by Erin Hunter
Ujurak felt the pangs of hunger griping deeper in his belly with every day that passed, and he knew that his companions were suffering, too.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we couldn’t hear the walruses,” Toklo grumbled as the wind carried another gust of bellowing cries toward them. “I can smell them, too. I can’t think of anything except for sinking my teeth into one of them.”
Ujurak muttered agreement; he was hungry enough to risk attacking one of the savage creatures for the chance of gorging on the meat.
Kallik groaned and buried her snout deeper into Lusa’s fur. All they could do was endure, and hope to sleep away the time until they could carry on.
At last Ujurak woke to silence. Raising his head, he realized that the wind had dropped. The sun was shining; light reflected from the undisturbed covering of snow that blanketed the ice in every direction.
“Wake up!” Ujurak prodded Toklo, then Kallik and Lusa. “The storm is over.”
He hauled himself out of the hollow as his companions woke up, blinking in the bright light and unfolding stiff limbs to follow Ujurak.
Lusa scooped up snow in her paws and rubbed it over her face to wake herself up. “Come on!” she called, bounding enthusiastically away from the den. “It’s this way! Let’s—” She broke off suddenly as the snowy surface gave way and her small black shape vanished into a drift.
“Oh, for the spirits’ sake . . .” Toklo muttered.
He plodded over to where Lusa had disappeared, wading through the fresh, powdery snow. Ujurak watched, half amused and half anxious, as the grizzly plunged his snout into the drift and reared back with Lusa’s tail gripped between his jaws.
“Hey, that hurts!” Lusa protested, paws flailing as she emerged with snow clotted all over her black pelt.
Toklo hauled her to the edge of the drift and let go. “Watch where you’re putting your paws.”
“And don’t go running off,” Ujurak added as Lusa shook snow from her pelt, scattering it around her in a wide circle. “We’re not sure exactly where we are.”
“How are we going to find out?” Kallik asked.
Ujurak concentrated, but he couldn’t hear or smell the walruses anymore. Just when it would be useful . . . And the spirits were still not sending him any signs.
There’s one way, he thought, but fear stabbed his heart, colder and harder than sharp splinters of ice. But I might lose myself forever.
As the silence dragged out, his fear was thrust aside by guilt. I can’t let my friends down, he decided. Not when there’s something I can do to help.
“I’ll turn into a bird and fly,” he said reluctantly.
“But you don’t like changing anymore,” Lusa objected.
“That’s not the point,” Ujurak replied. “It’s something I can do, and maybe that makes it my duty.” And if I don’t stay in that shape for long, I should be able to remember who I really am.
Lusa padded over to him and touched her snout to his. “Thanks, Ujurak.”
Warmed by the way that his friend understood his hesitation, Ujurak spotted the tiny shape of a seabird in the distance and focused on it. Moments later he felt himself shrinking, and he saw his brown fur vanish to be replaced by the sleek black feathers of a cormorant. His forelegs fanned out into wings, and his hind legs grew bare and skinny. Before his hooked feet could sink into the snow, he took to the air with a mighty flap and soared upward. He let out a harsh cry of triumph as the land fell away beneath him. In spite of his fear he felt the exhilaration of powerful wings bearing him up and the cold air streaming through his feathers.
But I’m a bear. I’m a bear, I’m a bear. I must never forget what I really am.
His friends shrank to three tiny shapes at the foot of Walrus Rock. Higher still, and Ujurak could see that they were on an island, surrounded by the frozen sea. He couldn’t tell exactly where the land ended and the ocean began, but he spotted exposed cliffs, and places where it looked as if the snow had been blown to a thin layer. There were no trees, but a few scrawny bushes clung to the cliff face.
Ujurak circled the whole island; at the far side he spotted the walruses, a whole mass of them on a plain near the sea, packed tighter together than grubs under a rock. Swooping down, Ujurak let his gaze travel over their glistening brown bodies, their whiskered faces and curving fangs. He went so low that some of them jerked back their heads and snapped at him.
