Eli Thwaites felt satisfied with his night's work. Delivering a child had a rejuvenating effect on his spirit that was without comparison. He wasn't a doctor, he was a clergyman, more to the point he was a missionary in the northern outreaches of Canada.

That didn't stop the makeshift hospital being more of his workplace than his makeshift church. It didn't stop his being a spiritual confidant and binder of broken bones at the same time. He would often find himself changing sheets and cooking food for patients, as well as preparing them for burial. His role was both teacher and judge, nurse and mayor.

Eli swallowed the view of a fabulous morning. The midnight sun had changed the bland snow to an uninterrupted lake of diamonds. His tiredness fought with common sense, such a night normally saw him crash out on a hospital bed, but happiness and sun drove him to the solitude of his bachelor pad. It wasn't much. Twenty foot by eight of ply wood and insulation board. Small but warm was preferable to grand  and opulent.

His home was once a quiet rectory in an English village, but he had left those days long ago, and followed God into a freezer. Whilst there was only three quarters of a mile between bed and work, his was still a long treck, draining five miles worth of energy in the freezing arctic summer. He was followed by the usual pack of dogs, none of them his own. They had just taken a liking to him and, being bored, decided to hang on to his ski trail just for the fun of it.

Eli began to feel uncomfortable after about a hundred yards. The dogs, normally full of discontent at this time of year because they had no work, were sullen and grumpy and a little more furtive than usual. Another hundred yards and they saw the reason for their apprehension. A massive, old male polar bear that had taken to  scavenging in it's ageing years. Cute and cuddly on the films, but in real life a bear such as this is terrifying, especially an old animal. They pose little threat to fit wildlife, but a slow moving human would be a welcome meal that would suffice him for a week.

Strangely, the dogs livened up no end when they observed the bear. It was as if they had found a toy, and rather than wince away they struck an aggressive pose. Huskies in the temperate zones are friendly enough but no one would pretend to be able to train them. In the Arctic they know only two things, how to pull and how to fight. They walk taller than their soft climate cousins, and sulk when there are no hardships. They will attack anything that isn't human or a horse. Polar bears, moose, caribou, and even packs of wolves are fair game.

Eli felt better when he saw the bear. At first he suspected that foul weather caused his discomfort. No one can fight the weather but a bear against nine dogs is no cause for concern. At first they headed him off and the bear played along with the role, but this bear was no young pup. He was in no mood for a silliness, he was hungry. He turned and stood his ground against the dogs.

The dogs at first were a little thrown. This wasn't the usual ploy. Normally an old fellow such as he would run. Neither bear nor dogs would be really troubled by the encounter. The dogs would just have one more tale to tell, and the bear would be certain that no-one would ever hear of his retreat.

After a little re-con the dogs continued with their attack but what had started as a game became more sinister as the distance between dogs and bear shrank. One dog in sheer folly threw himself across the remaining few paces only to be impaled on a savage claw, then tossed into heaven with a swipe. Uncontrolled barking consumed the wind-swept silence. A one ton white mountain of death treated paw sized dogs with disdain.

Their snapping and noise were as a fly around a cow's eyes. His intended meal was weak and feeble and only had two legs. Eli realised the bear's intention. It was too late. The hospital might as well have been a hundred miles behind, and a flimsy hut held his only sanctuary. He reached for his rifle but he was only too aware that his chances were reducing by the yard. The bear raced in with vicious determination. Eli raised his gun and fired. Nothing! Once again, nothing. The rifle was so cold that the bullet refused to ignite. He stretched out his ski poles and beat hard against the ground to gain speed but his urgency was no match for the bear's. His mind switched to survival mode and all his animal instincts became alive in the blink of an eye. It was too late. The bear caught the fabric of his jacket in the very tip of a claw. The jacket tore as if it was paper. The blow sent Eli staggering into a terrified disorientation. A claw punctured the skin of his cheek and drew down with savage cruelty. It tore a skein of blood and an inch wide band of flesh from below his eye to his jaw. Blood screamed from the wound and a triumphant shout from hell rent the air. Eli felt the flesh flopping on his face but the pain was anaesthetised by fear. He sprayed the rifle in his flaying arms, not sure where he was lashing out. A corner of the butt drew pain from the white murderer, Eli's eyes opened just long enough to see it strike below a pupil in his attackers face. For a brief second the bear stopped his onslaught. It was long enough to redirect his escape attempt. One dog hung on to the scruff of fur at the back of the bear's neck, another drew blood from his heel. The remaining six did their part to kill the predator. At best they were troublesome flies to him. His awesome strength was far more than a match now. The bear's fighting spirit was up and there would be no stopping him until he tore into his meal. Dogs were soon hanging from all parts of the bear; their combined weight only serving to slow his progress. In a terrifying jesture the bear rose to his full nine feet, dropping dogs like raindrops as he did. He shook his coat and swiped another dog to its death.

