The Last Run

The Story:

The Last Run is another story drawn directly from my childhood in the Alaskan interior.  We were barely getting by.  We were hungry, short on resources, each of us carrying our share to survive.  As the oldest, the hunting fell to me.  I carried our old family rifle into the woods, knowing that bringing down a moose could feed us for a year and hold through the winter.  The rifle itself was dangerous, unreliable, but it was all we had.  The safety couldn’t be trusted.  After a few accidental discharges, every round stayed in my pocket until it was needed and a target was identified.

In time, Kia and I developed a method.  When she found an animal, she would circle just outside its range, keeping its attention while I closed the distance.  It worked.  We had done it many times, even with a moose.  This time, near the top of a hill, she caught something on the wind and broke away before I could stop her.  By the time I reached the crest and looked down, she was already actively engaged with a massive black bear.

My movement broke whatever tension had held. The bear lifted its head, then charged without warning past Kia, straight for me.  I still had no rounds in the rifle. Kia hesitated, confused, then made a choice.  She matched the bear’s pace and angled in, meaning to engage it head on, knowing what it would cost her.  I’ve never witnessed bravery like that.  As they closed the distance with me, everything slowed.  I loaded the rifle in full panic by feel, never looking down, smashing rounds into the open bolt, some falling uselessly into the snow.  I watched Kia begin her launch and leap to the bear, I knew I couldn’t wait. I slammed the bolt forward, felt the round slide home, locked the bolt as I raised the rifle - there was no time to aim, and I fired.

The Lyrics:

Frost on the window smoke thin in the air,
Sixteen years old with a weight hard to bear.
Welfare box, empty cupboards hollow too,
If I don't bring food home winter will break through.

Grandpas old rifle hangs worn on the wall,
Bolt loose, sights tired, but it wont let me fall.
Rounds in my pocket dog by my side,
Kia with bright eyes matching my stride.

Through spruce and cold silence breath like ghosts flight,
Boots crunch in the snow as the daylight dies.
Sun bleeds behind us, night takes the light,
Every step whispers I must win this fight.

Then her ears lift frozen still,
Something moves beyond the hill.
Muscles coil warning true,
Before I look shes out of view...

She runs into dark beyond the ridge,
Snow flies like fire on the wind's bridge.
I chase but I'm too slow too late,
Below I see deaths furred weight.

Kia circles round the monster's paws,
Begging for the shot we know by heart.
But the bear turns, smells my skin,
Charges fast my fear begins.

Kia pauses confused not the plan,
Bear forgets her eyes lock on the man.
Fumble with the rifle hands numb cold,
One wrong move ends it, she takes hold.

She looks back then breaks to sprint,
Every muscle death intent.

She'll take the hit meant for me,
Braver heart than eyes can see...

She runs into dark beyond the ridge,
Snow flies like fire on the wind's bridge.
I chase but I'm too slow too late,
Below I see death's furred weight.

Kia circles round the monster's paws,
Begging for the shot we know by heart.
But the bear turns, smells my skin,
Charges fast my fear begins.

Paws cut ice like sparks on stone,
Bear like thunder shakes my bones.

She closes fast a streak of light,
Fur and fire in winter's night.

I slam the bolt, round slides home,
Breath held tight hear my heart roam.
She leaps to trade her life for mine.
Blast tears winter one shot in time.

She runs into dark beyond the ridge,
Snow flies like fire on the wind's bridge.
I chase but I'm too slow too late,
Below I see death's furred weight.

Kia circles round the monster's paws,
Begging for the shot we know by heart.
But the bear turns, smells my skin,
Charges fast my fear begins.