“Well, brave Ser Lee, he ran away!”
He’s gaining on you in an instant, one lunge of those powerful black paws turning him into a hateful blur. In response you kick your foot back, getting a solid connection with a nearby oak that gets you out of the way of his second lunge.
“Bravely ran away, away!”
The third swipe tears off a chunk of a tree and eviscerates a skeletal copy of you so recently born.
“When danger reared its ugly head.
He bravely turned his tail and fled.”
In a blast of brilliance, you hurl a ball of concentrated stench down his flaring nostrils, sending the beast reeling.
“He very quickly turned about
He very bravely chickened out!”
“Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Stanley”
You wince at using your full name, but you’d sooner the world know than break the flow of your song or your stride as you hurdle along your way, over roots and beneath branches, vaulting this time with extra care of sleeping bears.