The Burning Horizon

by Erin Hunter

  This isn’t the sort of ice that I know. . . .

  The sounds made Kallik feel very small and vulnerable. All her life the ice had been her home, her friend, the place where she knew she belonged. But this ice was indifferent and hostile, trapping her as if she was a seal without a hole to escape. She realized with a new feeling of dread that there were no spirits here, nothing to protect her from the malignant presence all around her. The ice moaned again.

  It’s like it’s alive!

  As she went on, she found herself setting her paws down as lightly as she could, hardly even daring to breathe, as if she might manage to avoid the attention of the huge being that surrounded her on all sides.

  Panic surged up again inside Kallik. She wanted to run, to batter a way out through the walls of ice. But before she lost all control, she felt a warm body pressing against hers, urging her to go on padding steadily upward.

  “Ujurak?” she said, her voice quavering.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  To her surprise, Kallik picked up fear in Ujurak’s voice, as well as a slight tremble in the body that she felt but couldn’t see. It was like he was a young, overwhelmed little bear again, perhaps because being underneath a glacier was so different from anything he had experienced before.

  Strangely, the realization that her guide was frightened, too, helped to calm Kallik. She was reminded of how she had cared for the cub Kissimi on Star Island.

  We can help each other.

  “Does this path lead to the surface?” she asked Ujurak. “Is it much farther?”

  “I don’t know,” the smaller bear replied. “But it’s the best hope we have, so we’d better keep going.”

  “It’s good to have you here,” Kallik said.

  For a moment she felt Ujurak’s body press more closely to her side. “I’m glad to be with you again.”

  As the two bears stumbled on, Kallik noticed that the ice above her head was beginning to darken. Fresh terror crept over her as she realized that night was falling. “I’m so afraid,” she whispered. “I can’t handle being trapped here in the dark, alone.”

  Ujurak’s voice was warm. “You’re never alone.”

  Together Kallik and Ujurak climbed and climbed up the slope as the light grew dimmer. Kallik struggled to keep putting one aching paw in front of the other, covering bearlength after bearlength without any sign that they were coming closer to the surface.

  Stumbling over a loose rock, Kallik lost her balance and fell. For a moment she lay still, unable to gather the strength to rise to her paws and carry on. “I just want to lie here and sleep for a while,” she murmured.

  “No!” Ujurak gave her a hard shove. “You can’t sleep here. If you do, you’ll never wake.”

  He gave Kallik another shove, urging her to her paws again. Kallik got up and staggered on, but her head was spinning and she struggled to cling to consciousness.

  A few paces ahead, she realized that her sides were brushing the walls of the crevasse. “It’s getting narrower again,” she choked out. “I’ll get stuck!”

  “No, you won’t.” Ujurak’s voice was reassuring. “Just keep going.”

  Kallik pushed herself forward, wondering how Ujurak managed to stay by her side when there was hardly enough room for her to force herself through the narrow path.

  Step by step they carried on. There was one horrible moment when Kallik became wedged in an angle of the passage. Sharp pain bit into her shoulder as she finally wrenched herself free. “Why is it so . . . hard?” she panted.

  But the next section of the path was wider again, and the going became easier. Then Kallik realized that something felt different on her fur. Pausing to sniff the air, she realized a breeze was flowing over her, cool and fresh, smelling of ice and mountains.

  “We must be close to a way out!” she exclaimed.

  Kallik mustered her last reserves of strength and hauled herself upward in the twilight. She could see the sky above her now. It was pale, and she could make out a few glimmering stars. “We’re going to get out!” she told Ujurak, then realized that he wasn’t with her anymore. Brief sadness passed over her like a gust of wind, followed by a boundless gratitude that he had stayed with her through the worst of her ordeal.

  “Thank you, Ujurak,” she whispered.

  The ice walls were lower now, though still higher than Kallik could reach if she balanced on her hindpaws. But with the surface so near, she pressed forward with new energy, certain she would be able to climb out soon.

