by Erin Hunter
“We’d be happy to,” Kallik said. “Right, Ujurak?” He nodded. Kallik dug a small hollow in the snow where Iniq could curl up, and then set her paws to the snowdrift. It was perfect for a den—tall, thick, easy to dig through—apart from the troubling reddish stains on the snow. Kallik dug with her big paws and packed the walls as tightly as she could. Ujurak tried to help, but he kept knocking over her careful piles, so she sent him to sit beside Iniq and keep her company.
The fog still hung around them. There was no change in the low level of light beyond the fog. Kallik tried sniffing to see if the no-claw smell was any lighter, but the thick scent of the haze hid everything.
She was packing the last bits of snow around the wall, when Iniq crept up the tunnel behind her. Kallik didn’t notice until Iniq breathed out a happy sigh.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” said the she-bear.
“Helping other bears feels good,” Kallik said, glancing at Ujurak as he wriggled into the den behind them.
Iniq looked at Ujurak, too. “Are you—no, you can’t be. I heard there were four.”
“Four what?” Ujurak asked, his ears perking up.
“Well.” Iniq looked embarrassed. “There’s a rumor on the ice this season…. Other bears have been saying that there are four bears out here, traveling together. But only one of them is white—the others are brown and black! So I just wondered…because you’re a brown bear…but maybe it’s just a story.”
“No, it’s true,” Kallik breathed. Other bears knew about them! “There was another brown bear and a black bear with us. But they’ve gone back to the land—it was too dangerous for them out here.”
Ujurak’s head drooped and he turned to the wall as if he didn’t want Kallik to see the sadness in his eyes.
“I’m only alive because another bear helped me,” Iniq admitted. “My mother died when I was very young. I thought I was going to die, too…but then I met a bear who let me eat the scraps of his prey. He didn’t like to talk much. But at least he didn’t eat me. And by watching him, I learned to hunt, too.”
“I’m sorry about your mother,” Kallik said. “I still miss mine. She used to tell us all the stories about Silaluk while we were curled up in a den just like this one.”
“Silaluk?” Iniq echoed.
“The Great Bear in the stars,” Kallik explained. She felt a shiver in her fur as she remembered that that was Ujurak’s mother.
“I don’t know those stories,” Iniq said, lying down on the snow. Her eyes clouded with sorrow. “I have nothing to tell my cubs.”
Kallik took a deep breath. She could smell that the fog was still heavy outside. “I could tell you about Silaluk, if you want,” she offered.
“Really?” said Iniq, lifting her nose a little way off the floor. “But you’ve already been so kind….”
“I’d like to,” Kallik insisted, settling down next to Iniq so their fur brushed together. “I haven’t told these stories in a long time. Let me think about how it begins…oh, I remember.
“A long, long time ago, long before bears walked the earth, an enormous river of ice shattered into pieces, scattering tiny bits of ice across the darkness of the sky. Each of those spots of ice became the final home for the spirit of a white bear. If you are good, and brave, and strong, one day your spirit may join them.” She woofed with amusement. “That’s how my mother always started, anyway, with me and my brother.”
She thought for a moment, then went on. “When you look carefully at the sky, you can see a pattern of stars in the shape of the Great Bear, Silaluk.” Kallik glanced at Ujurak, who was listening quietly with his paws tucked under him. His eyes shone when she talked about his mother. “She is running around and around the Pathway Star.”
Kallik paused, but no one said anything. This was normally where Kallik herself, when she was a cub, would have jumped in to start asking questions, but of course Iniq and Ujurak didn’t know which questions to ask.
“Silaluk is being chased by three hunters,” Kallik went on. She shivered as she thought of the no-claw hunters who had chased her and her friends over Smoke Mountain. “The hunters are Robin, Chickadee, and Moose Bird, and they chase her for many moons, all through the warm days, until the end of burn-sky. Then, as the warmth begins to leave the earth, they finally catch up to her and strike the fatal blow with their spears. The blood of the Great Bear falls to the ground, and everywhere it falls the leaves on the trees turn red and yellow.”
