A Game of Bear and Mouse

The bear broke free, dragging chains and broken branches behind it. I hadn’t planned for this. All I could do was run, which was a bad idea, because the bear gave chase.

You can’t outrun a bear. Not for long at least.

I sprinted into the nearest alleyway, narrowly avoiding a swipe inches away from taking off my head. It was far too narrow for the bear, and it gave up trying to force its way in after a few failed attempts. Good thing too, as this had given Klara and the others ample time to escape.

Some brave guards emerged from cover and began firing at it. The musket balls and crossbow bolts may have done little but enrage the beast, but it did give me a moment to catch my breath.

I should have thought of a retreat plan… I took another labored breath. I’ll have to remember for next time…

Okay, think… think. I found myself wishing I had taken some combat spells from the store—the only books I had on hand were random cantrips and my prototype.

The prototype’s effect is explosive (theoretically), but only on the targeted object. But I can't target the bear, not while it’s moving. Maybe I could collapse a building on it? No, at least not here; there are too many people hiding indoors.

I noticed the bait meat had already been reeled back through a third-story window.

If we drop the bait now, perhaps it’ll stop and eat it? No, we didn’t have much bait in the first place, and I doubt the bear can stay still now. Maybe we can tire it out first. Move it somewhere else to avoid collateral damage. But where?

I mentally reconstructed the town from where I stood, searching for such a place. A large unpaved lot nearby, only three blocks away.

Too open? No, there isn’t anywhere else.

“Whoever has the bait, can you hear me?” I shouted. “Bring it to the construction site!”

I wasn’t sure if anyone was even still around, but a thumbs up from an upper floor window confirmed that my plan was heard.

Simultaneously, the brave (or perhaps foolish) guards were now busy scrambling into the nearest unlocked building or cellar and bolting the door.

Its prey now gone, the bear once again turned towards me. My chance.

I dashed out of the alleyway.

My lungs burned and my little legs gave it their all. At the last moment I veered sharply into a back alley. Unable to turn in time, the bear’s momentum sent it smashing through the window of a flower shop.

Now comes the easy part. I slipped through the narrow back alleys, a trash-filled claustrophobic stone maze even I could barely fit through. I carefully navigated around broken glass bottles and uneven cobblestones, occasionally popping my head onto the main street, or casting an ice-sling cantrip (my invention) to lure the bear in the direction I needed, before ducking back to safety.

Before long, I was on a path across the lot. The bear was still slowly approaching, its movement seemingly more labored after our game of cat and mouse.

I cautiously peeked out: as I remembered, the lot was an empty sand plain, about 20-30m on each side, likely the site of a future construction project. Wooden markers were buried at regular intervals, and some crates and timber lay haphazardly scattered at the perimeter.

An idea suddenly came to mind: soil liquefaction.

I recalled having read that sandy soil like this actually holds large amounts of water, especially when near the water table. Normally, the grains of sand stack together like a pyramid of fruit at a market stall, trapping the water harmlessly within the gaps. But shake the sand hard enough, and the whole pile falls apart: the water forces its way out, and for an instant, the soil behaves more like a liquid than solid earth. Once most of the water has bubbled to the surface, the sand re-solidifies, once again assuming a compact formation.

Ok, sounds good. I just need to get closer first.

I take one more peak, before sprinting for my life across the (rather wide) street onto the unpaved lot, each step squeezing a wet splosh from the sandy soil. Wooden storefronts blurred past, their shutters drawn tightly shut. The bear gave chase, guards screaming behind me, firing from second storey windows in a fruitless attempt to slow it down.

Not long after, Klara waved to me from an upper floor window, bait hook in hand. I raised my arms and signaled a countdown for her to throw it onto the middle of the lot. At the same time, I began reciting my incantation, targeting a point five meters below the ground. If Klara didn’t get my signal, I could still stop and try again later.

She seems to have gotten the signal though, as she gave me a look of disapproval before tossing the raw slab of meat at high speed out the open window. It gracefully arced through the sky, the bear giving chase like a dog chasing a ball.

The instant the bear stopped to munch on the bait, I finished muttering my incantation. A low boom rang out from beneath the ground, before the earth itself visibly rippled like a stone dropped in a pond. The bear plunged in, desperately trying to claw its way free, but the liquified soil had already swallowed its legs—and its body along with it.

Then just as soon as it started, the ground re-solidified, trapping the bear with only its head remaining above ground.

It worked! I mean of course it worked, I am a genius after all…

The bear struggled for a bit before finally giving up, letting out a crazed whimper. I almost felt bad for it seeing it in this state, but now, it was time to put it down.

A warmth permeated my entire body, the air around me shimmering as I repeated my previous incantation, this time carefully targeting a spot somewhere within the bear’s body. The moment the final word left my mouth, I felt the accumulated mana translate from my breath into my spellbook, flowing and shifting through a labyrinth of ancient words, where it was filtered, refined, and given new form before moving towards my designated target.

Then as if hit by a cannonball, the bear exploded upwards, bone and flesh chunks shooting to the sky like a fountain. The patter of blood and the squishing of meat splashing onto rooftops was all I heard for the next few seconds as I ran for cover. Not long after, the severed head of the bear rolled to a stop before my feet.

I let out a sigh of relief. It’s finally over.

I looked down at myself. My once pristine black dress was stained with mud, several frills and ribbons having been torn or lost in my frantic run through the alley. My stockings fared no better, and my curly black hair was now caked with dirt and sweat.

I don’t look forward to explaining to Klara why I need yet another new set of clothes…

I was kicking my shoes against the wall in an attempt to shake off some dried mud, when I noticed a small piece of cloth caught between the bear’s teeth. I reached down, and after a strong pull, the scrap came free. It seems to be part of the shipment bag—perhaps part of the name of whatever was contained within, but I didn’t recognize it. I tucked it into my pocket for now; perhaps my Father could figure it out, and stepped out of the damp alleyway.

The street was utterly silent, before I noticed a shutter cautiously peek open, and then another, and another. Shortly after, the townsfolk carefully emerged from their shops and homes, and upon confirming the death of the bear, the crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

Thank you, thank you. I curtseyed. All in a day’s work.

“Uhh… Lady Rosenthorne?” A villager sheepishly asked. “I’m the flower shop owner… thank you for everything you’ve done, but…,” she trailed off, gesturing to the destroyed storefront behind me.

“Of course… I’ll cover the repairs…”

In this situation, what else could I say?

...

As Klara and I made our way to a local inn to clean up, a guard stopped by and asked me what sort of explosion spell I had cast.

“What sort of spell was that? It must have used a lot of mana, you must be starving by now.”

“Ah…. something like that… it’s an experiment I’ve been working on, still a work in progress.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to use it in the future?”

“Uhhh perhaps. It’s still very experimental and hard to control. Yes, most likely not anytime soon.”

“Oh.” The guard sounded disappointed.

“Sorry.”

Of course, that was a lie. The spell I cast was not an explosion spell. It was time reversal.