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The camera! How could you have forgotten the camera? You cast a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You could dart back and get it in no time. That’s what logic tells you, anyway. But logic can stuff it. You’re not about to give the Yeti a second chance to get away.
You start forward, but another problem itches in your mind. Evidence. Without evidence, you’ll have to go home with nothing but a story. A story that won’t garner you anything but a few sets of rolled eyes. No fame, no fortune, no future expeditions. No gloating to everyone who laughed and told you to give up on chasing your imaginary beast. You curse under your breath. You’ve got to get the camera--
Your eyes land on a softball-sized rock just inches away and another idea clicks into place. What’s better than photographic evidence? Physical evidence, of course. If you can get close enough to club the Yeti in the head, you can collect fur and skin samples and take all the pictures you want. Heck--you might be able to tie the thing up and drag it down the mountain for the whole world to see!
The thought makes a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You set your sights on the Yeti--still looming in the shadows--and scoop the rock up. You turn your weapon in your palm to get a feel for its bumpy surface and find the best grip. Satisfied, you take a faltering step toward the creature.
Fear runs through your nerves like electricity as you inch forward, making your legs quiver. What if you don’t knock it out? If that happens, you won’t have anything but a raging Yeti on your hands. Then what?
You shake those thoughts away. You’ve already wasted enough time--you don’t have the luxury of second-guessing yourself anymore.
The Yeti is sniffing around the cave’s walls, not paying you any attention at all. Perfect. You swallow the fear clogging up your throat. With just a few more steps, you’ll be close enough to whack this furry sucker and claim your prize. Your heartbeat thunders in your eardrums from an overwhelming mix of excitement and dread.
Almost...almost...
You raise the rock over your head. The light from the mouth of the cave is almost gone and you curse yourself for leaving your flashlight. Despite the darkness, you can make out the faint outline of the Yeti. It’s smaller than you thought it would be. Still freaking huge, but not the towering beast you’ve been envisioning.
You’re upon it now. The muscles in your arms go tight as you start to swing the rock down. But the Yeti straightens up and swings around. Your breath catches in your throat and terror brings your arm to a dead stop. It stares down at you, black eyes boring into your skull. If you weren’t completely petrified, you’d be making a mad-dash for the mouth of the cave, leaving no trace of yourself in this wretched cave--save the trail of urine that would probably mark your path.
The Yeti cocks its head and leans forward, sniffing at your shirt sleeve. You give a whimper reminiscent of a scolded puppy and tense in preparation for the attack you know is coming. But the Yeti doesn’t tear into you. Instead, it gives its best imitation of a smile, makes a series of high grunting noise, and nudges your wrist with its nose. It leaves a wet smear behind.
Your fear wanes and confusion rushes in to take its place. This is the gruesome man-eater you’ve spent the majority of your life searching for? This is what you endured endless laughter and teasing to find? Well...at least it’s something. You could have to go back home empty-handed.
But what do you do now? Smack it upside its head, get your samples, and hightail it home? Or maybe--just maybe--you can work up the courage to pet it.
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