They set the couch under the large photo of the polar bear that had stalked his unit six years ago while on maneuvers near Deadhorse. "Arctic training," he said when new friends came by. "Get your feet off my table," Iris said to his friends. "The bear was about to charge," Eric said. "Thirty miles per hour." The friends stared. The bear looked so alive in its frame, forever panting toward the lens, open-mouthed, pigeon-toed. "But why kill him?" Iris said, passing out beers. "Why not shoot high? Just scare him off?" "Survival of the fittest," Eric said. "Us or him," said his friends. They nodded, looked Iris up and down. She still wore ruffled cuffs for company. Her skirts were still very short. "Big man," she said. "Five years in Alaska," Eric said, "and she's a self-appointed expert on bears." "Fuck off," she said. Excerpted from Get 'em Young, Treat 'em Tough, Tell 'em Nothing by Robin McLean All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.