Spirits in the Stars

by Erin Hunter

  She led the way to an igloo on the far side of the group. Ujurak’s skin began to tingle as he drew closer, and he shivered inwardly with anticipation. A loud caw overhead made him jump, and he looked up to see a raven flying above the igloo.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Eva laughed. “My grandfather loves to feed the birds. It’s a waste of good bread,” she added, but she was smiling as she said it, and Ujurak realized that she was only teasing.

  Eva stooped to enter the igloo, and Ujurak followed her, all his senses alive with curiosity. Inside, the only light came from a lamp set on a snow-ledge at the far side; the air was still with the musty smell of birds and unwashed pelts. Ujurak brushed past something on the ground and realized it was the cloak of feathers, lying there folded and empty, like a fallen bird.

  At first he thought that the igloo was unoccupied, until something stirred among the furs on the raised sleeping area.

  “Grandfather, you have a visitor,” Eva said.

  A very old man peered out from the midst of the furs. His hair was white and wispy, and his face seamed with lines of wisdom and experience. His dark eyes shone brightly in the dim light.

  “Can I get you some food, Grandfather?” Eva asked, bending over the old man and helping him sit up. “Or water? Are you warm enough? I could fetch you some more furs.”

  A thin, bony hand appeared from the coverings, motioning her away. “I’m fine, Eva. Leave me in peace.”

  Eva gripped his hand for a moment before turning to leave. Before she entered the tunnel again, she glanced back at Ujurak. “Remember not to stay too long and tire Grandfather,” she told him.

  When Eva had gone, Ujurak stood silent in front of Tulugaq. The old man fixed a piercing stare on him, for so long that Ujurak started to feel uncomfortable.

  “So you came,” Tulugaq said at last. “I wondered if you would figure it out.”

  “You . . . you looked different in my dream,” Ujurak stammered.

  Tulugaq let out a hoarse laugh. “In my dreams I am still a young man.”

  “And a raven!” Ujurak blurted; excitement surged up inside him, warring with his nervousness.

  “Yes.” Tulugaq bowed his head. “I am always a raven.”

  “Are you like me?” Now words were tumbling out of Ujurak. “Can you change into anything?”

  Tulugaq raised his brows in surprise. “No, just a raven. Or perhaps I am a raven that changes into a man,” he added with a sly smile.

  “How do you know?” Ujurak asked.

  The old man’s gaze grew fixed, as if he were looking far beyond the walls of the igloo. “When I was younger,” he began, “I lived for the air, the silent sea above the ground where my wings could carry me anywhere. I learned so much on those journeys; I could find answers for anyone who came to see me.” He paused, sighing. “But now I am old, and I want my family around me as I prepare to join my ancestors in the sky.”

  Ujurak stared at him. “You mean the lights? Those are your ancestors, too?”

  “Oh, yes,” Tulugaq replied. “They are the Selamiut, all the people who have lived on the ice before us.”

  Ujurak’s heart pounded, and he felt he could scarcely breathe. So they aren’t just bears, he thought. “Do you know where the lights have gone?” he asked out loud.

  Tulugaq closed his eyes. “The lights have departed before this, but they have never stayed away so long.” He gave a long sigh. “Yes, I am troubled. In my dreams I have tried to look for them, but I am old and tired. It is time for someone else to look.”

  “I’m trying!” Ujurak assured him. “But I don’t know what to do next.”

  The old man gazed at him for a moment from his bird-bright eyes. “Would you like to travel with me?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Ujurak’s excitement welled up again, and he turned toward the entrance tunnel.

  “No, not like that. Lie down here.”

  As Tulugaq motioned to the space beside him on the sleeping area, he was shaken by a fit of coughing, scarcely able to get his breath. Ujurak wasn’t sure what to do. Fighting back panic, he looked around and spotted a container made of skins. The scent of water came from it; Ujurak picked it up and held it for Tulugaq to sip.

  “Shall I fetch Eva?” he asked as the old man’s coughing died away.

  “No.” Tulugaq’s voice was rough and breathy. “She’ll only worry. And I shall be joining the Selamiut soon, wherever they are. . . .” He motioned to Ujurak to lie down beside him, then fumbled out a small bunch of herbs from somewhere among his furs and reached up to sprinkle them on the lamp. Finally he settled himself back, closed his eyes, and began to chant in a thin, reedy voice.