Kallik heard a small intake of breath from Ujurak. Even though it was a story, she could imagine that he didn’t like hearing about his mother’s death. She hurried on to the rest of it.
“Silaluk dies, but she doesn’t stay dead. All through the long, cold months of snow-sky, Silaluk’s skeleton lies buried under the ice. But then burn-sky returns, and the Great Bear is reborn as the ice melts and the bear spirits are freed into the sky. And then the three hunters gather, and the hunt begins all over again.”
“Wow,” Iniq said in a hushed voice. “Your mother must have been very wise. You were lucky to have her.”
“Your cubs will be lucky with you, too,” Kallik said. “You can tell them that story and show them Silaluk in the sky. Just look for the stars in the shape of a bear, circling the brightest star in the sky—that’s the Pathway Star.” Kallik turned to Ujurak, wondering what he was thinking. She half expected him to tell her that the stories were all wrong, that nothing like that had ever happened to his mother. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know if the stories weren’t true.
But Ujurak just murmured, “The Great Bear is all things to all bears. That’s what makes her so important.” He leaned against the snowy wall and closed his eyes. Kallik wondered if he was missing his mother as much as she missed Nisa.
She looked down at her paws. They looked as if they were trembling…until she realized that it was the ice underneath her that was moving. “What—” she started to say, but she was cut off by a rumbling, crashing noise from outside the den.
All three bears exchanged alarmed glances. The ice was vibrating furiously now. Kallik slipped as she jumped up and scrambled toward the entrance. The other two followed her as she pushed her way into the open air. The fog was a little thinner, but she couldn’t see the source of the loud noise.
“What is it?” she shouted to Ujurak.
“I don’t know!” he yelped.
Horror flooded through Kallik. It sounded a lot like the roar of a firebeast—along with a crashing and cracking that she’d never heard before, as if an entire forest were falling down around them.
“Run!” Ujurak roared. “We have to run! Now!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ujurak
Ujurak’s fur stood on end.
“You have to run!” he heard Kallik shouting at Iniq. The smaller white bear bundled into Iniq’s side, shoving her away from the den and the approaching sound.
“I can’t!” Iniq cried. “My legs won’t carry me!” She stumbled weakly in the snow.
“You have to!” Ujurak bellowed. “It isn’t safe!”
“RUN!” Kallik shouted again, snapping her teeth at Iniq’s paws.
“My den!” Iniq wailed. She looked back over her shoulder as they pushed her forward. “My cubs!”
“Your cubs will grow up safely somewhere else!” Kallik insisted. “But not if you don’t get out of here!”
Finally Iniq’s paws seemed to start working again, and she scrambled along beside them as they ran. Ujurak gazed blindly into the mist. Where should they run to? Was anywhere safe? He couldn’t even tell which direction the noise was coming from.
“Not that way!” Kallik barked, skidding to a halt. “It’s getting louder over there!” She drove Iniq around and started running again, bolting away from the rumbling in the ice.
Ujurak ran until the ice stopped shaking beneath his paws, and then he slid to a halt, scattering snow around him. Kallik and Iniq stopped a few bearlengths away. They all looked back, gasping f
or air.
Out of the gloomy, horrible-smelling, reddish-brown mist slid a massive firebeast unlike any Ujurak had ever seen before. At first he thought it must be sliding across the ice, but when he looked closer, he realized that it was floating in the water and smashing the ice in front of it to get through. Its sharply pointed front end forced a path through by riding up and over the ice, then crushing and breaking the sheet with its own weight. Behind the firebeast was a narrow lane of open blue water edged with jagged pieces of ice.
Kallik gasped. Her claws sank into the snow, and Ujurak could see her shoulders shaking with fear. He could imagine how she felt—the ice seemed so solid, so firm beneath their feet. It was horrifying to realize there were firebeasts that could smash through her world so easily.
“The spirits,” she whispered. Kallik believed the spirits of dead bears lived in the ice below them as well as in the stars. So this was even worse—a violation of the spirits’ home, destroying Kallik’s ancestors and protectors along with the ground she stood on.
