by Sarah Davis
Penny’s scream was silent, and she felt her translucent self flying backwards, away from the scene to settle back into her existent body. She awoke sweating and sat up on her elbows. She looked around, unsure of where she was and her dream. Unease penetrated her consciousness. Blue whined and nuzzled her hand. She absently petted him behind the ear.
Penny, you okay? It was just a nightmare, Lucy thought to her.
Yeah, a nightmare…or perhaps… Her thoughts trailed off, and she shuddered as she recalled other visions. I hope it was just a nightmare and nothing more.
Like Noah said, the Inuit believe in astral projection among their shaman. You could have been drifting over an event taking place-
Penny cut her off. I am not Inuit and am certainly no shaman, Lu. Ah, it’s alright, just a dream, a night fantasy that was scary in its brutality. I saw that female several days ago, and my mind was over-thinking things. Too many papers read, not enough sleep lately. Go back to sleep, Lu. I will be fine. It was also possible that it was another premonition, which made her more anxious over the female bear.
She guiltily recalled telling Noah she would continue to try meditation. Ask Army for more help. But they had had no further discussions, so perhaps he forgot as well.
Okay, Lucy thought skeptically. Night, Penny. Love you.
Love you too, Lu.
It took Penny a long time to fall back asleep. She invited Blue up into her bed but only for a short time. She snuggled up to his large frame that he wedged between her and the wall. His warmth and steady breathing were a soothing balm to her raw soul. He reacted to the increase in heat and stretched out. As he did, his legs pushed against the wall, and his back pushed against her body, thrusting her out of bed. He was subsequently encouraged to return to his dog bed on the floor.
When Penny awoke the next morning, the unsettled notion still stayed heavy within her. It held on through the still, early morning hours as she dropped her mother off at the airport.
Eelyn, however, was very excited, and while normally her happy attitude was infectious, Penny found herself faking her smiles. She hated to see her mother leave, even if only for a few days. The way they behaved today, Penny wondered if she was acting more like the mother and her mother acting more like the parting daughter.
“Goodbye, sweetheart. Be good. Be safe! Have fun!” her mother told her as they hugged.
“Same to you, mother. I love you.”
“My love for you expands beyond the farthest universe, to Neverland…”
“Okay, enough, goofball.” Penny kissed her mother on the cheek and stepped back.
As they regarded each other, neither wiped at their tears until they turned away from each other. Penny left the airport before her mother’s plane took off to fly south to warmth, palm trees, and sandal weather. And millions of other people. Penny shuddered at the thought of all those people surrounding her. She did not miss the claustrophobia of big city life.
As her thoughts turned to life in Utqiaġvik, the vision from last night flashed. The unsteadiness returned and with it, nausea and vertigo. She needed something to ground her. Lucy was silent this morning.
She called Noah.
Hours later, after lunch, Noah and Penny left town, each running their own team. Sympathetic to her bumming about her mother’s trip, Noah suggested the outing, one last run before the next storm. There would not be too many more days of daylight dog sledding in their future with the onset of the endless night. He had also consented to venturing near the site where she had seen the digging bear.
As they set out, she found herself guiding her team toward the location of the polar bear den. Noah attempted to call her off her path, but she was deaf to his calls and her faster team pulled away from his. His slower team followed.
They stopped further out and staked the teams. She insisted they crawl up a ridge overlooking the area. Noah shot her a questioning look but followed without comment. The snow drifts had transformed the landscape, hiding the supposed opening to the den. As they looked, a polar bear wandered into their view.
“It’s not the same one I saw before. This is a male. No scars,” Penny spoke into the mic she earlier attached to the inside of her hood—her direct line to the earpiece Noah wore. “Has to be. Check out the urine staining.”
“A young one, too, by my guess.,” responded Noah. “Look at the absence of a very shaggy coat around his legs.”
“Noah, is that blood on his face?”
“Not just his face. What was he feasting on this far inland?” Noah asked. Penny felt her blood draining from her face as she focused on the bear. No, please no. It was only a dream.
The bear pushed its face into the snow and dropped its body, rolling around. After his snow bath was complete, he stood up and shook off the excess. Blood still covered the front of his body. The bear wandered off behind the den and east toward the coastline. Noah followed until the bear could not be visualized in his binoculars.
“He’s leaving, Noah. Let’s go check it out.”
“What?! No way, Penny. It’s too dangerous. He could come back.”
With a heavy heart, she responded. “Not likely, he ate, he’s full, he’s going to sleep for a while. Other bears or scavengers may come, though. Both our teams should be enough to keep them away and help us make a quick getaway if needed. Come on. Let’s hurry.”
“Did you see this happen? Is that why we came out here?” he asked.
She inhaled fear, exhaled resolve. “Yes.”
“Will it be safe to go out there?” he asked.
“I think so. I only envisioned the female’s death. Which, by the looks of it, already happened.”
Noah sighed and climbed back onto his sled. They urged their teams forward.
He wants to see what happened, too.