The seconds that the dogs bought were enough. Eli was free. He rammed the gun between his legs in the hope that his body would warm it enough to work. To his horror the butt hung limply from the barrel, leaving the skimpiest of mechanism to fire the trigger. His very soul was filled with screaming terror by now, and he realised that in his fear he had fouled his trousers. He had no time to feel ashamed, and the extra heat was desperately needed now. The bear lunged forward again but the distance between them was sufficient for Eli to urge the gun to warm up. He skied with his legs forced together at the top and waddled like a woman in a tight skirt from below the knees.

Dragging barking mayhem behind, the bear was still very fast.  A silent menace filled its' face as it sensed the kill. Less than two minutes had elapsed since he shoved it there, but Eli drew the gun from his crotch. He raised the weapon and pointed it backwards cowboy style, but looked to the front in blind panic as he did so. When the bear was less than six feet from him, and he could hear the gurgling sound of drool in its' throat. He squeezed the trigger. An explosion burst the gun from his hand, but he felt that surge of report telling him that at least the bullet had gone. A miracle later and the shard of lead that buried itself in the bear's chest and had just enough stopping power to slow him to a fast walking pace. The sheer force of his onslaught, however, kept the bear going.

Despite the blood streaming back into his face from the wind of his ride, Eli forced himself on. He had expected a scream from the bear but that didn't come. Instead it stopped with a querying look on its' on his face. The dogs by now were beginning to make an impact. The bear had stood long enough for Eli to make his second escape. He flew into his hut. Stumbling about in hell he fell from cupboard to floor in an effort to tie the skin of his face back in place. The pain would have sent him into deathly shock, but his adrenaline raced beyond the call of normality. He found some masking tape in a drawer, and wrapped it around his face, covering one eye in doing so.

The wood burner in the corner of his hut kept off the freeze but only raised the temperature to a bare chill. Being wet in the arctic is very dangerous so he ripped the festering fouled trousers over his boots, along with his under pants. Whilst he stumbled, naked from the waist down, he dragged drawers open for clothing. All the time he shook with fear, humiliation and shame, but he had no time for the luxury of emotions. He had no time for anything. The hut shook with a tremendous force as if a lorry had struck it. Eli cried aloud like a child. His refuge had turned into a prison. The venom flew again from the bear. He crashed against the pathetic hut. A hut that was at best weather proof. By its very nature the structure was flimsy. There was no reason to build solid when on an ice flow, and this skimpy box presented nothing to the bear. It shook the hut like a toy. Eli held on to the first thing to hand and grabbed for his hunting knife with the other. He screamed a prayer to God, tears drowning his face, and the banging of his heart pounding in his ears. In his patheticness he looked for an angel to deliver him. It was hopeless, he was too exhausted to feel tired. The bear was in a frenzy now. Roaring, and swiping at anything available. The wall of the hut shook at first and then splintered. In his power craze, he rolled the hut like a pin. Eli was inside and by now the fire had tumbled from the burner. The bunk caught light. Slowly at first, the flames licked at the bed. Then like a savage denied food for ages the fire broke into a rampant roar and joined it's voice with that of the bear.

The hut, by now, was on it's side. Eli struggled again with his fight for life, something took hold of the remnants of his spirit, and he braced himself with the knife in his hand. The gun had torn a gash in his hand as it fired. He was incurably right handed but his left hand was the only functioning part, and it shook as if to drop his weapon.

