by Erin Hunter
Lusa tried hard to think of a reason her friends would accept. How could they smell that seal and think it was good to eat? “I just do—okay?” she said defensively. “And we can easily catch something else later.”
“Easily?” Toklo huffed scornfully. “There are lots of white bears living around here, or haven’t you noticed? That means there’s going to be plenty of competition for prey.”
Guilt stabbed Lusa like a thorn in her heart, but she still didn’t back down. There was something wrong with that seal, and I’m not going to say I’m sorry for saving the stupid fluff-brains!
She noticed that Ujurak’s anger had faded and he was giving her a very odd look. Lusa almost asked him what the matter was. Then she realized he probably thought she had bees in her brain for throwing prey over a cliff.
I don’t care, she told herself. Somehow they’ll find out that I was right.
Chapter Five
Kallik
Kallik felt sorry for Lusa as she watched the small black bear trying to defend herself. Whether she was right about the seal or not, she was only trying to help.
“Well, the rest of us are going to look for the seal hunting ground, and when we find it, we’ll catch some prey,” Toklo growled, thrusting his snout aggressively at Lusa. “If you don’t want to eat it, you can keep your mouth shut and stay away. I’m not going to gnaw frozen twigs, even if that’s good enough for you.”
He marched off, following the seal track in the snow, then halted and looked back over his shoulder. “Are you coming or not? I think that if we follow this track back, it will lead us to the place where that white bear caught the seal.”
“Okay.” Ujurak set off, trotting in Toklo’s wake.
Kallik exchanged a sympathetic glance with Lusa before following, aware that the smaller bear was trailing unhappily behind.
She herself was feeling optimistic. Toklo thought that with so many white bears on the island there would be competition for prey, but Kallik didn’t think he was right. So far they had seen plenty of prey, enough to support a good number of bears.
She wondered whether this place was still part of the Endless Ice. It certainly felt as cold as it did on the frozen sea. She reveled in the frosty air as she followed Toklo along the track of bear pawprints and seal blood.
“Look, I can see the pawprints the white bear made when she ran away,” Lusa said after a while. She was sounding more cheerful again, as if she was putting the quarrel behind her.
Kallik padded over to see. The pawprints were clearer here, undisturbed by blood or the marks of where the seal was dragged through the snow. A feeling of uneasiness crept up on Kallik as she looked at them.
“There’s something wrong here,” she said to Lusa. “The prints are uneven, as if she was stumbling through the snow. What was the matter with her?”
Lusa shrugged, unable to reply, though Kallik saw that her friend was looking uneasy, too. They followed the prints, heading in the same direction as the seal track a bearlength or so away. The tracks led to a jumble of boulders at the edge of the cliff. From here it looked as if the ground fell away to the shore.
“This is where the seals come from,” Toklo grunted in satisfaction.
He quickened his pace and rounded the boulders, until he halted with a huff of astonishment. Kallik hurried forward to find out what he had seen. Peering around Toklo’s massive shoulder, she saw the white she-bear, slumped on her side in the snow.
For a moment Kallik tensed, half expecting the strange bear to leap up and attack. Then she realized that the bear was hardly conscious; she let out a long moan, and her paws scrabbled feebly in the snow.
Brushing past Toklo, Kallik went up to her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is there anything we can do to help you?”
The white bear groaned again, struggling to breathe. “My belly . . . it’s on fire.”
Kallik leaned her head against the white bear’s shoulder, trying to offer comfort, but the other bear jerked away from her, snapping her sharp teeth.
“Leave me alone,” she growled. “I won’t let you hurt my baby.”
Kallik backed away, staring in surprise. As the white bear moved, she revealed a tiny cub trying to suckle from her belly. Its eyes were still closed, and its hair was so fine that it looked almost bald.
So tiny! Kallik marveled. It must be newborn.
“We won’t touch your cub,” Lusa said gently, padding up to stand beside Kallik.
The she-bear’s only reply was a hostile snarl that turned to a groan as she clawed at her belly. The cub whimpered and tried to burrow deeper into its mother’s fur.
