by Erin Hunter
“Sounds unnatural,” the white bear grumbled. He sighed heavily and looked down at his paws. “But I guess I wouldn’t have gotten clean without them. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d need help from a no-claw.”
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it,” Lusa said.
“White bears can take care of themselves!” he snapped. “That’s how it was when I was a cub, anyway. We had skylengths of endless ice to walk without ever seeing a no-claw or firebeast. Seals practically threw themselves out of the sea for us to eat. I remember my mother telling us stories of Silaluk and teaching us to fight.” He shook his head. “She was killed by a firebeast. That was the first time I ever saw one. And they’ve just kept coming, more and more of them all the time. Now the ice is full of no-claws and their burning, choking smells and their horrible smoke.”
Lusa felt terribly sad for the old bear. His head drooped and his paws trembled with exhaustion and fear.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” he sighed finally.
“Maybe you can come with us,” Lusa offered. “My friends are going to rescue me soon. I can tell them to free you at the same time, and we’ll go out on the ice together. It’s easier with friends. Less lonely, and less scary.”
The white bear shook his head. “I don’t have the energy for it anymore,” he told her. “Everything has changed so much. It’s all so hard.” He sighed again. “Perhaps the no-claws can look after me better than I can look after myself right now.”
Lusa wished she could lean into his fur and make him feel better. She wanted to tell him that she was going to save the wild with Ujurak and the others, but she was afraid it would sound ridiculous. The way he described the changes…how could four little bears do anything about that?
“No,” the white bear said, staring at the flat-faces bustling around the pelt-den. “It’s no use.” He lay down, rested his chin on his paws, and closed his eyes. “The world I knew is gone,” he said sadly. “And it’s never coming back.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Toklo
The sun was slowly sinking below the edge of the sky. Ujurak had been inside the pelt-den the entire day, and it was driving Toklo wild with anxiety. There’d been no sign of him or Lusa. Toklo hated not knowing what was going on. He stood up and shook out his fur, scattering small wet drops of snow around him.
“Toklo, just keep still,” Kallik complained. “I’ve told you, creeping up to the pelt-den over and over again is only going to get you caught. All your pacing hasn’t told you anything yet, has it?”
“I might smell something new this time,” Toklo growled. “I’ll be right back.” He crept out from behind the chunk of ice where they’d been hiding for most of the day. They’d seen flat-faces charging in and out of the pelt-den. At one point a whole crowd of them had arrived on several firebeasts and carried a line of oil-soaked animals into the den. It had been very noisy, and the commotion inside the pelt-den afterward went on for a long time. And it still didn’t give Toklo any clues about what was happening.
Toklo was baffled. What did the flat-faces want with the sick animals? Did they love their oil so much that they had to save it any way they could—even if it meant squeezing it out of feathers and fur? He wanted to know what would happen to the animals afterward. From the scent of the pelt-den, most of them were still alive in there. Including Lusa…he kept catching her scent mingled with all the others.
He realized that Kallik was crawling along close behind him. They were only a few bearlengths from the back wall of the pelt-den at this point. The dark green wall rippled in front of them, and the high-pitched chatter of flat-face voices leaked out. Was one of them Ujurak’s?
“We should have told Ujurak to send us a sign,” he growled to Kallik. “Now we don’t even know if he remembers that he’s a bear—or why he’s in there.”
“He told us to give him some time,” Kallik said. “I’m sure he remembers. He’ll do what he promised.” She glanced at the slumbering firebeasts. “Toklo, we’re way too close. Can we please go back to our hiding spot?”
“Shhhh,” he said fiercely. “I’m listening.” He padded a few steps closer and strained his ears toward the pelt-den.
“Oh,” Kallik said in a sarcastic voice. “Wonderful. Because that will help.”
He growled at her and took another step toward the den. Of course, she was right. He didn’t want to admit it, but nothing he heard from the den told him anything. He took a deep breath in, but the smells were equally mysterious. There was no way to know what was happening inside unless he clawed open the walls himself.
