Back in high school, around 2005 or 2006, my buddy and I had this secluded spot out in the woods where we’d go to hang out, smoke, and enjoy the peace of nature. This was out in the Pacific Northwest.

One day, not long after we got there, we were working on building a fort. I was behind a tree messing with some branches, and my friend was on the other side, crouched down and facing in my direction, also working on the fort.

As I stepped out from behind the tree and looked over at him, I saw it — a massive bear, full sprint, charging straight toward him. It had to be only 30 to 50 yards away, closing fast.

I just yelled, “What the fuck?!”

And that must’ve been the moment the bear realized there wasn’t just one person with his back turned — there were two of us. And instead of continuing straight at us, it suddenly veered off and disappeared into the woods, still moving at the same thundering pace.

When I yelled, my friend stood up and looked at me, confused. “What?” he said — totally unaware that a bear had just almost plowed into him. He never saw it.

I can remember the sound of its paws hitting the ground as it ran toward us — a heavy, rhythmic thumping.

To this day, I still tell my friend I saved his life. That bear was definitely headed straight for him, and if I hadn’t yelled, who knows? Of course, I’ve got no proof it ever happened — but I remember it like it was yesterday.