The bear climbed on top of the upturned hut, all the time pouring blood from dog bites and bullet wound. It bounced on the side as it would on the ice above a frightened seal pup. It's bulk sprung the wood and only temporarily held his weight. Six jumps later the wood collapsed. Now one ton of bear lay on it's side. The splinters pierced it's massive form. That same form pinned Eli to the floor. The bear struggled to gain it's feet. It scrabbled at the smooth side of the hut that had now become the floor. Eli was being pushed by the back of the bear as it struggled. His body was braced against the wall. The bear for his part was unable to turn his face to Eli and struggled further, pushing and tearing as he did so. He finally found himself staring into the face of the bear. But his right arm had been broken in the struggle. His left hand was free. He lashed out again and again. Striking death as the bear's head closed in on his. The bear was by now blind. The blade seared into the open cheek but still teeth and strength forced their way on. Eli thrashed and thrashed not knowing if he was striking bear or human He felt the stench of the bear's breath and the heat of the fire burning his boot. The bear raised it's head to strike. Eli had no strength, he just had enough feeling in his spirit to thrash again.

Eli lay and waited for the terrible teeth to find their mark. The moment never came. The bear's head fell. It's jaws either side of his face. There was blood and saliva pouring in a river of hot liquid over his screaming wound. It's jaws didn't close. Instead it's loose tongue dropped like a rag over Eli's nose and mouth. He continued to thrash with the knife, unaware that the teeth had not pierced him. His enemy was now suffocation, not the tearing apart that he had dreaded. The enveloping blackness smothering him was not death. He pushed at his opponent's head, it listed to one side and the tongue drifted clear of Eli's nose and mouth. Still he heaved for breath. He was being crushed by the bear's sheer weight. Even as it lay dead, the bear was still about to kill him.

The harbinger of eternity was cold, fire and weight. Freedom was inches away, but the fight was far from over. Eli could only move his left arm and his legs. He strained, his naked lower half was beginning to freeze despite the fire. The temporary break from the bear drained his strength. The dogs didn't just bark, they yelled. They tore at the bear, dragging off chunks of it's anatomy and in turn reducing the load on Eli. He, kicked, bellowed and pushed. Husky intuition drove the dogs to pull in unison. Oblivious to the flames, they responded to his calls. His freedom came in the jerking action of the dogs and terror driven strength on his own part. He strained for breath like a diver surfacing after a long spell under water, gasping air in his desperate lungs.

The fire was eating away at the remains of the hut, and now attacked the bear in it's greed. The situation was not as far beyond him, but there was still more than his feeble frame could cope with. His strength was re-surging but it was fear that finally sparked his action. Eli knew that to relax now, even for a second, spelt the end. In a moment of strength above the ordinary human means, Eli dragged himself from the fire. He grabbed the remains of his duvet. By now it was so cold the garment once drawn from the fire failed to burst in to further flames. He crawled from the debris. He was half naked, had a broken arm, his face was torn from his head, blood it seemed streamed from every  orifice and his feet were badly burnt. Despite all this he felt grateful for his life. He wept in gratitude and pain, and yet he wanted to shout out in triumph.

The dogs were in a frenzy, barking and dancing around the kill, tearing the carcase in an effort to beat the fire. He wrapped the duvet around his nudity and struggled to get upright. The searing pain in his feet was numbed by the ice. He fell several times, each time his strength sapping with the attempt. Trying to entice the dogs to give him some aid he struggled back towards the hospital. The dogs were so distracted they had abandoned their charge. Instead they gorged themselves on the flesh of his former torturer. He fell, he walked, he fell and took advantage of the freezer to kill the fire in his face. He walked and felt the pain of his arm, he fell again. At the hospital it was only a screaming dreg of humanity that alerted the staff.

His ordeal was only over after two years of surgery, and then Eli at best could only be described as ugly, but the heart that beat calmly now was stronger than any bear. His sermons, once preached to serve society, were now full of life. The cosy village of England reclaimed his services, and lived in a reverent awe of him as he limped about the lanes.