He was sorely tempted to do just that. Frustrated, he pawed at the snow.
“You know what would be really unhelpful?” Kallik said. “If we got captured by flat-faces, too. That would be spectacularly useless.”
“We’re not going to—” Toklo snapped, whirling on her. But his words were interrupted by a huge roar. Toklo nearly leaped out of his skin as a firebeast only slightly bigger than him came tearing around the side of the pelt-den. Its eyes blazed and its roaring was louder than most full-grown bears. It raced at him and Kallik as if it was preparing to attack.
“Run!” Kallik shouted. She bundled into Toklo, shoving him aside as the firebeast whooshed past. They both scrambled around and bolted for the safety of the ice field. The roaring slowed behind them and then stopped. By the time Toklo and Kallik were crouched, panting, behind their chunk of ice again, the firebeast was resting outside the entrance of the pelt-den.
“It wasn’t chasing us at all,” Toklo grumbled.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have hit us!” Kallik said. “Especially since we were right in its way! Now will you settle down, please?”
Toklo bristled angrily. His frustration came boiling up from deep inside, and he bared his teeth at her. “Stop telling me what to do!” he snarled.
“Stop acting like a stupid squirrel, then!” Kallik snarled back. He realized how much bigger she’d grown than him. But he was still sure he could fight her, and this time Ujurak and Lusa weren’t there to stop them.
They were standing nose to nose, and he had his paw lifted to strike at her throat, when he saw the look on her face shift from hostile to concerned. She turned to look at the pelt-den, sniffing the air.
“What?” he asked, lowering his paw. “Do you smell something?”
“I thought I did,” she said. “I think I can tell which no-claw scent is Ujurak’s. But it’s all muddled up with the other smells in there. I wish my nose were more helpful!” She clawed at her muzzle, and he realized that she was just as worried and terrified as he was. They didn’t need to take their fear out on each other’s pelts.
Toklo took a step back and grunted with exasperation. “This is horrible,” he said.
“I know,” Kallik agreed with a sigh. She lay down and buried her nose in the snow for a moment. “I wish there was something we could do.”
“I’m the one who was supposed to look after them,” Toklo said, scraping at the block of ice. “Both of them, Ujurak and Lusa. I always take care of them. But now they’re both in danger, and here I am just hanging around like a useless lump of fur.” He remembered the star-bear’s words about one of them dying. What if Ujurak or Lusa was on the edge of death right that moment, and he was just sitting outside watching the pelt-den instead of trying to save them?
“I know how you feel,” Kallik said. “Really I do. But remember, they’re not exactly helpless, either of them. Lusa understands flat-faces…she knows all about them and she’s not even that scared of them. She’s probably doing better in there than you or I would. And Ujurak is a flat-face right now. With his powers, and guided by the spirits the way he is, he’ll know what to do. I’m sure they’ll be all right.”
Toklo grunted and lay down next to her. “We’ll see.”
“You know what we should do?” Kallik said, sitting up in a rush and spraying snow all over him. “We should hunt. We
need to keep our strength up anyway, in case we have to make a speedy escape tonight. That’s probably the best way we can help.” She nudged his side. “Besides, it’ll keep us from worrying so much. Come on.”
Toklo wanted to stay and watch the pelt-den, but as soon as Kallik had said the word “hunt,” he felt the enormous, gnawing ache in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Was it back on the floating firebeast with Lusa?
“All right,” he said grudgingly, climbing to his paws.
“This might take me a moment,” Kallik said, turning her nose into the wind. “There are so many seal smells coming from the pelt-den…I have to separate out the ones coming from farther away…. Let me think.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly twisting her head one way and then the other.
“There!” she said. Her eyes popped open. “Let’s go!” She sprang to her paws and started to run across the ice.