  Ujurak lay down and pulled the furs around himself. The warmth and the scent of burning herbs lulled him into a half sleep. Tulugaq’s chanting seemed to become more resonant, wreathing around Ujurak like smoke.

  Spirits, we’re coming to find you, Ujurak thought muzzily. Show us what you want us to do.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ujurak

  Ujurak jerked awake to see the tall, imposing man from his earlier dream standing by the entrance to the igloo. He was enveloped in the cloak of feathers.

  “Tulugaq?” Ujurak asked uncertainly.

  The man nodded, beckoning. “Come.”

  Ujurak followed him outside into the dim light of early dawn. Tulugaq walked away from the igloos, quickening his pace as he went, until the cloak was billowing out around him like a pair of vast wings. Suddenly his shape flickered; his feet left the ground, and a raven soared into the air, wheeling over Ujurak’s head.

  Quickly Ujurak willed himself to change, letting black feathers grow from his flat-face arms while he felt his legs shrink into the sticklike limbs and claws of a bird. Spreading his wings, he felt a beak sprout from his face, and he let out an answering caw as he mounted into the air: younger and smaller than Tulugaq, but a raven just like him.

  Tulugaq rose higher and higher into the air, until the igloos vanished into the snowy ground around them. Gazing around him, Ujurak could see the whole island, and other islands dotted in the frozen sea around it. The flat-face denning area near the poisoned cove stood out stark against the snow on the far side.

  Swooping lower again, Tulugaq and Ujurak flew over the new bay, where Ujurak spotted several white bears crouched beside breathing holes, waiting for seals. Good, he thought. They’ve moved to their new hunting ground. He recognized Yakone from his reddish pelt, and wondered what the white bear would think if he knew who was flying overhead.

  A little farther on, the snow was churned up by a caribou trail, heading inland. Tulugaq swerved to follow it, past the flat-face denning area and toward the inner part of the island, where steep mountains reared up into the sky. At last they passed the caribou herd; the powerful bodies of the creatures looked tiny as Ujurak flew above them.

  Then Tulugaq led him into a deep fold in the ground, flanked by jagged hills all covered in snow. He swooped down into the valley and perched on a wind-carved point of snow halfway up the slope. “Down there,” he cawed as Ujurak alighted beside him, “is a cave where our ancestors met.”

  My ancestors? Or yours? Ujurak wondered.

  “It is known as the Place of the Selamiut,” Tulugaq told him.

  “Are we going inside?” Ujurak asked eagerly.

  The raven shook his head. “There is something else I want you to see,” he cawed.

  Tulugaq flew on, and Ujurak sprang into the sky and followed him. At the end of the valley a flat-face structure came into view: It was made of dark poles tapering into the sky and flanked by brown machinery.

  Tulugaq flew down and perched on top of the tall structure. As Ujurak joined him, he picked up a stench that reminded him of the creatures soaked in oil that he had helped Sally rescue, and of the oilfield he had visited at the edge of the Last Great Wilderness.

  Oil! The flat-faces have even come here to find it!

  He looked down at the flat-faces moving around the area,
dressed in bright yellow pelts. Some of them were driving past in firebeasts; others were on foot, carrying long rods or chunky bits of machinery that Ujurak didn’t recognize.

  As he gazed down, his vision seemed to blur, and when it cleared again, he saw more structures sprouting from the ground, more flat-faces and firebeasts, appearing like the eruptions of some horrible disease, until the whole island was covered, as far as Ujurak could see.

  The sounds of dying animals huddled below him invaded his head: cubs whimpering with hunger, birds cawing feebly, white bears roaring in anger that there were no seals left. The suffering of starving creatures filled the whole world, shaking Ujurak on his perch.

  Dark, sticky oil started to well up from the ground, a black tide spreading across the snow, swallowing the whiteness and the dying creatures. Wave after wave of it flowed out around him, covering the frozen sea and encroaching on the other islands until there was nothing but stinking oil from horizon to horizon. Ujurak gagged on the stench as he breathed in the tainted air.

