I came into town with scars across my chest, wearing a bear-skin coat still dripping with blood.
I had traveled into a remote part of the Rocky Mountains, where I could contemplate the meaning of life free from the shackles of human interaction and responsibility.
It was there that I also befriended a bear. I named him Ben. I know it wasn’t terribly original, but I thought it was funny in an ironic sort of way.
It was nearly too late before I realized Ben’s real intentions toward me. Only one of us was going to come down that mountain alive.