Oh, no, Ujurak thought, gaining height again with a single flap of his wings. You’re not going to eat cormorant today!
The walruses’ smell gusted over him; he looked down in disgust as they slithered fatly over one another like huge slugs. The babies never stopped squawking, and the bellowing of the full-grown males filled the air like thunder.
Yuck! I’ll make sure I never turn into a walrus!
As Ujurak flew back over the cliffs, another cormorant dove at him, her wings folded back as she let out a loud alarm call.
“All right! All right, I’m going!” Ujurak called back, guessing that she had a nest somewhere close by.
Swiftly he flew back inland, pushing down panic for a moment as he wasn’t sure of the way back to Walrus Rock. Then he spotted the familiar twisted shape, with his three friends waiting patiently beside it.
The sun was setting as Ujurak landed in the lee of the rock and let himself change back into bear shape. At first he felt heavy and clumsy, and he missed the soaring freedom of flight, until the comfort of his brown bear shape flowed over him: This was the body he belonged in.
The other bears clustered around him excitedly.
“What did you see?” Lusa demanded.
Ujurak noticed that snow was sifted in her black pelt again. “What have you been doing, rolling in it?” he asked.
Lusa looked shamefaced, not meeting his gaze. “I fell into another drift,” she admitted.
“Never mind that.” Kallik pushed forward eagerly. “Tell us what you saw.”
Ujurak described the island and the cliffs, and the stinking pack of walruses. “Far too many for us to think of hunting them,” he said.
Toklo looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. “What do you think we should do, then?”
“Make for the center of the island, the highest part,” Ujurak replied, jerking his head in that direction. “We might find some bushes there and be able to scrape down to the ground. But it’s getting dark. Maybe we should stay here tonight and set off in the morning.”
“I’m sick of that den,” Toklo growled. “Let’s get going now.”
“Yes!” Lusa added with an excited little bounce. “We’ll be okay traveling by night.”
Ujurak glanced at Kallik, then nodded. Toklo charged off in the lead as they set out for the middle of the island. Privately Ujurak felt that his friends were more confident about journeying in darkness because there was ground beneath the snow now, not ice or water.
“They feel they’ve come home,” Kallik remarked as she fell in beside him.
But they haven’t. Ujurak couldn’t shake off his misgivings. None of us has. Maybe we don’t even know where home is anymore.
Chapter Two
Toklo
Toklo felt new energy tingling in his legs as he bounded up the slope toward the middle of the island with Lusa panting along beside him. There was still deep snow under his paws, and nothing broke the unrelieved white of the landscape, but it felt different, knowing there was land beneath the snow.
No more of that endless salt water with seals and whales floating around, he told himself with satisfaction. There’s firm, solid ground that we can dig into dens. There’ll be prey for the taking. I can feel it, even through all this snow. I—
His thoughts were cut off by a startled yelp from Lusa. The black bear fell through the surface of the snow and vanished; a moment later her head popped up, and she shook snow out of her ears.
“Not another drift!” Toklo exclaimed. “Honestly, Lusa, I think you’re doing this on purpose.”
“O
h, yes, because I love the snow!” Lusa replied crossly. “Get me out of here, Toklo.”
The big grizzly waded through the snow and gave his friend a push so she could scramble onto firmer ground on the far side of the drift. She’s doing her best, he thought, but she’s still fighting off the longsleep.
The short delay had given Ujurak and Kallik time to catch up, trotting in Toklo’s footsteps. Toklo headed off again, toward the top of the hill at the center of the island, as Ujurak had suggested. He pictured again how the cormorant’s glossy black feathers had shrunk away as his friend’s body swelled and took on the familiar shape of a brown bear.
Funny, Toklo mused. I’m so used to Ujurak changing shape now, I can hardly remember how shocked I was when he first did it.
Abruptly he halted. A new smell had drifted into his nose; it had been so long since Toklo had smelled it that he felt stunned for a moment.
Prey!
It wasn’t fish, or seal, but warm, furry prey—and it was just ahead.
