Albert didn't know why he kept going camping. Sure, it was nice being out in nature. The scenery was always lovely. The air was fresh. It was quiet. He had time to read and fish and admire things and just be. It was a great change of pace from work and the city. Nothing but him and his gear and the woods.

The downside was that it was just him and his gear and the woods. The days were fine, but the nights were another story. At night the woods became very dark and very loud. Twigs snapping and animals snarling and owls hooting.

Every night he cowered in front of his campfire before exhaustion finally forced him into his tent for a tentative night's sleep. Fortunately the air agreed with him and he usually still managed to feel rested by the morning. Part of him thought it was the relaxation and occasional nap during the day that got him through it.

This night was no exception. It was a quarter past midnight and he was still huddled in front of the fire, his back to the tent which was set up in front of a tree. He didn't believe in firearms, but he did believe in survival, so he had taken to keeping his hatchet right next to him as he sat. He really needed to occupy himself with something other than paranoia, but it seemed to be his favorite hobby.

A twig cracked off in the distance. He clutched the hatchet and started to jump to his feet, but backed off. His heart had almost returned to normal when another twig cracked, then another. There was no doubt they were getting closer. Something was coming to his camp.

He leapt to his feet, knees trembling, and clasped his weapon with both in front of his chest. He squinted into the darkness and tried to make out what was approaching. Leaves shuffled and crackled. Albert was genuinely terrified.

Then he saw a flash of light about ten feet away. He couldn't tell what it was, just a faint yellowish reflection about three feet off the ground. His mind worked faster than his eyes and quickly surmised that it must be a bear approaching. There was no way he'd be able to fight off a bear. He took off running.

It didn't take him long to lose the hatchet as he plowed through bushes and crashed into low hanging branches, but he wasn't about to try and search for it. Sticks scratched his arms and face as he ran. With all the noise he was making, he wasn't sure if the bear was following him.

A large root tripped him and he fell on his face into some wet leaves. Panting, he froze and listened for any indication as to whether or not he was alone.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a nearby voice said, "Looks like you didn't get away."