“Frank, frank, frank, frank!” I cursed as I ran through the forest.

  The crashing sounds were right on my heels. I could practically feel the furry bastard breathing down my neck with every grunt and pant as he chased me.

  Straight ahead, I spotted a huge-ass tree. Not that I could climb fast, but the tree looked large enough that the bear wouldn’t be able to knock it over easily.

  “Dick, can bears climb trees?!”

  “Yes.”

  “Goddammit,” I said and kept running.

  Just as I passed the stupid tree, a clawed paw swiped me from the side. It knocked me off my feet and threw me into the thick timber. My shoulder and head hit first.

  [Your Intellect has dropped to level 23.]

  I hadn’t realized how easy it was to get a concussion. But Critical Thinking had saved me from taking most of the damage.

  The furry bastard charged me with an open maw. I had enough time to palm his muzzle and push it to the side as he snapped at me. His furry ass still barreled into me, but I was on his shoulder, not stuck between his teeth.

  Another powerful swipe batted me from behind. Not the best angle for him, but it still chunked my Vitality.

  His jaws snapped behind me, close enough to catch on my jacket. I slipped out as the furry bastard yanked it off me, mauling it to shreds.

  “Come on!” I slugged him in the shoulder as hard as I could. “That was brand new…”

  Now pinned against his shoulders, I was in the perfect position for a bear hug.

  “Dick, how long does rage last?” I croaked as the bar-bear-ian hugged the ever-unliving crap out of me.

  It’s a good thing I don’t need to breathe, I thought, as he squeezed me tighter.

  Crack!

  Not needing to breathe became an increasingly pertinent fact when my ribs started snapping. The resulting bone shards shredded my lungs.

  Suddenly, the cracking stopped, and the furry bastard let out a waning moan. He collapsed on top of me.

  “Frank, it’s done raging.”

  No shit, Sherlock, is what I wanted to say. But I was stuck under an exhausted bar-bear-ian with a set of collapsed lungs.

  I felt around for something, anything, that’d let me pull myself from under the panting giant. My fingers slipped around the girthiest root I could find, and then I pulled for all I was worth, dragging myself free.

  But I wasn’t done. With the billy in hand, I started clubbing the furry bastard’s skull. Each crack of the nightstick earned me another groan from the poor bastard.

  “Frank,” I cursed as the club snapped after only a couple dozen whacks. I grunted, tossing the useless stick aside.

  I’d drawn plenty of blood, and he probably had the worst headache of his life, but he was still breathing.

  I growled. “Damn, sure would be nice if I could use Skullcracker in combat…”

  “You need to hurry, Frank. He’s going to get up soon.”

  I switched it up and started booting his jaw. If I couldn’t get through his thick skull this time around, at least I could make it so he couldn’t eat me.

  His jaw came undone at the same time as I heard the wet snap of ligaments and bone. Now each of his heavy breaths spurted red mist.

  A semi-conscious, franked-up roar escaped his slack jaw. That was my sign to run again.

  He rose to his feet, crimson strings dripping from his broken maw. And just like before, he reared up on his hind legs, roared, and enveloped himself in red. Well, I had assumed he was all red. Looking back to find out wasn’t part of my plan. I figured I was right when it sounded like the forest was coming down around me again.

  I had to keep finding alternative paths through the forest; the furry bastard’s wake was filled with felled trees that would slow me down too much. But I might have caught a break.

  Up ahead, I saw a ravine that looked close enough for me to jump. I booked it, pouring everything I had into my pounding footfalls as I bounded toward the gap.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The bar-bear-ian had almost caught up to me. I planted my last step just before the ledge and leapt with all my might.

  [Your Leaping skill has increased to level 1.]

  I landed on the other side as the furry bastard skidded to a halt on the previous side. Well, landed was a bit of a stretch. It was more like the top half of me made it across while I had to scramble to drag the rest of my undead ass up and over the cliff.

  But I was on one side while the bar-bear-ian was on the other. I flipped him the bird and grinned.

  He laughed. I could have sworn the motherfranker said a God’s-honest “Heh.” He went over to a fat tree, got on two legs behind it, bounced back, and then pushed it. He repeated it as I heard the timber crack.

  “Shit.” My grin dropped.

  He was making a damn bridge. I didn’t wait and took off running again. The top of the tree still clipped me as it came down, scratching up my face even more, but not enough to trigger my feat.

  I heard a wet, gurgling roar. The ground trembled under his weight again as he gave chase.

  “How much time?” I demanded as I hurdled an old fallen tree. Hopefully Dickhead had been keeping track.

  “About forty-five seconds,” he said.

  That was forty-five too many. The bar-bear-ian had caught up to me. I switched it up on him, doing the last thing he’d expect.

  I charged back at him.

  While I might have caught him off guard, it was still my 210 pounds verses his 800.

  I ran up the incline of another fallen tree, hoping it wouldn’t collapse under me as I attempted to leap onto his back.

  His clawed paw barely missed me as I sailed over his shoulder and landed on his back.

  [Your Grappling skill has increased to level 2.]

