"I smell like a bear?" he gave his pit a sniff and then shrugged. "Well, still findin' things out. About the first month and then some, I was hungry almost constantly to the point where I devoured a rotten deer down to the bones. Then came across a bunch of Murfrees that had attacked some poor bastard's camp. Would have eaten them too if they hadn't shot and killed the horses..."

He ate both poor dead beasts down to nothing before he was sated enough. But at least he hadn't gone for the humans.

He shook himself a little to rid himself of the thought. "After I got my bearings-" he cringed at the unintended pun and paused a moment before continuing, "I stole some clothes and came here. The Veteran who owned this place, Hamish Sinclair, he and I met a couple times prior to the whole bear business. Didn't tell him what I was but he lent me a gun and we went hunting again, couple times. Hunted, fished, talked a lot too. Anyway the final time we went huntin', the boar that had been plaguing folk around here turned up and, well, he got gored and didn't make it. He asked me to take care of his horse Buell and, I took over his place after burying him, figure he wouldn't mind and its out of the way enough to avoid attention."

Stew done, Arthur got up and ladled portions into bowls for both of them, slicing some bread to have with it and taking up an old bottle of whiskey, setting it down between them.