Spirits in the Stars

by Erin Hunter

  “Musk oxen have been here,” Ujurak murmured, and pointed with his snout at the faint traces of hoofprints still visible in the snow.

  “Yes. But we’d never bring one down when it’s just us,” Kallik said regretfully. She prodded hopefully at the snow, but there was no sign of prey. “Why don’t you turn into a hare?” she suggested. “Then you’ll be able to track down their burrows under the snow.”

  Ujurak shook his head. “Today I want to hunt as a bear,” he told her, with no explanation.

  Kallik was opening her jaws to complain when a flicker of movement caught her attention. “A hare!” she exclaimed, making out the shape of its white body and the black tips of its ears, which bobbed up and down as it ran.

  Ujurak launched himself after it, and Kallik followed, veering away in a wide circle to come at the hare from a different direction. The chase led them into a valley with low ridges on either side, the ground uneven with snow-covered rocks and clumps of thorns growing among them.

  The hare was fleeing from Ujurak, but it hadn’t noticed Kallik, who began to home in on it. Ujurak let out a roar, panicking the hare still further. It dodged around a thornbush and raced straight for Kallik.

  But just as Kallik was bracing herself to spring on it, something zipped past her head. The hare let out a squeal and fell, jerking, to the ground. A moment later it went limp; Kallik saw a stick poking out of its body, sending a trickle of blood into its white pelt.

  “What happened?” she asked, bewildered.

  As Ujurak skidded to a halt nearby, Kallik raised her snout to sniff the air, and froze at the scent she picked up. “No-claws!” she exclaimed. “We should get out of here.”

  Both bears backed off from the hare lying still in the snow. Something moved in the corner of Kallik’s eye, and she spotted a no-claw in white pelts emerge from behind a snowy rock. He let out a shout and waved his forelegs as if he was trying to chase the bears away.

  At the same moment a harsh caw sounded behind Kallik. She turned her head to see a raven fly up from a bush and circle over their heads; she guessed the noisy no-claw had startled it.

  And he’s wearing the pelt of a white bear, she thought, drawing her lips back in a snarl of outrage.

  “Kallik, come on,” Ujurak called to her. “Let the flat-face have his prey.”

  “That was our prey,” Kallik retorted. “Are you starting to favor no-claws since you became one?”

  Ujurak shook his head. “Don’t be cloud-brained,” he said mildly. “We can find another hare just as easily.”

  Still grumbling under her breath, Kallik headed farther along the valley, only to halt as Ujurak called to her again.

  “Wait a moment. I want to see where that white-pelted flat-face came from.”

  Kallik turned to see Ujurak climbing the ridge at the side of the valley where the no-claw had appeared. With an annoyed shrug she headed toward him and caught up at the top of the ridge.

  “Look at that!” he exclaimed.

  Peering down, Kallik spotted a collection of small snowy humps with tunnels leading into the side. Some of the humps were linked by more tunnels. The smell of no-claws and burning meat drifted up to her. “What are those?” she asked, baffled. “Hills?”

  Ujurak didn’t reply; his gaze was rapt, fixed on the scene below as if he was completely fascinated by it.

  Then Kallik saw a no-claw emerging from one of the tunnels. Those humps must be no-claw dens, she realized, but I’ve never seen anything like them before. “I guess they build their dens out of snow here,” she muttered. “Just like us.”

  Ujurak still didn’t respond. Above their heads the raven let out another harsh caw, then swooped down to the cluster of snow-dens. Ujurak’s gaze followed its flight.

  “We should go.” Kallik shifted her paws restlessly. “What if the no-claws see us? They obviously hunt bears as well as hares. I don’t want to end up as a no-claw’s pelt!”

  Ujurak didn’t move; it was as if Kallik hadn’t spoken.

  “We haven’t finished hunting, remember?” she said impatiently, giving the brown bear a prod in the side.

  Huffing in annoyance, she realized that she wasn’t getting through to Ujurak. Fine! If he wants to stand there staring at birds and little snowy hills, he can do it by himself!

  She stomped off down the hillside into the valley and began casting about for the scent of hare. Soon she spotted tiny pawprints in the snow and started to follow them, her snout close to the snowy surface of the ground.