  “Tulugaq, what—?” he began. Ujurak broke off as he turned to look at the raven and saw the gloss on his feathers covered with thick black oil. The bird was choking, his beak opening and closing silently.

  Tulugaq is dying!

  Ujurak couldn’t think where the oil had come from, but he knew there was no way of banishing it, nothing that he could do here. They had to get back to the igloos.

  “Tulugaq, you must fly with me!” he urged.

  The older raven turned his head and fixed Ujurak with a despairing gaze, but he spread his wings and lurched into the sky. Ujurak flew close beside him as they struggled over the hills, beginning to panic again as he realized that he didn’t know which way to head.

  Tulugaq was losing height, his oil-soaked wings laboring. Ujurak swooped to follow him. Suddenly he felt a jolt as if he had slammed into the ground, and for a moment everything went dark. Then he opened his eyes and found himself in flat-face form, wrapped in furs and lying in Tulugaq’s igloo.

  The reek of oil still filled the air, and Ujurak gasped for breath as he thrust away the furs and scrambled to Tulugaq’s side. The old man was clean, the smothering oil vanished, but he lay on his back, his chest heaving as he drew in each rasping breath. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t rouse when Ujurak spoke his name.

  His hands shaking, Ujurak grabbed the water bottle and raised the old man’s head so that he could take a sip.

  Tulugaq’s eyes flickered open, and he fixed them on Ujurak as he pushed the water bottle away. “The wild is dying, and I am dying with it,” he whispered. “The time has come.”

  “No!” Ujurak exclaimed.

  The old man ignored his protest, feebly trying to raise himself among the enveloping furs. “Turn back the tide to save the island,” he gasped, “and perhaps the wild will survive.”

  Ujurak nodded. “I will, I promise.” Anything, if it will keep Tulugaq alive! “I’ll fetch Eva,” he added.

  The old man’s hand, thin and bony like the talon of a bird, reached out and gripped Ujurak’s wrist with surprising strength. Ujurak looked down to see that his eyes were brimming with tears.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured to the old man, compassion making his voice quiver. “I will do what I can.”

  Tulugaq shook his head. “It is your time, too,” he whispered. “I wish it were not so.” Gathering his strength, he added, “Look for me where the Selamiut are, and I will find you among the stars.”

  His grip tightened on Ujurak’s wrist, then went limp. He let out his breath in a long sigh. His eyes were still fixed on Ujurak’s face, but the light within them was gone. Shock froze Ujurak for a moment before he managed to control himself.

  “Good-bye, Tulugaq.” Ujurak reached out and gently closed the old man’s eyes. Then he bowed his head over the body and gave himself up to grief.

  Movement inside the igloo roused him some unknown time later; he looked up and saw Eva. She stood behind him, her eyes full of sorrow as she gazed down at the body of her grandfather. “I knew he was dying,” she whispered. “But I thought he would stay with us a little longer.”

  “I’m so sorry!” Ujurak blurted out. “I tried to help him.”

  Eva nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I know. He was an old, old man. I’m glad he went peacefully.”

  But he didn’t, Ujurak thought. He knew that something terrible is happening on the island, and he wanted me to stop it. But how? I had so many more questions to ask!

  As Eva bent over her grandfather’s body, covering his face and beginning to arrange herbs around him from a pouch beside the bed, Ujurak slipped out of the igloo. He retraced his steps to Akaka’s igloo, relieved to find that it was still empty. He stripped off the borrowed clothes and ventured out into the open again, shivering in the icy wind.

  As he began to run, he transformed back into a brown bear, but for once there was no comfort in the familiar shape. Every nerve and muscle in his body felt the sickness of the raven, the anguish of the Inuit boy, the hunger of the white bears, and the confusion of the caribou as their feeding grounds were drowned under the stinking black tide of oil.

  This is the place where the wild is dying faster than anywhere else!

  Chapter Twenty

  Toklo

  Toklo plodded back to the makeshift den with a ptarmigan, the chunky body with its ruffled white feathers hanging limply from his jaws. His scouting hadn’t found any trace of pursuing white bears, and on his way back he had practically tripped over the bird. He felt satisfied that he’d managed to achieve something.

