There was a lot of it, just speckles at first and then arcing across the ice in a sweeping spray, and finally, a large pool full of gore. He crouched next to the pool and touched his finger to it. Still wet.

“Hello?” he said again. His voice echoed back at him from the far bank. He had no way of knowing whether this blood was animal or human. But there were two possibilities; this man had either bagged big game, or gotten himself into a heap of trouble.

“Anyone there!? Do you need help!?”

A crow, rousted by his voice, lifted off from a pine tree in a flurry of cawing and flapping wings and soared over the river. Pete jumped and swore. Okay, Grizzly Adams, think. If the guy’s hurt, there will be a trail of blood to follow.

In fact, there was a thick line of blood leading away from the larger pool, towards the opposite bank. There were bloody boot prints too. He followed them across the ice, but before long, they faded and then disappeared well before they reached land again.

On the one hand, Pete thought, that was good news. If the man had been badly wounded, he would have kept bleeding. But then again, if he’d wounded or killed the bear, what happened to the carcass? It didn’t make any sense.

He crouched and studied the last boot print. It was strange. Faint but still visible enough, and yet the prints just ended there, as if the wearer had grown wings and flown away. He could try to find this guy, or he could just turn around and go back to his truck and pretend like it never happened. There was nobody here to judge him; nobody, that is, except one man who may or may not be lying somewhere with his intestines hanging out and a bear’s teeth marks in his skull.

WWJD—What Would Jerri Do? He smiled grimly at the familiar joke, referenced many times during the years of his marriage. At first it had been lighthearted, but more recently he’d said it with real bitterness. His wife really did feel as if her word was law, and that was the problem as far as he was concerned. Being tied down didn’t suit him. He was a man, and men needed their freedom.

Jerri, he decided, would leave the guy to die. It’s his own damn fault for going out here in the first place, she’d say. If there’s an angry bear on the loose, we need to find someplace else to go. So Pete decided to stay.

He looked for any more marks, but there was nothing. Still, the general direction of the prints had been towards the far side of the river, so he headed in that direction, holding his rifle tightly in both hands. His entire body was tingling, and he felt more alive than he had in months. This was why he’d come out here in the first place, to find his balance again and remember what he used to be like, before life had gotten in the way.