  Then a little way ahead Kallik saw a tiny dark blob. A hare’s nose! Yes! As she hurtled forward, the hare sprang up and fled, but frustration gave Kallik extra speed. The hare swerved around an outcrop of rock; Kallik caught up with it and killed it quickly with a paw slamming into the back of its head.

  The scent of fresh prey made her belly growl, but Kallik knew that she had to save the hare for Kissimi. She glanced around, thinking that she knew the right direction, and headed back to the den.

  But the valley didn’t open up into the flatter area where they had dug the den, as she had expected. Instead Kallik found herself trekking deeper into the gently undulating terrain, with no landmarks or trails to follow. Turning, she began to retrace her pawsteps, still carrying the hare. Its scent and taste flooded her jaws with water; all her instincts were telling her to stop and eat, but she forced herself to go on, keeping the prey for her cub.

  There was still no sign of the makeshift den, or any familiar shapes in the snow-covered ground. Kallik tried a different direction, feeling foolish and angry and tired all at once.

  If I just gave up and lay down, would I turn into a tiny hill of snow like those no-claw dens? But then, what would happen to Kissimi? she wondered.

  Suddenly panic stabbed through Kallik, tearing at her like huge claws. Maybe I can’t find the den because the white bears found them and killed them all!

  She began to run, faster and faster, even though she had no idea where she was going. Her panting breath billowed out in clouds, which thickened around her until she was running through mist. Soon she couldn’t see a single pawstep in front of her, and she felt the presence of another bear, keeping pace beside her through the fog.

  “Ujurak?” she asked nervously. “Yakone?”

  “Don’t be afraid, little one,” a voice whispered. “You are not lost. I am here.”

  Kallik halted, taking a huge shuddering breath as she recognized the voice of her mother. Turning to face Nisa, she could just make out a white shape, barely visible through the mist.

  The one question Kallik wanted to ask tumbled from her mouth. “Did I make a terrible mistake, taking Kissimi?”

  Nisa’s voice was gentle as she replied in the words Ujurak had used. “You have made him part of your destiny. Every step you take is one you have chosen; remember that.”

  “But I couldn’t leave him!” Kallik wailed. “Not without his mother!”

  Nisa’s warm eyes gleamed in the mist. “Ah, you were thinking of me, weren’t you? But you and Taqqiq had no one to take care of you. Kissimi has other bears.”

  “But I don’t,” Kallik whispered, feeling a terrible loneliness opening up inside her. “Not white bears, not you, and not my brother.” Longing to be with others of her kind washed over Kallik and mingled with guilt as she remembered how she had left Taqqiq behind.

  “Taqqiq chose his own path,” Nisa told her; her warm breath drifted over Kallik, bringing her comfort. “Just as you chose yours. And you still have a choice about Kissimi. . . .”

  Nisa’s voice began to fade on the last words. Kallik realized she could no longer see the white shape through the mist. Then a wind rose, swirling the mist away, revealing a bare hillside, where Kallik stood with the hare in her jaws. Above her the sky was white and empty, with no sign of the spirits.

  Was my mother really with me just now? Kallik wondered. Or did I dream her?

  As she stood still in confusion, she felt a tug on her fur and recognized her b
ond with Kissimi, calling her back. A swell in the land in front of her looked familiar. Lowering her head against the wind, Kallik began trudging back to the den.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ujurak

  Standing on the hilltop, Ujurak was hardly aware of when Kallik left him. Instead he was lost in the memory of what he had dreamed the night before.

  Starlight sparkled on the snow. Ujurak gazed into the black depths of the sky, tracing out the shape of his mother, Ursa. She looked so close that he felt he could almost reach up a paw to touch her.

  Then, as Ujurak gazed upward, the stars began to spin. Ursa’s shape was lost as they swirled into a glittering whirlpool, then spun outward again and began to take on a new shape.

  Ujurak held his breath in astonishment as he saw the widespread wings, the wedge-shaped tail, and the strong beak, and heard the harsh cry that came from it.

  A raven!