  The wretched creature is very small, he thought, but it’s better than nothing. Certainly better than those plants Lusa is always looking for!

  When Toklo reached the edge of the den, he saw only Lusa, lying on her back and playing with Kissimi, who was dabbing at her paws. She scrambled up, gently pushing the cub to one side, when she spotted Toklo.

  “Have you seen Ujurak and Kallik?” she asked anxiously.

  Shaking his head, Toklo dropped the ptarmigan into the den. “Aren’t they here? I thought they’d be back by now.”

  “No. I’m getting really worried.” Lusa stroked Kissimi with one soft black paw, as if she was trying to reassure him.

  Toklo lowered himself into the den, pushing his prey toward Lusa so that they could share it. Tearing off a scrap, he set it down in front of Kissimi.

  “Don’t stare at me!” he said gruffly, feeling Lusa’s gaze on him. “We’re running for our lives because of him. There’s no point if he dies.”

  He glared at Kissimi as the little cub nosed at the meat, then set his teeth in one end of it and began chewing inexpertly. Suddenly Toklo blinked. Kissimi’s fine white fur faded in front of his eyes, to be replaced by the scrawny brown flanks of his brother, Tobi.

  “Yuck!” he complained.

  “But you’ve got to eat.” Toklo tried to persuade the cub, panic welling up inside him. “If you don’t, you’ll die.”

  Still the cub only spat out the morsel of meat and turned his head away, letting out a weak, mewling cry.

  Toklo’s fear was driven out by surging anger. “Eat!” he growled. “We’re risking our lives for you! Can’t you see that?” He loomed over the cub, who cringed away from him with a whimper of terror, and raised one paw ready to strike.

  Before he could bring down his massive paw onto the cowering cub, a shower of snow descended from the edge of the den. Kallik hurled herself at Toklo, throwing aside an Arctic hare that she held clamped in her jaws. She looked wild-eyed and exhausted.

  “What are you doing?” she snarled, rounding on Toklo and baring her teeth, ready for a fight. “Leave Kissimi alone!”

  Overwhelmed by rage and frustration, Toklo advanced on her, but before he could come within striking distance, Lusa hurled herself between them.

  “Stop this at once!” she snapped. “Toklo, get out. You’re scaring Kissimi.”

  She thrust at Toklo with her shoul
der, urging him to the edge of the den. Clumsily he stumbled out. His fury ebbed, and he shuddered as he came back to himself. It wasn’t Tobi; it was Kissimi all along. His belly churned with horror as he realized that he might have to watch another cub die.

  Behind him he could hear Kallik as she fussed over her cub. “Kissimi! Are you all right? Don’t be afraid, dear one; the scary brown bear has gone.” She gave the cub’s fur a deep sniff. “Oh, you’ve eaten something! Thank you for sharing,” she added to Lusa.

  “Well, of course we fed him!” Lusa responded indignantly. “It’s not his fault!”

  Kallik muttered something inaudible; Toklo hoped she felt embarrassed about the danger she had brought down on them all, and the way she seemed to think they wanted her cub to die.

  “Kallik, Kissimi is so clever.” Lusa was obviously trying to distract her friend and calm the tension between them all. “He knows all our names now. And he was pretending to crouch beside a seal hole. He kept so still!”

  While Kallik nuzzled her cub, Toklo grumpily tried to block his ears from the she-bears’ chatter. I know I was wrong to get angry with the cub. But for a moment there he looked just like Tobi . . . and I can’t stop thinking about him. Cubs die too easily!

  Staring out across the snow, he wondered what had happened to Ujurak.

  If he doesn’t come back soon, I’ll have to go and look for him. It would be just like that cloud-brained bear to get into trouble!

  Then Toklo spotted movement, dark against the snowy landscape: Something was moving fast toward him. He tensed his muscles, only to relax as the creature drew closer and he recognized Ujurak, racing up with his ears pinned back.

  Toklo sprang up and ran to meet him. “What happened?” he demanded, anxiety rushing through him at the smaller bear’s distraught look.

  Ujurak skidded to a halt, spraying snow from his paws. “I’m fine,” he panted. “But I went traveling with a flat-face—he was a raven, too—and I saw more oil! It’s drowning the island, and everything wild!”