  At last Kallik heaved herself out of the crevasse, now no more than a shallow gully across the face of the glacier. She lay on the surface of the glacier, gasping for breath, with the mountain peaks looking down at her. Her head reeled, and the stars spun above her, but she could still make out the Pathway Star, and the blazing shapes of Ujurak and his mother.

  “Thank you, Ujurak!” she breathed out once again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lusa

  Lusa lay on her side with the sun beating down on her until her fur was uncomfortably hot and her mouth was dry with thirst. She had spent the whole day waiting by the mesh for the flat-faces to return.

  I have to show them that I’m friendly! I wasn’t trying to attack them!

  But the flat-faces never came.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Taktuq advised her, a hint of amusement in his voice. “The flat-faces will let you out when they’re ready. Besides, you’re safe and well fed here. What’s your problem?”

  Lusa sprang to her paws and faced the old bear. “It’s all wrong!” she snarled. “Bears should be wild.”

  “In the wild, I would be dead by now,” Taktuq pointed out quietly.

  Lusa glared at him for a moment longer, then relaxed, letting out a sigh. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “But this life isn’t for me.”

  Taktuq shook his head, baffled. “I’ll never understand what’s so wonderful about living in the wild.”

  Lusa drew in her breath for a hot protest.

  “Okay, okay,” Taktuq added quickly. “I know I’m never going to change your mind.”

  As the sun went down, Lusa heard movement from inside the den and picked up the scent of fruit drifting toward her. She realized that the flat-faces must have brought food to lure her back inside. The other animals had already retreated, even the coyote. Though every hair on her pelt wanted to stay in the open, she knew she needed to do whatever the flat-faces asked her to right now. She forced herself to go back in through the flap, looking as small and meek and unthreatening as she could.

  But the flat-face—the gray-furred male—didn’t speak to her or try to touch her. Frustrated, Lusa gazed at the fruit. She had no appetite for the sweet taste now, and although she told herself she had to eat to keep her strength up, the thought of it nauseated her. She slumped down in front of the bowl.

  Taktuq lifted his head from his own bowl and turned his cloud-colored eyes toward her. “It will take time to win their trust,” he said sympathetically.

  “I don’t have time!” Lusa retorted.

  The old bear didn’t respond at first, only finished his food in a few swift gulps, then shuffled over to the bars that separated him from Lusa and flopped down.

  “Come here,” he said. When Lusa didn’t move, he added, “Come on. I want you to talk to me.”

  Lusa felt so weary and miserable, it was easier to give in to him than to start arguing. She stumbled across her cage and sank down next to Taktuq. The old bear pressed up against the bars so that their pelts brushed.

  At the touch some of Lusa’s misery began to dissolve. She felt safe and protected, as if she was a cub again.

  “Tell me about these other bears,” Taktuq said gruffly.

  Lusa sighed, deciding that she would tell Taktuq the truth after all. “At first I was with a brown bear and a . . . another brown bear,” she began. “And at Great Bear Lake we met a white bear.”

  “What?” Outrage and surprise mingled in Taktuq�
�s voice. “You mean you weren’t traveling with black bears? Why in the name of Arcturus would you do that?”

  “It just happened that way,” Lusa said. “They’re really good friends, believe me.”

  Taktuq gave a disbelieving snort.

  “We’ve traveled so far together,” Lusa told him. “All the way to the Endless Ice, and then back again.”

  “The Endless Ice really exists?” Taktuq asked, sounding astonished. “My mother used to tell me about it, but I thought it was just a story.”

  “Oh yes—it goes on forever. I never knew there was so much space in the world . . . so much sky. I nearly froze and starved to death, and I wanted so much to fall into the long-sleep, but I knew if I did, I would never wake up.”

  Taktuq poked his snout through the bars to nuzzle her shoulder. “You must have been terrified.”

  “I was,” Lusa responded. “But it was wonderful, too. We saw the spirits dancing in the sky, all the colors you could imagine, and the stars were so bright!” Suddenly she remembered Taktuq’s blindness. “I’m sorry,” she added. “I forgot you’ll never be able to see that.”