The terrible grinding noise of the firebeast roared across the ice, nearly deafening them. Ujurak could smell the firebeast clearly now, too, its scent sharper and smokier than the red-brown mist. The mist was finally beginning to lift, and in the distance he spotted another firebeast following the first one. It was laden with blue and red cubes, and it trailed along the path the first ship had made.
Ujurak padded up to Kallik and leaned against her, trying to be comforting.
“That beast is stronger than the ice,” Kallik whimpered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t know anything like that existed.” Beside her, Iniq crouched low to the ground. Her expression was equally terrified.
“It may seem that way,” Ujurak said. “But remember, the ice always returns. Every snow-sky, there it is again, no matter how many firebeasts try to smash it down.”
“I hope so,” Kallik said softly.
“I can’t use that den now,” Iniq said. She nodded at the drift of snow in the distance. “It’s too close to the path of the firebeast. And it was so beautiful!” She buried her nose in Kallik’s fur.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Kallik said. “I’ve never seen a firebeast like that.”
“I have,” Iniq said with a shudder. “The no-claws and their firebeasts come here more and more to open up paths of water through the ice. Their noise and stench have made me move on before.” She sighed. “I need to find somewhere safe for my cubs to be born, far away from the firebeasts.”
Ujurak saw the sad look on Kallik’s face. He knew she wanted to help. He wanted this bear and her cubs to be safe, too. He guessed that Kallik was also trying to replace Lusa—without realizing it, she was looking for another friend to save. But they didn’t have time to wander the ice searching for a safe home for every bear. They had to keep moving. Couldn’t Kallik understand that their mission was more important than one bear? That if they succeeded, it would help save all bears?
Suddenly Kallik lifted her head. “I think I smell seal,” she said, inhaling deeply. “I’m going to check. I’ll be right back.” She padded away, sniffing intently.
Iniq lay down in the snow and rested her head on her paws. “You’re lucky to have each other,” she said. “I’ve always loved being on my own. But now, knowing that I’ll soon have cubs depending on me—it all seems so much harder, somehow. Especially with the firebeasts everywhere. How can I bring cubs into a world like this?”
“Maybe it won’t always be like this,” Ujurak said. He wished he had his mother’s strength and wisdom. If she were here, she’d know exactly what to say.
It wasn’t long before Kallik came back, dragging a seal carcass. Her jaws were stained red. She dropped it at Iniq’s paws. “This is for you and your cubs,” she said. “I wish we could do more to help, but we have to keep going.”
Ujurak met Kallik’s gaze and nodded, glad that she understood.
Iniq’s eyes widened at the fat seal flopped across her paws. “I haven’t had seal in days!” she said. She gave them a sideways look as if she expected them to take it away from her again, and Kallik nodded reassuringly. Iniq tore hungrily into the newkill. Ujurak thought she might be hungrier than he had ever been in his life.
“Good-bye,” Kallik said softly, backing away from Iniq. “May Silaluk watch over you.”
Iniq didn’t seem to have heard. Her claws ripped into the seal flesh as she wolfed it down.
Ujurak and Kallik turned toward the sun and began to walk again. Ujurak was trying to figure out how to tell Kallik that she’d done a good thing by giving Iniq some hope. But after half a skylength, Kallik turned to him with her normally gentle eyes blazing.
“How can it be like this?” she demanded. “Why should the no-claws destroy the ice? It isn’t fair!”
“We’re going to stop them,” Ujurak reminded her. “That’s what we’re trying to do.”
Kallik shook her head. “I don’t see how,” she muttered.
He couldn’t imagine how, either. All he knew was that they had to keep going. His mother was waiting, and somewhere out there, he’d find a way to save the wild.
He had to.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Toklo
The reddish mist still hung over the ice, making Toklo’s fur feel sticky and heavy. They had walked for most of the day without finding anything to eat, and Toklo couldn’t smell anything except the haze.
He lifted his head as a cool breeze parted the mist for a brief moment, ruffling his fur. He squinted. There was something dark on the edge of the sky—something that wasn’t just more white snow and ice. His heart leaped.