Toklo followed her, impressed. How could she smell something so far away? He knew his nose was excellent, but it was so clogged with the oil scent that he doubted he’d be able to find a seal hole even if it was under his paws right now.
They ran and ran, sprinting up snowy hills and tumbling down the other side, skidding on slippery patches and jumping over small cracks in the ice. Sometimes Kallik would stop to sniff the air and peer at the bubbles underneath her. Toklo had to admit he loved the feeling of the wind in his fur. He already felt better, just from stretching his legs and getting a chance to run. It was much more satisfying than crouching in the snow and staring at flat-faces all day long.
Finally Kallik slid to a stop and pointed with her nose. Toklo saw the dark hole in the ice up ahead. It looked very still, and he couldn’t smell any recent scents of seal. But he watched Kallik slowly creep up and lay down next to the hole. Then he copied her movements, trying to be just as quiet and stealthy. He imagined he was stalking a rabbit through the forest, placing his paws carefully among the leaves and branches. Here it was ice and snow, but the cautious pawsteps were the same.
Kallik fixed her eyes on the hole. Her breathing slowed down until Toklo could barely see her fur rising and falling. She seemed to have forgotten that he was there. He stared at the dark water, too. It was still hard for him to wait patiently for prey to come to him. He wanted to rush at the water and attack moving shapes with his claws, the way he caught salmon. But he already knew that that wouldn’t work out here.
His ears pricked forward as something rippled below the surface. His eyes flicked to Kallik and he saw that she had turned her eyes to him as well. With a tiny movement of her head, she motioned from him to the hole.
“You should get it,” he whispered back.
“Just try,” she said softly. “I know you can do it.”
He was about to argue with her, when a sleek brown head popped out of the water. Immediately his instincts took over and he lunged forward. For a moment his claws sliced through air, and he was afraid that he’d missed it. But then they sank into rubbery flesh, and he yanked the seal toward him, burying his teeth in its neck. Shaking it ferociously, he dragged it back up onto the ice and pinned it down until the thrashing stopped.
“You did it!” Kallik crowed. “That was perfect!”
Toklo wiped blood off his muzzle and licked his paws. “I did, didn’t I?” he said smugly. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Kallik looked offended. Quickly Toklo ducked his head and muttered, “Well, perhaps it was a little hard.”
The white bear bumped his side in a friendly way and crouched beside the seal. They tore long strips of flesh off and chewed, watching the sun disappear and the dark shadows creep across the ice. Toklo glanced up at the stars. It was easier to feel confident about saving Lusa when his belly was full. Maybe the others were even right about bear spirits watching over them.
They polished off the seal in no time, and then Toklo stood up, rubbing his paws into the snow. “We’d better get back,” he said. “We should be there when whatever Ujurak is going to do happens.” The anxiety was returning, prickling through his pelt.
“Absolutely,” Kallik said, getting to her paws as well. “Race you there!” She sprinted off across the snow.
“Hey!” he shouted. “No fair! Your paws are better on the ice, and you know where we’re going, and you got a head start—” He realized she wasn’t slowing down, so he stopped complaining and started to run. The cold night wind chilled his nose and made his eyes water. But his paws felt strong and powerful, and he flew across the snow as fast as any white bear. He kept Kallik in his sights as he ran.
Toklo cast a glance up at the stars. He hoped the others were right about the bear spirits, and that the star-bear who had told him one of them would die was wrong. If there was any night when they could use serious spirit help, this was it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ujurak
Ujurak peeled off his gloves and dunked his pale human hands into a bucket of warm water. He felt exhausted, but in a happy, useful sort of way. He’d spent the whole day helping Sally, and he hadn’t had to spend a moment of it trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. He was surprised to realize how much he liked not being in charge. It was much easier when someone just told you what to do, and when you knew that everything you were doing was making the world a better place, even in a small way.
He’d never thought that being a flat-face could be so satisfying.