As the sleds capped the final drift blocking their full view, both were stunned by the violent scene. A bear, the presumed female bear Penny originally had seen, drug a hundred yards from her den. Her head and a front leg ripped from her body, and her belly ripped open.
Penny and Noah anchored their teams and walked shoulder to shoulder toward the carcass.
“What a waste,” he said with a disgusted look on his face.
“Why on earth would this happen? He didn’t look to be starving. Do you think it was a territorial thing?” Penny asked. Looks like some of those papers mother read were accurate. Polar bear cannibalism.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell for certain by just looking, but it doesn’t appear that he ate much, he mostly killed and dismembered.”
Noah approached the carcass and inspected it thoughtfully.
“I think I will try to skin her.” He regarded Penny gauging her response. “Army could tan the hide, and we could use it for warm clothes or a blanket. The storm coming tonight will most likely cover this up as well as our tracks,” Noah said.
Penny agreed.
With his sled positioned closer to the bear, Noah tied a couple of ropes to the handle and attached them to two chains from his packs. He began cutting the hide away, secured it with the chains, tightening the rope to hold the hide tight. He then removed his outer coat and changed gloves. As he continued skinning, he asked Penny to keep a look out.
She took her dog sled in the direction the male ventured, up and behind the den. They would be downwind of anything approaching from this direction and it provided a vantage point to see off in the other directions.
Penny staked the dogs and scrutinized the collapsed den. The snow was pushed up from the attack, but it appeared that only the opening was collapsed. Dark red blood discolored the area around her. She refused to think of what crafty hunters polar bears could be or that he could come up downwind of them at any time. The dogs would never smell him in the wind.
Noah called out that the bear showed signs of nursing. That made Penny even sadder than before. She contemplated the fate of the offspring.
Surely nothing could survive that, she thought, as she con
sidered the collapsed den.
Without a second thought, she double-checked her sled’s anchor and scanned the area one last time to make sure there was no sign of any approaching danger. She took a deep breath of fresh, frigid air and slowly exhaled, willing her fear to leave her to face only the wind and what lay before her in the den.
Once at the den, she began digging by hand down into what she assumed was the main chamber. The wind blew loose snow in her face, her goggles protecting her eyes. Within a short time, she reached the floor of the den where a fishy odor assaulted her nostrils. With the wind cut off in the den, she noted there was still a great deal of warmth left inside. The size of the den was quite large and held up relatively well from the assault.
She pulled at the large chunks of snow-ice and pushed them away until she discovered what she thought was a smaller room off the main chamber. The walls to this area were intact, but the entrance was too small for her to enter. She pulled herself out of the den and scanned the area, checking on the surroundings, the sled, and Noah.
She was surprised she missed the absence of the wind down below, although the cold was still creeping into her bones. She pulled her fingers down into fists inside her mittens, attempting to warm them.
Satisfied the coast was clear and her hands had warmed a bit, she dropped back down. Turning her head lamp on, she swept the new-found chamber. Her goggles began fogging up, and she removed them to see better. The walls remained intact, perhaps sheltered by the rocks. She reached in blindly, her fingertips painfully pulsing and preventing her from really feeling anything. She pulled back and removed the mitten from her right hand and reached back in. This time, she could feel a warm, smooth body encased.
Yes, there is movement.
She pulled back out and replaced her mitten. Using a pick from her pocket, she began chipping a larger entrance. Once satisfied, she reached back in with both hands and gently extricated two very small cubs. Her headlamp illuminated the small bodies. Less than a foot in length and weighing about a pound, each was covered by a fine coat of translucent fur over pink skin. She removed her mittens again and handled each cub, as she held her breath, looking for movement that would signal life. The rise and fall of a chest. The thrum of a heartbeat in the thin chest. She slowly let her lungful out as she saw movement from one cub. The second was cold to the touch and beginning to stiffen.
As she reached for the other cub in her lap, it stirred and made pitifully weak noises, responding most likely to the change in comfort. Her fingers touched the little cub’s body, nudging it, to which it responded with a weak wriggling. She opened her coat and found a pocket inside her warm coveralls loose enough to hold the cub snug against her. The cub nuzzled its head weakly into the bulk of her coat, which hid the slight bulge well enough against her almost nonexistent chest.
Hold on, buddy.
With one last look at the dead cub, she doused her headlamp and turned back to reality. Pulling her goggles back over her eyes, she worked her way back into the blinding whiteness.
Once her eyes adjusted, she checked her sled team, scanned the area and checked on Noah’s progress. The coast was clear, and the dogs relaxed. She was surprised to see Noah was already cleaning up.
“I knew you’d go looking for cubs,” he said. “There any live ones?”
“I found a dead one,” Penny said. Her heart heavy with her half-truth.
Noah nodded. “Not unexpected, I guess. Not sure what we would do with a live one anyway.”
Toast
As they sledded back to town, the cub occasionally wriggled inside her pocket. A crowd of thoughts milled around her brain, bumping into and jostling one another.
When did the cub last feed? Did it feed at all? Did it get chilled? Of course it got chilled. How long had it been chilled? Hold on, buddy.