  “That’s not important,” Taktuq grunted. He paused for a moment, then added, “How did you get here?”

  “One of the brown bears died there, on an island in the Endless Ice.” Fresh sadness swept over Lusa as she remembered Ujurak’s small body, broken by the avalanche. “And another white bear joined us for this part of the journey. We were traveling to Great Bear Lake when I was injured by the mule, like I told you.”

  Taktuq sniffed, but he made no other comments about her traveling companions. “So . . . why Great Bear Lake?”

  “We were looking for our homes,” Lusa told him. “The others have all found theirs, but I haven’t. Not yet.”

  There was admiration in Taktuq’s voice, though his tone was still gruff, as if he was reluctant to admit his awe for what Lusa and her friends had experienced. “You really have done some extraordinary things.”

  “Yes,” Lusa responded. She realized for the first time that Taktuq was much like Toklo in his gruffness and the friendliness hidden beneath it. “But it will all have been for nothing if I can’t find a place where I truly belong.”

  Taktuq let out a sigh. “You can belong anywhere if you try hard enough,” he said quietly.

  * * *

  When the next morning came, Lusa continued her plan, eager to show the flat-faces how friendly she was. She pressed up against the bars of her cage, waiting for the first appearance of her captors.

  As soon as they opened the door of the den, the other creatures set up their usual racket, flapping about or scrabbling at their bars. Lusa refused to let it bother her and just sat quietly, trying to make a show of looking gentle and safe. But the flat-faces paid her no attention, just checking the rows of cages.

  Disappointed, Lusa told herself she would have a better chance of impressing them once she was allowed outside. Scuffling her paws impatiently, she heard a clinking sound from the outer flap and realized that must mean the flap had been opened.

  She skipped outside and waited for the flat-faces to appear with the morning food.

  What did I do when I was in the Bear Bowl? she asked herself, trying to remember. What made the flat-faces laugh? Glancing around, she spotted the log she had clawed in her fit of rage the day before. Maybe I could think of a game with that. . . .

  Lusa felt stiff and awkward as she padded up to the log and gave it a prod. The days when she had been a carefree cub playing in the Bear Bowl seemed like they had happened to a different bear. But the flat-faces had appeared now, delivering food bowls to each enclosure, and she knew she had to think of something quickly.

  I know! I’ll pretend that it’s a salmon, and I’m going to catch it!

  Lusa skipped from side to side, making little pounces at the log. Then she pretended that the river had knocked her off her paws, and rolled over on her back, waving her paws in the air. Though she was careful not to look at the flat-faces, she was aware that they had stopped to watch and heard them let out cheerful barking sounds.

  A quick glance showed Lusa that the young female flat-face was hanging back behind the older ones, clearly still wary of her. Staying back from the mesh, Lusa carried on playing, then bounced over to her fruit bowl and began to eat, holding the fruit in her front paws like she was a ground squirrel.

  The flat-faces at the Bear Bowl liked to see that—only the spirits know why!

  But when she looked up with a chunk of apple in her paws, Lusa was disappointed to see that the older flat-faces had gone on to deliver the rest of the food bowls, and the young one had vanished altogether.

  What’s the point of being cute if no one is watching?

  Leaving the rest of the fruit, Lusa slumped down beside the mesh near Taktuq. “I tried to make friends with that young one, but it didn’t work,” she complained.

  “It didn’t work yet,” Taktuq corrected her.

  Lusa shrugged. She watched as the young flat-face reappeared from one of the small flat-face dens that were clustered outside. She went into the fox’s enclosure to take him out on the vine. Lusa’s paws itched to join them as they ran up and down and played on the grass beyond the mesh. The fox rolled over, waving his paws happily as the young flat-face rubbed his belly.

  A growl from the enclosure next to her distracted Lusa, and she spotted the coyote glaring at her again, its teeth bared. Lusa curled her lip at it, frustration at her captivity spilling over into anger.

