Free Never Say Die by Will Hobbs

my detour and was waiting for me to ford the creek.
    Twenty yards upstream, the creek ran in two channels around a gravel island. The narrow channel on my side of the island was the shallower of the two. I was about to start wading when I spotted a big char holding in shin-deep water under the bank. At the head of the channel, the water ran only ankle deep. I got an idea.
    With a rush, I jumped into the channel just below the fish. The char darted upstream and I gave chase. Where the water got too shallow, the big fish turned and darted back in my direction. It was going to run past me or between my legs unless I did something fast. I threw my body down, flat out across the channel. The fish headed back upstream.
    I got up and ran after it. This time the char tried to force its way through the ankle-deep water at the head of the channel. I leaped on it and pinned it with my forearm, then bashed its head with a rock.
    I held up that silvery char for my brother to see. Ryan got all excited and yelled, “BRAVO, LITTLE BROTHER!” from across the river. I kind of liked him calling me that.
    I took out my hunting knife and cut a filet from either side of the backbone. The red flesh was absolutely delicious. It was a shame big brother missed out.
    We kept going. I felt stronger even though I was still bleary from exhaustion. By noon the upper valley of the Firth was pinching to a close with mountain slopes crowding both sides of the river.
    After a bit we reached a spot where it got rougher yet. On Ryan’s side, a cliff rose hundreds of feet out of the river. Ryan yelled that he was going to have to climb above and around. It was up to me to search this stretch of the river for the raft. I should wait for him at the first place where it looked like he could get back to the river.
    I watched Ryan climb up the edge of a rockslide until he disappeared in the trees up above the cliff. Queasy with him gone again, I headed downriver, keeping my eye out for the raft. The terrain on my side of the Firth was getting rough, and I had to struggle to get a visual on every stretch of water. The stakes were life-and-death. There was food on the boat, not to mention the satellite phone and bear protection.
    It was maddening to try to figure out where Ryan could get back to the river. It continued to be way rough and steep on his side. I kept going on mine. At two in the afternoon the sun was blazing. I was overheating but didn’t shed my life jacket, tempted as I was to carry it in my hand. It would help protect my vitals if I got mauled by a bear.
    I was falling-down weary but kept putting one foot in front of the other. My throat was so dry I could barely muster saliva. I realized I was getting dehydrated, which was stupid with water so close at hand. I worked my way down to the river, looking upstream and down for the easiest place to drink. Upstream the bank was choked with chest-high willows. Downstream the willows thinned out.
    I turned downstream toward an open spot on the shore where a rock slab angled gently into the water—a perfect place to get a drink and even to lie down and get a little rest.
    As I approached the slab, I caught the scent of decay. That wasn’t good. I froze in my tracks and looked down the shore. Not thirty feet away, a massive, humped bear was lying asleep beside the bloody, half-eaten carcass of a bull caribou.
    In a heartbeat, I knew I was in a deadly predicament. Without taking a breath, I looked over my left shoulder to make certain of my escape route.
    Before I made my move, I looked back at the bear.
    Too late . The grizzly was awake and staring right at me. The bear erupted in a full-throated roar. In an instant, it was on its feet, charging me with terrifying speed.
    You don’t run from a charging grizzly, but this was no bluff charge. This bear was protecting a carcass and out of its mind with rage. I took one, two steps. Another instant and the bear would be on me. I had only one