  The star-bird swooped down, circling Ujurak’s head, and landed on the snow by his side. As soon as its claws touched the ground, it began to grow, its feathers billowing outward. Its beak shrank away, and the feathers vanished from its face and wings. A tall, imposing flat-face stood by Ujurak’s side, clad in a cloak of black feathers. Snow swirled up and glittered around him, forming an icy mist.

  As Ujurak watched, stunned to silence, the flat-face turned to him and beckoned. Then his form faded into the mist. Before he finally disappeared, he opened his mouth, but all that came out was the harsh caw of a raven.

  Ujurak blinked, shivering, and realized that he was still standing on the ridge, looking down at the snow-dens below. He remembered the call of the star-bird and the flat-face; it was exactly the same as the cry of the raven that had swooped over his head and then flown down to the flat-face denning area.

  This flat-face has something to tell me, Ujurak thought.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw no sign of any other bears. He hesitated for a moment, then began to plod downhill toward the snow-dens. As he walked, he reluctantly let his bear shape slip away, relinquishing his fur for the almost hairless skin of a flat-face. He rose to his hindpaws, staggering a little before he found the balance of this unfamiliar shape.

  By the time he reached the snow-dens, he was naked and shivering, hugging himself in a vain attempt to keep warm. His bear senses had not entirely left him; he crept up to the nearest of the dens and made sure by sniffing and listening that there was no one inside.

  Ducking into the entrance tunnel, Ujurak found himself in a circular den. Pale daylight filtered in through a square of ice set in the roof. At the opposite side from the tunnel was a raised section of packed snow, spread with twigs and caribou hides.

  Investigating, Ujurak found some flat-face pelts there, too: He slipped on a coat made of caribou and some pelt-wraps for his legs. Glancing around, alert in case the flat-face who lived there came back, he spotted a pair of pelts the same shape as his awkward flat-face hindpaws. Ujurak slipped his feet into them and headed out of the tunnel again.

  Just as he emerged into the open, he heard a shout behind him. Startled, he spun around to see a female flat-face—no, a woman, he reminded himself, trying to gather his memories of the language of the flat-faces. She was tall, with a tanned, lined face and gray hair wisping from underneath her head covering.

  “What were you doing in Akaka’s igloo?” she demanded.

  Ujurak ducked his head respectfully. “I . . . I was looking for someone,” he stammered. “I’ve come a long way to speak to the man who wears a black cloak of feathers.”

  The woman frowned. “You mean Tulugaq?”

  Hoping he was right, Ujurak nodded.

  To his relief the woman’s face softened. “Not many people visit Tulugaq in the deep snow,” she said. “He is an old man now. He will be glad of someone to talk to, but you mustn’t tire him out.”

  “I won’t,” Ujurak promised.

  The woman beckoned. “Come with me. My name is Anouk,” she went on as she led the way among the igloos. “What’s yours?”

  “I’m Ujurak.”

  “Well, Ujurak, I don’t know how you managed to travel in the depths of winter like this. Where did you come from?”

  Even though Anouk’s tone was friendly, Ujurak wanted to evade her questions. There’s no way I can tell her the truth!

  “Er . . . I’m from a tribe on a different island,” he replied. “I had a dream that told me to come and find Tulugaq.”

  Anouk smiled. “Ah. A lot of his visitors say that.”

  Before she could ask any more questions, a black-haired young man appeared from behind the nearest igloo. He wore white bear pelts like the hunter Ujurak and Kallik had seen, and he carried fish fastened together with a hook through their jaws.

  “Hey, Mother, who have you got there?” he called out as he approached.

  “This is Ujurak,” Anouk replied. “Ujurak, this is Akaka, my firstborn son. He—”

  “Just a minute,” Akaka interrupted. He strode up to Ujurak and stood looking down at him with a thunderous frown on his face. “You’re wearing my clothes! Thief!”

  “I’m sorry.” Ujurak took a step backward, intimidated by the man’s rough voice. “I—I lost my clothes in a storm, and I was so cold! I’ll put them back before I go, I promise.”

  Akaka narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Lost your clothes in a storm? What sort of a tale is that? Who are you, anyway? Did you come from the military base?” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me you want us to move our igloos again?”

  Ujurak was bewildered by the flurry of questions. He didn’t know what Akaka was talking about, let alone how to answer him.

