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(my part six entry into the crown sonnet started by Debs)

Ahead the bear in sudden motion stands.
I want to turn and run, but this is not
my way;  I grasp my knife in trembling hands.
This fight will be like none I’ve ever fought!

The beast is greatly wounded; I can tell
by how he weaves, and I must take his life!
His neck I’ll strike. I breathe in; then exhale. . .
With all my might, I lunge out with my knife.

My free wrist he has clawed, but I am good!
Again and then again, I thrust and thrust.
Blood gushes from him as I knew it would.
I willed his death, for in myself I trust.

His warmth I’ll take by scraping fur from skin.
I bow before the bear to honor him.

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