Karen is just a nose away from the hulky bear whose posture in is kill mode. Anyone knows this from watching the bear channel. Her friend, Lucille, is taking the photo with her scarlet fingernails like claws against her phone.
This whole scene is as loose as the cheese that dripped off the bear meat burgers the two women ate just before trudging up this side of the mountain.
Lucille is chirping, “stop fussing. That bear is posed just perfect.” She empties her flask of whisky into her mouth, holds it like a victory flag up to the moon which is white and full as a bead on black velvet. And there, the bear in the white shine of it, is all blistered with hunger and standard revenge. You eat my kind, I eat yours.
It’s clear he would say this. This is also something you learn from the bear channel. But the fact is, right now, his mouth is full of Karen, and just feet away, Lucille is shuffling around trying to get the perfect shot.