It was Penny’s fear that the cub, fallen still for the last mile of the journey, had plausibly died, but she didn’t want to risk checking and alerting Noah that something was up. Really, the bear cub had a poor prognosis for life.
Breaking down the teams, Noah and Penny worked quietly and quickly cleaning ice out of the dogs’ feet, filling water bowls, unpacking sleds. Noah stashed the hide into one of the empty bins, locking it to keep out unwanted attention.
Upon exiting the barn, Penny noticed a different truck parked in the driveway. Dolores was visiting.
While Tiki, who Dolores was babysitting, ran amuck around the house, Army asked them how the run went. Noah glanced at Penny first and then to Army. “There is something we need to discuss with you. But later. I smell pie, so that should come first.” Noah walked over to the kitchen table.
“It’s peach, your favorite, Noah,” Dolores said, handing him a slice half the size of the pie pan. “You want some, Penny?”
She declined, citing a headache and rough stomach. She caught Noah’s worried glance out of the corner of her eye before bidding them goodbye and heading back to the door. Tiki ran over to her and grabbed her leg, shrieking with excitement. She threw her bottle at the door, held both hands up in the air and cried, “up!”
She wanted to hold the toddler, but that action might very well snuff the life out of the small white thing hidden in her jacket. While she hesitated, Noah walked over and scooped Tiki up in his arms. “Up, up! You want to go up?”
Tiki giggled as Noah swung her up in the air. As the focus turned to Noah and Tiki, Penny squatted down to check the laces on her boot. She scooped up the bottle that laid on the floor beside her boot and slid it her jacket pocket. Throwing a half-hearted wave in their direction, she withdrew.
On the way back to her house, Penny almost tripped over Blue, who tuned into her urgency and bounced around as if encouraging her. The cub remained still. Penny ran into the house, partially unzipping her jacket to get a quick look at the cub. She couldn’t sense its mental presence, but the chest rose and fell with slight breath.
Up on his perch, Edgar ruffled his feathers, puffing up like a ball of feathers and began walking the length of his perch, bobbing his head. His curiosity and excitement over the cub streamed into Penny’s consciousness, and she collected her thoughts for a moment to calm the rambunctious dog and energizing bird.
When her efforts took effect, Blue lay down on the kitchen floor, and Edgar glided down to rest next to the dog. Blue nuzzled the bird and refocused his attention on Penny. Meanwhile, Edgar climbed up between Blue’s front legs and nestled in. Continuing her undertaking, Penny grabbed a couple of towels and threw them on the couch. She collected a heating pad from the storage closet and plugged it in. Rushing into her room, she unceremoniously dumped the contents of a wood storage crate onto her bed and put it with the other supplies. She then laid the heating pad on the bottom of the crate, layered the towels over it, and placed the cub within the folds.
Penny, what are you doing with that?
Trying to see if I can save it. Do me a favor, Lu, and help me look up what I need to feed a polar bear cub. There should be something online.
Penny removed her outer clothing and joined Lucy in the search for information. Penny was the first to find an instruction manual on the feeding and care of polar bears in captivity.
Newborn polar bear formula:
Esbilac powder
Pediatric vitamins
Heavy cream
Lactase
Cod liver oil
Boiled water
Penny began looking through cupboards as Lucy repeated the ingredients and measurements mentally. There was the carton of cream in the fridge—so much for the planned creamed peas and potatoes for supper. The medicine cabinet held a bottle of cod liver oil pills. Eelyn stored cans of Esbilac, a puppy milk replacer, beneath the kitchen sink.
Well, mother is a vet.
Penny mixed as Lucy recited the recipe and heated up water as she searched for the missing lactase ingredient. Luckily, their mother developed lactose intolerance over the past year. Once their home-concocted formula was complete, she p
oured thirty milligrams of the solution into the stolen bottle and blew on the top to cool it down.
Do I even ask where you got a baby bottle? Lucy thought.
You can, but I won’t tell you I stole it from a toddler, that’s for sure.
Won’t it run too fast for the newborn?
Don’t think so. Rose and Dolores mentioned going back to a newborn nipple. They hoped the slow flow would make Tiki want to take to a cup.
With Lucy monitoring her actions mentally, Penny lifted the cub out of the crate and laid it back in her lap. She gently held its belly to keep it in position. While presenting the nipple, she smeared some of the formula against the cub’s mouth. It made weak sucking and whimpering noises and rooted around the towel.
“Come on baby, take the nipple.”
If it does, it probably won’t like the fake bear milk.
“No, it is so hungry that it will gladly eat it. Won’t you, baby? There you go, latch on. There’s a good baby bear.”
Stop with the baby-talk already, Penny! Seriously, not cool.
“Look at it, Lu. Look how tiny it is. It must be about a foot long. No more than a couple of pounds. And soft. And it is eating. Look at it, Lu.”
It looks like a giant baby rat.
“Shush.” Penny helped her mother feed many an infant dog or cat and the occasional foal. Although she enjoyed these times, something felt different with this baby.
They stayed quiet while the cub finished the bottle. It sneezed and rooted around for more.