I know that God is in control. A quiet voice in my mind said, “Call the others.”

I looked back at the milling group down the trail. “Mother! Bantal! Maritsa! Come here! Quickly!”

In minutes, they were gathered around me, their hands and prayers added to my own. I could feel warmth and power flowing through my hands, and an almost physical sense of things being knit together. Our prayer ended, we lifted our hands from Sentior at the same time.

To Bantal I said, “Find water, and cloth. We must clean the wounds, and see how badly he’s hurt.”

Sentior, who had been quiet before, was moaning now. I heard a movement behind me, and Narga spoke.

“How is he? Will he live? Oh, why was I so foolish?”

I turned toward him. He was blood spattered, but I didn’t think it was his own blood. As with most of us, the blood was drained from his face, and I thought he was still in shock. I smiled at him.

“He’ll recover. He’s badly hurt, and he’s lost a lot of blood, but the Lord is doing a healing work in him.”

In a few minutes more, Bantal was back with a water skin, and some articles of clothing he had torn into strips. I began tenderly washing Sentior’s face and head. Both were covered with angry, deep gashes, but the wounds had closed, and were no longer bleeding. The claws had missed his eyes, just barely, but his scalp was badly torn.

The marks extended down to his chest, and I had to cut away part of his shirt. After cleaning his wounds, I bound them up as well as I could with the cloth. Mother and Maritsa helped, but they let me do most of the work.

“Maritsa,” I said, as I finished the bandage on Sentior’s chest, “would you check on Doria? She had a bad fall, and I’m concerned she may have hit her head, or broken a bone.”

So far as Maritsa could tell, Doria had suffered no more than assorted cuts, bumps, and bruises. She was lucid enough to suggest we go somewhere to camp, so we could start a fire, and prepare herbs for Sentior.

Bantal had gone back to check on the others; I noticed Crispan had reappeared from whatever hole he had crawled into. My father, Partius, and Nociar were helping with the horses, those that were left. Alexi, looking sour as always, was sitting on his horse talking to Crispan, who acted as if nothing at all had happened.

My father was concerned that more of the bears might be disturbed, and I was inclined to agree. It took the better part of the afternoon to clear away the carcasses of the bear and the dead horses, and prepare a makeshift stretcher for Sentior. We had lost two of our horses, along with the packhorses, so we would either have to double up, or walk. Gareth’s horse had become entangled in some brush, and we were able to retrieve it. We decided that the men who were still healthy would take turns walking, despite Crispan’s protests. I wanted to share in the walking as well, as did Mother and Maritsa, but the men overruled us.

On the rim of the hill above the valley, the terrain was level for a space before it began dropping again. Not too far from the valley, we found a pleasant grove with an open space inside. There was a stream not far away, and the trees gave good protection from the wind. The skies were darkening with forbidding clouds, and we were concerned that we might be facing another blizzard.

We made a fire at the edge of the grove, but we put our horses and bedrolls back among the trees. My father and Partius had cut some strips of meat from the bear, all we could carry, and went back for more. If we had to hole up here, we would need to lay in a supply of meat. With the flight of the packhorses, we had precious little food. Berith was still days away, and we could expect no more help from the Parnath’oi.

It was already dark when the two men returned, and for the first time that day there was room for celebration. They had found the packhorses grazing quietly not far from the place of the bear fight, and had recaptured them without difficulty.

We made Sentior as warm and comfortable as we could, and he roused long enough to take a little of the herbal medicine Doria prepared. Narga had regained much of his composure, though he persisted in feeling guilty about leading us to the bear, after having just said we had nothing to worry about. The healing of that wound might take longer than the healing of Sentior’s hurts.

The snow began falling in earnest not long after Father and Partius returned. We had managed to cook our meat, but we couldn’t keep up the fire once the snow fell heavily. It was too dangerous to start one among the pines, where the thick carpet of fallen needles offered an excellent source of fuel for a forest fire.

Although it was cold, we were out of the wind and snow, and thanks to the extra furs on the packhorses we were all able to wrap up warmly for the night. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I cuddled next to Marcus under our blanket and furs. The next thing I remembered was waking up next morning, with him stirring next to me.

The snow was still coming down hard, and the wind moaning through the branches above us made me feel depressed. It sounded like a chorus of wailing ghosts. I didn’t want to move from where I was; I was warm and comfortable, and lying next to the man I loved. Reluctantly, though, I decided I needed to check on Sentior.

Doria was already there, and Sentior was awake. He looked up at me as I sat down across from Doria, and smiled. “Doria tells me you saved my life. Thank you.”

“Oh, no, Sentior, the Lord did that. I prayed for you, but so did the others. The Lord did the healing work. Doria was a great help, too. Her herbs helped you recover as quickly as you have. We’ll try to get something hot for you, but I’m not sure how we’re going to start a fire.”

It wasn’t as hard as I thought. The men dug s fire hole, and lined it with rocks. We cleared away the pine needles in the area around it. We would have to watch carefully for sparks, but the chance was one we had to take. After a hot breakfast, and some broth for Sentior, we all felt better, even a bit cheerful.

Nociar came to me after we had eaten, and asked if he could talk to me alone. We went off a little ways among the trees, and he stood quietly for a while, looking at the ground. I knew what was going on.

“What is it, Nociar? What do you want to tell me.”

He looked up at me, a determined look on his face. “I saw what happened yesterday, when you prayed for Sentior. I want what you have; I want to know Christ.”

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