  I hung on for dear unlife as he tried to buck me off.

  “About. Damn. Time,” I muttered at the notification.

  His thick fur coat gave me more than plenty to grip. He reared up and practically threw himself backward into a damn tree.

  [Your Intellect has dropped to level 22.]

  The furry bastard had me pinned. He landed on all fours and did it again, stripping off bark with the back of my head.

  [Your Intellect has dropped to level 21.]

  “Knock it off!” I yelled.

  I debated letting go to save myself another headshot, but a stray paw caught me by the arm. His claws caught, and he yanked me. Hard.

  But I held on just as tight.

  It was a battle of will and of brawn. Then I heard the snaps of leather giving way.

  “Shit.” I tried to hold out a bit longer. But a slurping pop followed as the furry bastard tore off my damn arm.

  “Come on!” I shouted. “I just had that reattached.”

  Then I felt his body go limp, and he collapsed again.

  I stared down at my stump and wondered if this was going to be a recurring issue. If so, I’d need to see if the doc gave a discount if I paid in advance.

  The last time he went down, I had about a minute and a half to wail on him. And by the looks of it, I wouldn’t survive another round of chase Frank through the franking woods.

  That’s when I spotted it—my savior. I just hoped it wasn’t too big. I went over and used my boot to kick the dirt from around the rock I’d found. The good news was it came up and wasn’t too big for me to pick up. The bad news was I only had a minute and one good arm to finish the job.

  With man’s oldest tool, I went to work bashing in the bar-bear-ian’s skull.

  “Frank…” Dickhead said, warning me that my time was running out.

  “I know…” I brought the rock down for another squishy crack.

  “Frank,” he said more urgently.

  “I know.” I smacked the beast again.

  “Frank!” he shouted.

  Slurred grunts escaped the bear’s wrecked mouth as he moved to get up again. Not done, I dropped on top of the furry bastard, wrapping my legs around his neck to slow him from getting up.

  “I know!” I yelled back as I smashed the rock down with every ounce of Strength I had.

  The blow landed.

  His skull caved.

  We both dropped to the ground in a heap.

  [You’ve earned: 300 XP.]

  [You’ve gained: 1 FrankUp coin.]

  [You’ve unlocked: resource node: timber.]

  I slid off the newly made carcass, looking for my arm.

  “You consider that ‘a tougher-than-average NPC’?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t considered the added abilities a class would grant it.”

  “That asshole was a straight-up boss fight. Minus the damn cheat mechanic.”

  I didn’t see my arm anywhere.

  Frowning, I said, “Dammit, he must be on top of it.”

  I dropped to the ground and reached under him, jamming myself under to see if I couldn’t find my arm without having to roll his dead ass over.

  “Dick,” I said with a grunt. “How do I loot this guy?”

  “It’s a bear, not a guy. Unless you’ve got an ability to process the carcass, you can’t.”

  I kicked, pushing myself to reach further.

  “What do you mean by process?”

  “Skinning the hide, harvesting organs, carving the meat, abilities like that.”

  I wouldn’t need any of that crap. I just needed a bit of brains to heal up, and I’d be on my way. Just as soon as I found my damn arm.

  “Aha! Got it.” Taking hold of my other hand, I dragged it out.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumbled.

  The stupid bar-bear-ian got leaves, dirt, and fur all over it. I smacked off the debris, cleaning it up the best I could, but it was still filthy. Hopefully, the doc could clean it up before slapping it back on.

  I didn’t have to check my Vitality to know it was in the red. Thankfully, I’d already busted his thick-ass skull open.

  I scooted my way to his cracked head, grabbed a handful, and tossed it into my mouth. Something was wrong. The taste was horrible: metallic, bitter, with hints of ammonia, like I had a mouthful of metal that someone had pissed on.

  Forcing myself to swallow had been a grave mistake. My hand flew to my mouth to stop the purge, but all that did was spray my projectile vomit straight back into my face.

  Black chunks of partially chewed bear ran down my face, neck, and chest, ruining my brand new shirt. I felt so gross that I nearly puked again.

  “Goddammit.” I coughed up the rest. “What the hell was that?”

  “I still can’t see for a few more minutes,” Dickhead reminded me. “What happened?”

  I spat out another chunk.

  “I just choked and then puked up bear brains.”

  “Gross… You know zombies only eat human brains, right?”

  “Well, I do now…” I sighed and took off my damn shirt, using it to get myself cleaned up. Good thing clothes were cheap.

  “Can Jesus get to work on the resource node now?”

  “Unfortunately, no. You’ll have to assign him at your Lair terminal first.”

  It could wait; I didn’t want to burn my gravekey until after I got patched up. I slipped my arm into my inventory and looked around. I didn’t see the portal exit.

  “Frank it,” I said, taking out a hearthrune. It broke when I dropped it.

  [Exiting resource node: timber. Please wait…]

  [Welcome to Safe Harbor.]

  I marched up to the bar shirtless.

  The bartender smiled at my approach. “You know what they say: no shirt, no shoes…” Her grin grew. “No problem. What can I get for ya, darlin’?”