“Stay back!” Toklo hissed with a glance at his companions. Crouching low, he crept forward, guided by the tantalizing scent. But however carefully he scanned the snow-covered hill ahead of him, he could see nothing. The moon had appeared, washing the slope with silver light, and nothing disturbed the smooth sweep of snow.
Where is it?
The scent grew stronger as Toklo advanced, pawstep by careful pawstep, but there was still no sign of the animal. His gaze swept across two small black dots, and he focused on them sharply as the dots twitched.
Yes!
Now that Toklo realized what he was looking at, he could make out the shape of an Arctic hare. Its pelt was completely white, hardly visible against the snow-covered hill, except for the black tips of its ears. It had been burrowing into the snow, but as Toklo bounded forward, it fled, its paws skimming across the frosty surface.
With a growl of hunger Toklo pounded after it, forcing his legs to pump faster and faster. For a few frustrated moments he thought the hare would outrun him, but then he forced himself into a final, massive leap, and let out a triumphant bellow as he felt his claws sink into the hare’s fur. He dispatched it with a swift blow to the neck.
“Great catch, Toklo!” Kallik exclaimed as she and Ujurak ran up to join him.
Toklo’s pride was warring with disappointment: The hare’s fur was thick, but the body underneath was small and skinny. At least it’s real prey at last, he told himself.
“Come and share,” he invited the others.
Kallik and Ujurak settled down beside the prey, but there was no sign of Lusa.
“Where’s Lusa off to now?” Toklo demanded, looking around, hiding his worry with a show of irritation. “If she’s disappeared into another snowdrift, she can find her own way out!”
Gazing down the slope, he spotted Lusa snuffling around excitedly in the snow where he had first seen the hare.
“Hey, Lusa!” he called. “Don’t you want your share?”
“I’m looking for my share,” Lusa replied. “The hare dug down through the snow, and I can smell leaves!”
She scraped vigorously, and Toklo saw a sparse, small bush emerge from the powdery snowbank. Lusa bit off a whole twig and chewed happily.
“Delicious!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled by the mouthful. “You are clever, Toklo!”
Toklo snorted. “How in the world can you prefer eating sticks to warm hare?” he demanded.
Busy chewing, Lusa didn’t reply. Toklo shrugged. At least she’s pleased.
When they had finished eating, they set out again toward the top of the hill. As they climbed higher, the slope grew steeper, and Toklo felt his claws scrape on stone. The snow that covered it was loose, sliding away as he clambered upward to reveal the bare rock beneath.
As he hauled himself to the top of a huge boulder, Toklo heard a yelp behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ujurak trying to cling to a crack in the rock, his claws slipping on the smooth, wet surface.
Before Toklo could scramble down to him, Ujurak lost his grip and fell back with a bellow of alarm. Lusa, climbing just behind Ujurak, scrabbled frantically to get out of his way, but she was too late. Ujurak crashed into her, and they both rolled back down the slope in a flurry of waving paws.
Toklo began climbing down, but Kallik was the first to reach the two bears, who were sitting up and looking dazed.
“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously.
Ujurak rose to his paws, followed a moment later by Lusa. They both took a few tottering steps, while Kallik gave them a careful sniff.
“I think they’re fine,” she told Toklo as he plodded down to them.
“Sorry, Lusa.” Ujurak gave his friend a guilty look. “I just slipped.”
“It’s okay,” Lusa replied cheerfully, touching his ear with her snout. “There’s no harm done.”
“But we all need to be more careful,” Kallik pointed out. “Let’s not climb so close together, so if one of us falls, no other bear will be hurt. And it helps if you can keep to the edges of the rock where the snow is firmer. Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
Toklo let the white bear take the lead as they started to climb again. She understands snow best, he thought. Toklo wanted an enemy he could attack; he didn’t know how he could defeat the snow.
At last the four bears trudged up the final slope and stood at the top of the hill. Gazing at the island spread out beneath him, Toklo felt a strong sense of achievement. Although everything was white, and he couldn’t tell where the land ended and the sea began, a tingle in his paws told him that they were almost at the end of their journey. The exhausting trek across the Endless Ice lay behind them.
