John decided to take a wide berth around the occupied animal and continue. Waving
branches from the nearby maples indicated a breeze from the west. That should take his scent away from the bear, so he moved to his right scouting places to place his foot. He did not want to cause any unnecessary noise, although the rushing water near the bear should cover his movements. When he was about two hundred feet away, he arced around and headed downstream, keeping his eye on the large black beast. So far, so good.
He heard the tussling in the brush before he saw anything. Damn it! Too busy concentrating on the big one. Out rolled two cubs, interlocked in a playful wrestling match. They stopped when they saw John and stood up, investigating. One wailed in fear as they both scampered towards the river. John ran in the other direction, angling away from the river, but maintaining a downstream direction. He made about thirty feet before he heard the roar from the river. Adrenaline kicked in as he flew through the brush, visualizing the charging beast behind him. He remembered that movie where DiCaprio got mauled by the bear. He ran faster. It was hard picking a good path. Scrub, deadwood, and uneven terrain slowed him. Meanwhile, the bear was closing in.