It was a snowy night in the Kodiak. The icicles were dangerously sharp. Margaret knew to beware of these perilous masses of ice. Frank, her husband, had warned her of the hazardous walk around the house. The long narrow daggers hung within killing reach each time one would walk under their deathly gaze. Margaret always feared the icicles taking garbage out, and tonight she stopped to look for the icicles when she heard a cracking noise. The cracking wasn’t ice, it was her femur in the bite of a grizzly bear. Frank had never mentioned fearing the grizzly bear.