  “Akaka!” A clear voice rang out, and Ujurak spotted a young woman hurrying to stand at Akaka’s side. Her dark hair was in a long braid down her back, and her eyes were a piercing green. “Akaka, you’re scaring the boy. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.”

  Akaka just snorted, but Ujurak was pleased to see that the man’s frown faded as he looked at the young woman.

  “This is Eva, Akaka’s wife,” Anouk told him. “Ujurak has come a long way to see Tulugaq,” she added.

  “There! You see?” Eva said to her husband, as if that were a good excuse for stealing clothes. “But you’d better come with me first,” she went on to Ujurak. “Anyone can see that you need a good meal and a rest.”

  She pointed to a bigger igloo near the center of the denning place. The tempting smell of burned meat drifted from it, but Ujurak hesitated, hunger warring with his need to speak to Tulugaq and find the answers to the questions that were tormenting him.

  “Better do as Eva says,” Anouk advised, laughing. “My son’s wife can be very bossy, but she has a good heart.”

  “And take care of my clothes!” Akaka still looked stern, but he clapped Ujurak on the shoulder before striding off with his catch.

  Ujurak followed Eva into the big igloo, intrigued to meet more of her people. They seem so different from Sally and her friends. They don’t have all those firebeasts and the other machines I saw there. They reminded Ujurak more of the Caribou People he had met in Arctic Village, when he had almost died from swallowing a fishhook, and the village healer, Tiinchuu, had saved his life.

  As soon as he emerged from the entrance tunnel, smoke caught him in the throat, and he coughed. His eyes stinging, he peered through the haze, trying to make out his surroundings.

  The igloo was similar to the first one he had entered, though much bigger: a single round space with a raised area spread with pelts, which Ujurak guessed was where the people slept. A second tunnel led away at the far side, probably to another of the snow-dens. Ujurak stared in astonishment to see that the smoke was coming from a fire in the middle of the area. There was a hole in the roof above the fire to let the smoke out, though it wasn’t working very well.

  Fire? But this igloo is made of snow! Why doesn’t it melt?

  A metal pot was balanced on top of the fire, with the enticing scent of se
al meat coming out of it. Around the fire several people were crouching, holding out more pieces of meat and fish, speared on sticks, to burn in the flames. They were all dressed in the pelts of caribou or bears. They looked up as Ujurak and Eva entered the igloo, and murmured greetings.

  “Hi, everyone, this is Ujurak,” Eva announced cheerfully. She thrust Ujurak forward, and two younger men moved aside to make a space for him near the fire.

  “Hi, Nauja,” Eva continued, bustling up to the pot and stirring it with a spoon. “How’s your cough?” Hardly waiting for a reply, she went on, “Irniq, Akaka has the fishhooks you wanted. You need to go and get them.”

  While she was speaking, she ladled out some of the meat from the pot onto a flat metal plate, which she gave to Ujurak. “There, eat,” she invited with a broad smile. “You look half starved.”

  Ujurak sniffed suspiciously at the meat; his bear instincts made him uncertain about eating anything that had been burned. But his flat-face belly rumbled with hunger. Ignoring the spoon Eva gave him, he picked up a lump of meat in his fingers and swallowed it in one gulp. He closed his eyes with pleasure at the delicious taste and the warmth spreading inside his belly.

  This is the right sort of food for bears, he thought.

  Kind laughter broke out all around him. “You certainly were hungry,” someone commented.

  Ujurak stared at his plate, embarrassed. “Sorry.” I’ve got to remember how flat-faces eat!

  Eva ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, Ujurak. I like to see people enjoying their food.”

  While Ujurak picked up the spoon and ate more slowly, he listened to the quiet voices of the people around him.

  “I feel a storm coming,” one of the older men said. “My bones ache.”

  “Your bones are always aching, Amaruq,” the man beside him said, giving him a friendly nudge.

  “And there are always storms,” Amaruq responded calmly. “I hope we’re sheltered enough, here below the ridge.”

  As soon as Ujurak had finished eating, Eva beckoned him out of the igloo again. “Now I’ll take you to see my grandfather Tulugaq,” she said.