“Do you live with those other bears?” Toklo asked. “Where are your dens?”
The sick she-bear glared at him. “Why would I tell you?”
“We’re not here to do any harm,” Kallik tried to reassure her. “We need to know about this island, that’s all. And if you tell us where to find your friends, we’ll fetch them and maybe they can help you.”
“No bear can help me.” The she-bear’s words turned into a groan, and she closed her eyes.
“I wonder why she’s ill.” Ujurak pressed forward and gave the she-bear a sniff. “She’s thin, but she’s not starving. . . . You can see she’s full of milk.”
“But she smells weird,” Kallik added, taking a good sniff in her turn.
“A bit like that seal,” Lusa agreed.
As her friend spoke, apprehension began to gather inside Kallik, like a stone in her belly. What if Lusa was right? Can seals make us sick?
Ujurak approached the mother bear cautiously, sniffing at her fur as if he was trying to work out what was wrong.
Maybe he knows of an herb that will make her well, Kallik thought hopefully.
But the she-bear didn’t understand. She snapped feebly at Ujurak and lashed out at him with one paw. Ujurak jumped back swiftly to avoid the blow.
“Come on,” Toklo said roughly. “We can’t do anything to help her. And our being here is only making her worse.”
Kallik realized that Toklo was impatient to be hunting seals, but even so she had to admit that he was right. I think this bear is dying. And what will happen to her cub then?
Toklo led the way along the seal track, heading down toward the beach. Lusa and Ujurak followed, with Kallik bringing up the rear. She kept casting glances back toward the other white bear and her cub, even when they were out of sight. She couldn’t get the tiny cub out of her mind. Its pink, hairless skin looked so vulnerable in the biting cold.
That night Kallik lay curled up in the snow-den she and her companions had dug out against the cliff face. She listened to the peaceful breathing of her friends, but she couldn’t sleep.
If the mother bear dies, her cub will die, too. The words echoed through her mind, over and over again.
No! Kallik sat up, careful not to wake the others. She knew that she couldn’t abandon the cub, not if there was something she could do to save it.
Nisa didn’t let the orca take me. She gave up her life so that I would be safe. Now it’s my turn; I have to help this cub, whatever it takes.
The first light of dawn was glimmering on the snow as Kallik carefully slid out of the den and retraced her steps along the seal track to the top of the cliff. Beside the heap of boulders the mother bear lay dead, cold as a stone. Kallik fought with sadness and regret. She had known from the first there was nothing any bear could have done to help the mother.
But what about the cub?
Kallik pawed through the dead bear’s belly fur until she came upon the limp body of the cub. He lay so still that at first she thought he was dead, too. Her heart swelled with grief.
Oh, spirits, no! Please . . .
Then she saw, as if in answer to her silent pleading, that the cub’s chest was rising and falling as he breathed: a slight movement that Kallik had almost missed. Thankfulness washed over her as she realized the tiny creature was still alive.
Cupping her paws around him, s
he breathed warm breath over his body until he gave a wriggle and started to whimper.
“There, small one,” Kallik whispered, pushing him up against one of his dead mother’s teats. “See if your mother has any milk to give you.”
The cub latched onto the teat and began to suckle, feebly at first, then more strongly. Kallik waited for him to finish. Then she crouched down beside the cub and nudged him onto her shoulders. When she was sure that he was clinging securely, she turned and padded down the path, carrying the cub to her friends.
When she reached the beach, the other three bears were emerging from the den.
“There you are, Kallik!” Toklo called to her. “We didn’t know where you’d gone off to. You shouldn’t—” He broke off, staring. “What have you got there?”
“I went back,” Kallik explained, trying to keep a defensive note out of her voice as she padded over to Toklo and the others. “The mother bear is dead. I couldn’t leave the cub to die, too.”
“And how will you keep him alive?” Toklo asked scathingly. “We have no milk.”
Kallik faced the brown bear steadfastly. “I don’t know, but I’m going to try.”