“Lusa!” he barked. “Do you see that? Tell me I’m not imagining it!”
Next to him, Lusa stood up on her back paws and peered through the haze. “What do you think it is?” she asked.
“Land!” he said. “Isn’t it? It must be. Look how close we are!”
Lusa’s ears twitched. “Maybe,” she said. “I hear something…like a rumbling or a grinding. Could it be coming from the land?”
Toklo couldn’t hear anything. “I’ll be able to tell when we get closer,” he said. His paws felt lighter as he started walking again, speeding up to a trot. “Come on—maybe we’ll even be able to sleep on land tonight!”
As they galloped across the snow, slipping on bare patches of ice, Toklo strained his ears to catch what Lusa had picked up. After a while he began to hear it. It sounded like a low grumbling, like a giant bear muttering to himself. And they were definitely heading toward it.
Lusa gave him an anxious glance. “Are you sure this is safe?” she panted. “A noise like that makes me think maybe we should run away.”
“It’s probably firebeasts,” Toklo pointed out, although his fur tingled. “You know how their roaring carries. And if it is, that means they’re on the land, and we’re going the right way.” He bumped her side. “We’ll go around them when we get there. Don’t worry about it.”
Suddenly Lusa skidded to a stop. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Toklo, look!”
The flat, smooth snow they’d been running across ended after a few more bearlengths. After that, the ice was broken into large chunks, drifting on a dark, frozen river.
The two bears stood at the edge of the ice, looking down into the rippling darkness. Uneasiness prickled through Toklo’s fur. He didn’t want to swim again—to risk orcas, drowning, and being trapped under the ice. But it looked as though they didn’t have a choice. The land he’d seen was hidden again by the haze, but he knew it was ahead of them.
“This makes sense,” he said, trying to sound confident for Lusa. “Remember, the ice was all broken up around the land. It must mean we’re near the shore, that’s all. We won’t have to swim far before we get there.”
“Really?” Lusa asked, dipping one paw into the water. She pulled it out and licked it, then shivered. “Blech. This water tastes horrible. Not just salty, but worse, somehow, like firebeasts.” She pawed at her tongue.
/> “Well, the plan is to swim in it, not drink it!” Toklo pointed out. Lusa made a face at him. “Let’s go now, while it’s still light enough to see.” Light enough to watch for orcas, he thought. His eyes scanned the water for black fins, but he didn’t see any signs of them.
Taking a deep breath, he slipped into the water and let out a yelp as the bone-chilling cold soaked into his fur. A quiet splash and another yelp told him that Lusa was right behind him. She surged up alongside him and they began to paddle with their paws, trying to keep their noses above the water. A wave swamped some of the seawater into Toklo’s mouth and he spat, disgusted. Lusa was right—this water was worse than the salty seawater they’d swum in before. It tasted of firebeasts and black stuff and smoke.
It’s because we’re near the shore, he told himself again. That’s where most of the firebeasts are, so of course they’ve made the water taste like this. But he felt a nagging doubt as he searched the sea for orcas, and he hoped that there were some bear spirits—white or brown—around to help guide them to the land.
A large blue chunk of ice bobbed in front of them, and they swam toward it gratefully. Lusa sank her claws into the side and Toklo gave her a boost to help her up. He heaved himself onto the ice and they sat, panting, for a few moments. The ice chunk was a few bearlengths long, with jagged edges as if it had been violently hacked away from the rest of the ice.
“Oh, look,” Lusa said, scrambling to her paws. She padded over to the far side of the ice chunk and Toklo realized there was something small lying there. Lusa prodded it with one claw.
He padded over to join her. “It’s a bird!” he said in surprise.
It looked like the gray and white birds that were always screaming annoyingly along the shore. This one was definitely dead.
Lusa poked it again. “Do you think we can eat it?”
Toklo sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. “It smells sort of nasty in a flat-face way, but I think it’s still newkill, not rotfood.” His stomach rumbled. “I guess we can,” he said.