The far side of the hill fell away in front of his paws, leading to the beach where the walruses were crowded. There were masses of them like big brown, lumpy stars. The strong wind carried their noise and smell, powerful even at that distance. His belly rumbled, and he felt the gush of water between his jaws.
“No, Toklo,” Kallik said sharply, as if she guessed what he was thinking. “Ujurak was right; we can’t hunt them. There are too many, and they can fight as well as any bear.”
She exchanged a glance with Ujurak as she spoke, and Toklo remembered that the two of them had fought and killed a walrus when they were alone on the ice. The story had scared him; he had to admit that even he didn’t want to be attacked by a whole horde of them.
“All right, all right,” he grumbled. “I just hope we can find some decent prey soon.”
“We’ll think about that in the morning,” Kallik decided. “Right now I think that if a seal bobbed up in front of me, I’d be too tired to catch it.”
There was a murmur of agreement from Ujurak and Lusa.
“We’d better dig a den down there,” Toklo said, jerking his head toward the bottom of the slope.
He took the lead as the bears all climbed down again to a sheltered spot just below the ridge and dug holes in the snow to make dens where they could curl up for the night.
As soon as he closed his eyes, Toklo thought that he woke in a den of earth. Tangled roots stretched above his head, and in the distance he could hear the faint sound of rustling trees. He was pressed up against a mound of fur, and his mother’s scent was strong in his nostrils. Blinking, he saw that his brother, Tobi, was curled up between Oka’s forepaws, his eyes closed and his breathing strong and steady.
A powerful sense of safety surged over Toklo. “Is this home?” he whispered.
“No.” Oka’s voice was a warm rumble. “But we are with you.”
When Toklo woke, he could see the first pale flush of dawn, a line on the distant horizon. His friends were stirring around him, climbing out of their snow-dens.
In spite of his short sleep Toklo felt invigorated as they set out again down the shallower side of the ridge. His paws itched to be moving. Picking up speed, he found that he was running as if he were a carefree cub again, with the wind in his face and tugging at his fur.
His companions kept pace with him on either side, until they all lost their footing as the ground leveled out, and they tumbled to a stop in the snow.
“That was fun!” Lusa exclaimed, beginning to scrape down beneath the surface. “Oh, I want to smell the grass and earth again!”
Toklo set to work beside her, throwing the snow aside with powerful sweeps of his paws. But when he reached the earth, it felt cold and lifeless: bare ground with a few flattened stems of grass and scraps of lichen.
Oka was right; this isn’t my home, he thought, disappointed.
Rising and shaking the snow from their pelts, they trekked on toward the edge of the island, avoiding the beach where the walruses lay packed together.
“Listen!” Kallik said, raising her snout as a sign for the others to halt. “Can you hear that?”
Toklo strained his ears; beyond the bellowing of the walruses he caught the creaking sound of the ice shifting. Though the covering of snow continued undisturbed ahead of him, he realized they were standing at the edge of the sea.
“I wish we could stay here,” Lusa said, casting a wistful glance over her shoulder.
Toklo was annoyed to catch himself doing the same. He knew that they hadn’t reached the end of their journey, but it had felt so good to have land under his paws again.
“We have to go on now,” Ujurak urged them. “There’s nothing here for us.”
“What’s the matter?” Toklo asked, disturbed by the note of anxiety in his friend’s voice. “Why are you worried?”
“Look at the sky,” Ujurak replied.
Toklo glanced up. The warm flush on the horizon was spreading; the moon had disappeared, and the stars were growing pale. “Nothing up there,” he grunted.
“Exactly!” Ujurak retorted. “Where are the spirits? They were showing us the way to go, but now they’ve vanished.”
“Why would they do that?” Lusa asked. “Does it mean we’ve arrived at where we’re supposed to be?” But the doubt in her voice told Toklo that she too knew the end of their journey still lay ahead of them.