  I’ve fought fiercer coyotes than you, you mangy carrion-eater! she snarled inwardly. But now I’ve got to be little and sweet and gentle, so consider yourself lucky!

  The day seemed to drag by. After the young flat-face returned the fox to his enclosure, she disappeared again. Bored and frustrated, Lusa flopped down and tried to sleep, slipping into an uneasy doze.

  Sunhigh came and went before the young flat-face came out again. This time she was with the older male. They were playing with a small, round, scarlet-colored object, throwing it to each other on the grass outside the pens.

  Lusa watched curiously as the gray-furred male threw the object too high. It soared over the young female’s head and landed with a thump in Lusa’s enclosure, making her jump. The young flat-face let out a cry of surprise.

  Lusa trotted forward and patted the object. It was like a smooth, round, lightweight stone. It weighed less than an apple, and yielded slightly when Lusa pressed it with her paw. Fascinated, she rolled it about, aware of the flat-faces watching her. Time to try again. Using a bit more force, she made the thing roll away from her, then chased it.

  I feel like such an idiot! Lusa thought. What would Toklo say if he could see me now?

  But it was working. The young flat-face let out happy barks, and clapped her front paws together. In the next enclosure Taktuq tilted his head, listening. “Now what are you up to?” he asked.

  Lusa paused, her breath coming in quick puffs. “I’m playing with this round thing the flat-faces threw,” she explained. “They’re watching me—they think it’s fun.”

  “Then you’re doing well,” Taktuq grunted from behind his mesh. “Who would have thought a wild bear could think up tricks like that?”

  Lusa couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or sympathetic, so she ignored him, just as she ignored the coyote, still snarling and snapping on her other side.

  She kept playing with the round thing, being as cute as possible, but then the young flat-face turned around and trotted away. Lusa shoved the round thing aside and clawed at the log in frustration, forgetting that the older male was still watching her.

  “Careful,” Taktuq warned her. “Don’t spoil it now.”

  Moments later the young flat-face returned, followed by the older female. The young one had a piece of fruit in her hand, and she pushed it through the mesh to Lusa while both the older flat-faces stood watchfully nearby.

  Lusa padded up to the mesh and very carefully took the fr
uit from the young female’s paw. While she was eating, the gray-furred male said something to the younger one, and they both walked away with the older female. The young flat-face looked back over her shoulder and waved one hairless paw at Lusa.

  Lusa swallowed the last of the fruit and stretched out, feeling exhausted from so much thinking and pretending. Is my plan working? she fretted. Will I escape? She wondered where Toklo and Yakone and Kallik were, and what they were doing. They must be looking for me, probably going out of their minds with worry. Will Ujurak tell them that I’m underneath his stars?

  Even if he did, Lusa knew that she couldn’t expect her friends to come into this den and let her out. If they got caught, none of them would make it to Great Bear Lake. She would have to escape and find them. At least the stars were a sign to her that she shouldn’t give up, because she knew that Ujurak and Ursa hadn’t abandoned her.

  Drifting into sleep, Lusa dreamed that she had turned into a bird. Instead of her familiar black fur and four sturdy legs, she had glossy feathers and strong wings, which she beat, reveling in the sensation of the air currents holding her up as she soared to the top of a tall tree.

  She flew higher and higher, above denning places and the BlackPaths, up into the sky, the firebeasts below growing smaller and smaller until she couldn’t see them anymore. She soared over mountains, rivers, plains, and ice, searching and searching for her friends. Her eyes were so powerful that she could pick out the tiniest leaf or pebble, the least flicker of movement as a vole slipped out from the shelter of a bush. But there were no bears in all the wide landscape below her.

  “Where are you?” she called in her harsh bird voice. “Where are you?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Toklo

  “Kallik, we’ll walk along the crevasse and meet you at the end!” Toklo bellowed down into the ice. He thought he could hear a faint response but couldn’t make out the words. “I’m not sure if she can hear me,” he added to Yakone, who looked stunned, his eyes full of horror at the way Kallik had simply disappeared.