“Your brain’s full of cloudfluff!” Though Toklo’s voice was angry, his eyes were haunted, as if he was revisiting some terrible memory. After his first horrified glance, he didn’t look at the cub.
Kallik took a step forward, baring her teeth. She would fight for the cub if she had to. Toklo was her friend, but the rage of protectiveness that surged up inside her made her forget everything except the threat to the cub.
For a moment Toklo held the white bear’s gaze. Then Kallik saw the haunted look in his eyes fade, replaced by respect.
“Do what you want,” he muttered, turning aside to talk to Ujurak.
Lusa padded up to Kallik, her bright eyes alive with interest. “Can I see?” When Kallik nodded, she stretched out her neck and gave the cub a gentle sniff. “Oh, Kallik, he’s adorable! Have you thought of a name for him yet?”
“Yes,” Kallik replied. “I’m going to call him Kissimi. It means ‘alone.’”
“But he’s not alone anymore,” Lusa pointed out. “He has you.”
Yes, Kallik thought, deep satisfaction welling up inside her. Yes, he has me.
Chapter Six
Toklo
Toklo sat in the shelter of a thornbush, watching Lusa and Kallik as they fussed over the white bear cub. Two days had passed since Kallik had rescued him. The day before, a blizzard had forced them to retreat from the coast and take shelter beyond the ridge of low hills. Ujurak had caught a white hare, and now Kallik was chewing up the softest part of the meat for the baby to swallow.
Toklo’s hackles rose as he gazed at the scrawny little creature. “This is a waste of prey,” he muttered to Ujurak, who was sitting beside him, finishing off his share of the catch. “And the cub doesn’t even belong to us.”
Ujurak said nothing, just touched his nose to Toklo’s shoulder.
“This cub isn’t part of our destiny, is he?” Toklo hissed.
Ujurak looked uncertain. “We can’t leave him behind” was all he said.
“No, we can’t,” Toklo agreed reluctantly. “Kallik wouldn’t let us.” But the cub is a weakness, he added to himself. And we can’t afford weakness. It’s already taking all we have to survive.
“Hey, Toklo!” Lusa called, glancing across at him with bright eyes and beckoning with one paw. “Kissimi has opened his eyes. Come and see!”
“No, thanks,” Toklo growled, rising to his paws. So his eyes are open. Big deal. “I’m going to look for some more food.”
Without waiting for a response, he left the thorn thicket where they had spent the night and headed along the valley. His senses were alert for the scent or sight of hare. In the distance he spotted a cloud of snow thrown up into the air, and wondered for a moment what could be causing it.
Musk ox, he realized, picturing the way that the sharp hooves churned up the ground. His belly rumbled, and he was tempted to head in that direction.
But I’d never catch one on my own, he thought regretfully.
Toklo was still searching for hare without any success when he heard a growl from somewhere ahead. Looking up, he spotted a full-grown male white bear standing in his path. His stance was threatening, and Toklo didn’t like the unfriendly gleam in his eyes.
“So it’s true,” the white bear said. “There are brown bears here.”
Toklo braced himself for an attack, but for the moment the white bear didn’t move.
“My brother Yakone saw you arrive,” the white bear went on. “Where are the others?”
“Safe from you,” Toklo retorted, his pelt bristling in defiance.
“That’s what you think,” the white bear sneered. “You are not welcome here. Brown bears and black bears don’t belong on this island.”
“There are no scent marks,” Toklo responded. “Nothing to say that this is your territory and yours alone. We have every right to be here.”
“You have no right,” the white bear snarled. “To start with, your fur is the wrong color.”
The white bear’s eyes glittered with hostility, and he took a pace toward Toklo, baring his teeth. Toklo stood his ground, trying to hide how daunted he was by the bear’s sheer size.
He’s big, even for a white bear. But if I can dodge under his paws, I can get in a few blows to his belly.
Toklo rose to his hindpaws and parted his jaws to roar a challenge. But at the same moment he heard a new voice, shouting from the ridge behind his attacker.
