A steady stream of water rolled down the hill above the cave mouth, drizzling over the entrance and winding its way into the cave before disappearing into the earth. The pool forming beneath Gerett’s posterior was enough to make him uncomfortable but not enough to induce hypothermia. For a moment the drizzling stopped, heralding not the end of the storm but the arrival of a new occupant standing in the opening. Gerett looked up to see a black bear blocking the way out, staring at the dwarven intruder. Gerett sighed as the creature assessed what to make of him.
“Look, bear, I know this is your cave. My crossbow string is soaked and I can’t even stand up in this space, much less bring my polearm to bear. You’re a fair-sized beastie, and we’re both tired and wet. Neither of us want to fight over this sodding cave. But I will tell you I’m not going out in that cold again, so you can share your home with me for the night or you can find another bloody house.”
The bruin let out a breathy *harrumph* and shook vigorously, sending icy droplets flying into Gerett’s face.
“Staying, are ye? Here, have some hardtack. I’m sick of it anyway.”
******
Gerett scraped the mud off the soles of his boots before ducking down into the cave. He had finally gotten some dry grass down in the bottom and he had no intention of mucking it up now. The bear lay stretched out on the other side of the chamber, idly chewing on a mouse’s tail.
“One mouse and it’s quits for the day? Lazy fart. Lucky for you I grabbed extra nettles. May not taste as good as your mouse, but you’ll thank me later.” Gerett chuckled to himself. “The new recruits used to chortle under their breath when I’d munch on dandelions or currents while on the trail. But the picky ones were always the first to come to me with rumbling bellies and achy joints when we’d set up for an extended stake. We always got the long jobs—that’s what my unit was for, you see. Every lad under me would learn to find food and keep a camp ere he’d ever learn to fight. No sense laying an ambush or getting to a battlefield three days ahead of the army if the elements get to you before the enemy does.” Gerett shook his head. “They’d always pick it up soon enough. Good lads, they were. Even after they got promoted or reassigned, I know they took those skills with them. I am going to miss those boys…”
******
Gerett slung his crossbow over his shoulder and shoved his polearm out of the cave. He double checked the pack of supplies he had made and crawled out, using his pike to heft himself to his feet. “Well, I thank ye for the hospitality, but I should be moving on. My neck is getting sore of staying in that cave.” The bear uttered a low grunt as it got to its feet and followed him away from the entrance. “And what do you think you’re doing? I told ye I’m out of hardtack.
...Lonely, are ye? I haven’t seen any other bears around these parts—I was under the impression you lot liked to stay somewhat nearby each other. Well, ya’ can walk with me if you wish, for a bit. Work some o’ that fat off you. Not looking for a traveling companion right now…but when you’ve had a cadre of dwarves at your side for twenty years, it is sort of quiet being alone. Things happen, I know. I’m glad the rest of the troop was able to find work in Rockhome. I always knew it could happen—suddenly the consensus decides it’s better to shore up our defenses than to employ a vanguard on the outer borders. Not exactly a new philosophy. But when a new lord comes into his own, it’s out with the old—and a commander of a primarily offensive detail is a symbol of the old. No place in the new regime for me…
"Look, you don't want to hang around with a washed-up old dwarf like me. You've got your cave, and you'll get tired of walking in an hour or two. Me? I aim to get as far from Rockhome as possible.”