Before Camilla could react, Fozzie jumped from behind a tree and kicked the pistol from her hand.

“What’s the matter? Had to bring a pistol to take down an unarmed bear? You some kinda’ CHICKEN ? Wokka! Wokka!”

In one fluid motion, Camilla reached into her feathers and pulled out a dagger, threw it at the bear, and dove into the thick of the wilderness.

Fozzy was slow to react, and the dagger caught him in the leg as he was trying to dodge. He fell to the ground and pulled out the knife with a yelp.

“Now I got the knife and the gun. The ball is in my court! You’re about to join the Dead Poultry Society! Wokka! Wokka!”

“Bock! Ba! Bock!” the chicken shouted from the woods.

“What? You have backup?” Fozzie said, confused.

“NEAR!” a voice shouted from behind him. He turned to meet a blue, furry fist that knocked him several feet back. When his vision cleared he could see his assailant dressed in hunting gear and pointing a rifle at him.

“FAR!” Grover said, as he pulled the trigger…