“Unalaq!”
The white bear looked over his shoulder as an ancient white she-bear appeared on the crest of the ridge, flanked by more white bears. She looked older than any bear Toklo had ever seen before, like a leafless tree with a pelt hanging from its branches. But as she drew closer, Toklo saw that her eyes were black and bright. The other bears followed her down the slope; clearly they regarded her with the greatest respect.
The old bear padded down the hillside until she stood in front of Toklo, gesturing with one paw for the hostile white bear to join the others.
“But you—” he began to protest.
The old she-bear repeated the gesture more forcefully. “I don’t feel threatened, with all of you to come to my rescue. Besides,” she added gruffly, “this young bear doesn’t look as if he would attack a feeble old she-bear.”
There was a twinkle in her eyes that suggested she didn’t regard herself as feeble at all. Toklo shook his head, unsettled by her; he had no idea what to expect.
“What is your name?” she asked him.
“Toklo,” he replied.
“And they call me Aga. It means ‘mother’ in our speech. Star Island has been my home for many circles of the sun.”
“This is Star Island?” Toklo asked.
Aga nodded. “They tell me you have companions,” she went on. “May I meet them?”
Toklo wasn’t sure. This old bear seemed friendly enough, but what if she was trying to trick him? “What for?” he asked, mustering all his courage.
The she-bear dipped her head slightly. “This is our place,” she reminded him gently. “And you are strangers. We have a right to know who you are, and what led your pawsteps to Star Island.”
Toklo could understand that, but he was still reluctant, especially after the hostile reception he had received from the young male.
“How do I know you won’t hurt my friends?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be looking after them. I won’t lead enemies to them.”
Aga blinked, understanding in her eyes. “Your courage does you credit,” she told Toklo. “But you and your friends will come to no harm from me or these others. Unalaq there makes a lot of noise, but he isn’t as dangerous as he looks.”
“All right,” Toklo agreed. I don’t have much choice; I have to trust her. “But my friends are quite a long way off,” he added, looking at Aga’s frail figure.
“I’m stron
ger than I look,” Aga assured him, again with that unsettling twinkle in her eyes. “Let us go.”
As Toklo turned to lead the way, a young she-bear stepped out of the group and padded beside Aga. She gave Toklo a wary glance, as if she was half expecting him to attack.
“This is Illa.” Aga introduced her.
Toklo gave the young white bear a curt nod, surprised at how thin she looked. All the bears seemed underfed, he realized. But why should they? Between the musk ox and seal, this island is full of food.
“Illa, you will come with me,” Aga continued. “The rest of you, stay here.” She gave Unalaq a hard stare, as he seemed about to protest again. “I will return soon.”
As he headed back up the valley with Aga and Illa, Toklo was still aware of the gaze of the other white bears boring into his back. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Unalaq. That bear is trouble.
“Where do you come from?” Aga asked him, distracting him from worrying about the hostile bear. “Not from somewhere with ice and snow,” she added, a humorous gleam in her eyes. “That brown pelt of yours stands out sharper than a walrus!”
“I’m from a place with forests and mountains,” Toklo began.
“Forests?” Aga asked curiously.
Of course—she’s never seen a forest! Toklo realized. “A forest is a place with a lot of trees. And trees are like bushes, with leaves and branches, only bigger. Where I come from, you can walk among the trees for days and days and never come to the end.”
Aga blinked in wonder. “Truly the world is wide,” she murmured. “And why have you come here?” she went on. “Why did you leave your . . . forests?”
Toklo wasn’t sure how to reply. If I tell her about Ujurak and his quest, she’ll think my brain is full of cloudfluff!
Before he could decide what to say, he was distracted by a flicker of movement. An Arctic hare had sprung up from a dip in the ground and was racing up the valley a few bearlengths ahead.
Without thinking, Toklo took off after it, his powerful paws scattering the snow as he ran. Beside him he was aware of Illa, running with longer strides, much more experienced in the snowy landscape.