Sally came up beside him and dipped her hands into the water as well. Their fingers brushed, and he looked up to see her smiling at him.
“I guess you have to go back to your dad now,” she said ruefully.
“My dad?” Ujurak said, then caught himself. “Oh, yeah, of course. On the oil rig. Yeah. But just for the night. I’ll come back tomorrow.” He glanced around at the room of animals. Many of them were sleeping, exhausted by the stressful day or carefully tranquilized so they could rest. Lusa was one of the few still awake. She tilted her head at him when he looked at her.
He wished he could tell her he wasn’t really leaving. He’d pretend to go, and then he’d sneak back in and let her out in the middle of the night.
Unless… Ujurak wondered if it would be so bad if he spent one more day as a human, especially since he didn’t seem to be in danger of forgetting his bear-ness right now. There was still so much work to do with the animals. He could really be a help to Sally and Craig and the others. And Lusa was warm and safe and well fed here. It wouldn’t hurt her to spend another day in the tent.
But he’d have to let Toklo and Kallik know so they wouldn’t come tearing in here themselves.
He was scrubbing at his hands, thinking about how to get a message to them, when Sally said, “I’m glad you’re coming back tomorrow. It’ll be pretty crazy again because our ship is coming, so we’ll be unloading supplies and then loading it with all the animals going back to the mainland.”
Ujurak’s stomach lurched. “Going back to the mainland?” he echoed.
“Yeah,” Sally said. “The ones in the best shape—we’ll get them as far away from here as possible.” She nodded over at Lusa. “That includes our cute little friend there. They’ll take her back to a forest where she belongs. I bet you’ll be happy about that, won’t you, sweetheart?” she said to Lusa in a friendly voice. “Gosh, poor little thing. She’s probably ready to hibernate about now.”
“Yeah, she is,” Ujurak said. He barely noticed the strange look Sally gave him. His head was swirling with guilt and worry and confusion. All the fears he’d managed to push back while he was working during the day flooded through him again.
Tonight was his last chance to rescue Lusa. But was it the right thing to do? The kind humans were ready to take her back to the land, where she would be safe. Was that what Lusa really wanted? Would she resent him for keeping her on the ice instead?
Then he remembered the signs in the sky—the cloud trail and the tiny stars. All four of them had to finish the journey. Surely Lusa knew th
at, too. If he could only talk to her, then he could make sure she was willing to come with him. But there was no chance of that happening with Sally watching him all the time.
He looked up and realized that Sally was giving him a puzzled look. “Are you all right?” she asked. “It looked like you kind of drifted off into space for a minute there.”
“Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t exactly understand what she’d said. “I’d better get going.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. To his surprise, she took one of his hands and squeezed it. “Thanks for your help today. You’re a natural at this. It’s like you could understand what the animals were feeling.”
Ujurak shifted uncomfortably. “I was just guessing,” he mumbled.
“Well, you should think about doing this forever,” Sally said, grinning. “We could roam the world, saving animals wherever we go. Like wildlife superheroes. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
He looked down at her hand, still twined through his. “Yeah, it would be,” he said. “But—I can’t.”
“Oh.” Sally looked hurt for a moment. She let go of his hand and pushed her hair back behind her ears, avoiding his eyes. “Okay. I mean…you mean because of your dad? He wouldn’t let you?”
“Sort of.” Ujurak felt bad lying to her, but what else could he say? “Sorry, I’m actually a bear”? He could just imagine the look on her face if he said that.
“Well, he can’t control you forever,” Sally said, tossing her head.
“It’s not just that,” Ujurak said. “I have these…friends…they need me. We’re—it’s kind of a responsibility, uh, thing. It’s hard to explain.”
“Ah,” Sally said with a smile. “It’s complicated, huh? I’ve heard that before.”
Ujurak nearly laughed. He wondered what Toklo would say about this conversation. “Yeah,” he said. “Complicated.”
“Sure, okay,” Sally said. She looked away again. “Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow.”