by Erin Hunter
“So am I.” Toklo’s belly was howling, but he knew he had to ignore it. “It’s not safe to hunt yet. The wolves might still be around.”
Night had fallen and moonlight trickled through the branches above. Toklo struggled to stay awake; Lusa had long ago closed her eyes, and some bear had to keep watch. He tried to think of what they ought to do next, but the shock of losing Ujurak seemed to fill his mind with thick, choking earth.
Toklo jerked fully awake when he heard the sound of another animal pushing its way through the undergrowth.
Lusa’s head shot up, her eyes stretched wide with alarm. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Keep quiet.”
Toklo took a few deep sniffs. The animal approaching was another bear. He braced himself for a fight, sinking his claws into the damp earth. Had they strayed past the clawmarks of an adult grizzly who would attack them for trespassing on his territory?
The rustling stopped; tensing his muscles, Toklo prepared to leap out. But I’ll never beat a full-grown grizzly. I can’t keep myself safe, let alone Lusa.
Then a voice came out of the darkness. “Toklo? Lusa? Are you there?”
Lusa jumped up with a happy squeal and wriggled underneath the lowest branches. “Ujurak, over here!”
A wave of relief crashed over Toklo. He pushed through the thorns to see Ujurak, back in his bear’s shape, standing a couple of bearlengths away along the bank of the stream. Lusa was pressing her muzzle against Ujurak’s. “Thank you for saving us.”
Toklo’s relief was blotted out by anger, like storm clouds covering the sun. “I thought you were dead!” he roared. He paced forward until he could look Ujurak in the eye. “Didn’t you hear me telling you to hide in the stream?” he growled.
“Yes, I know, but…” The cub sounded confused. “I wanted to be something fast enough to lead the wolves away. And then I felt myself changing.”
“It was a stupid thing to do!” Toklo wasn’t sure if Ujurak had changed on purpose, and he guessed that Ujurak didn’t know, either. “A mule deer isn’t faster than wolves.”
“I know. But mule deer are clever, Toklo. In that shape I could jump over logs and boulders and flat-face fences. I could leap up onto high rocks. Sometimes the wolves had to go around, and I could dodge when they were out of sight, and confuse the scent. In the end I lost them.”
Toklo could imagine the furious chase, and couldn’t help being impressed by his friend’s courage. “You took your time getting back,” he grumbled.
“I know, but…” Ujurak shifted his paws uneasily. His eyes were full of sadness. “In that shape I could feel what the deer felt. I followed their trail as far as a wide stone path with silver beasts roaring on it, and I saw flat-face dens where the deer used to live. They miss their home, Toklo. There isn’t enough room for them and the wolves on this side of the ridge.”
“Who cares what mule deer feel?” Toklo huffed, but Ujurak went on, the fur above his eyes wrinkling with concern.
“I thought every sound in the woods was a flat-face hunter coming after me. When I drank from a pool the water tasted sour, as if it was dying. The deer’s world is getting smaller and sicker, Toklo.”
“Are we going to get sick?” Lusa whimpered, her black eyes round and shiny in the half-light.
Toklo shrugged. “Not if we do what we always do, and fight to survive. Life is hard. It always has been.”
Ujurak sighed, and Lusa touched his shoulder with her muzzle, ruffling his fur with her warm breath. A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed through Toklo. He realized that his mouth was dust dry from fear and thirst, and turned away, padding back to the stream to drink.
“No!” Ujurak exclaimed. “You can’t drink from there. I told you the water’s sick!”
“But I’m thirsty!” Toklo retorted. He dipped his muzzle into the cold, fur-soft current, aware all the time of his two companions standing silently behind him. The water tasted fine to him.
CHAPTER THREE
Kallik
The white bear cub Kallik crouched at the top of the slope, taking a last look at the burning metal bird and the body of Nanuk slumped beside it. She knew that she had to find the place where the spirits danced on the ice, but it was hard to tear herself away from the stubborn, lonely she-bear who had protected her. Nanuk’s fur had been so cold when Kallik woke up, still curled in the curve of the older bear’s belly, after the metal bird fell out of the sky.
Too dazed to wonder which direction she should take, Kallik began to scramble down the slope on the far side of the ridge. Stinging sleet buffeted her face, making her screw up her eyes; ice-cold mud soaked between her paws and into her pelt. Her whole body ached and pain stabbed through one foreleg whenever she put that paw to the ground.
At the bottom of the slope rocks poked through the muddy ground, where clumps of tall grasses were bent almost flat by the sweeping wind. Kallik staggered forward for a few more bearlengths, until she stumbled over a slanting rock and rolled into a hollow. She knew she ought to pull herself to her paws and struggle on, but even raising her head felt like trying to lift an ice floe. Sparkling darkness flooded her eyes; she collapsed on the ground and lay still.
Kallik was floating, her body and legs as soft as snowflakes drifting through a night without stars or wind or the scent of water.
Kallik! Kallik!
What is it, Mother? Kallik looked all around, but nothing broke the darkness: not Nisa’s white pelt, or the twinkling of her mother’s spirit-star. Where are you?
I am with you, little one, her mother’s voice replied. I am always with you.
Then why can’t I see you?
One day you will, her mother told her gently. But not yet.
Why not? Kallik longed to curl against the warmth of her mother’s belly and listen to her stories again.
Because there is something you must do. I cannot travel with you, my precious child. You must go on alone.
I can’t….
You can. You are strong, little one. You have survived.
The wind rose, drowning Nisa’s voice.
No! Kallik cried. Mother, don’t leave me!
You are strong, Nisa repeated in a sighing breath that was lost in the sound of the wind.
Kallik’s mind drifted until she thought she was swinging in the net again, far above the ground with the wings of the metal bird clattering overhead. There was fire, she remembered, and a dreadful screeching as the bird fell from the sky. She seemed to hear the screeching all around her now, filling the whole world….
Her eyes flew open to see a firebeast bearing down on her, roaring as if she were its prey. Instinctively Kallik rolled to one side. The firebeast swept on, roaring and flattening her fur with the wind of its passing.
Kallik lay without moving, without even breathing, until the firebeast had vanished into the distance and its growling died away. She realized that she was lying beside one of the flat-faces’ stone paths, which she hadn’t noticed in the dark and sleet the night before. Now the gray light of morning showed her the stone path stretching out of sight in both directions, through a sea of mud broken up by clumps of grass and stunted bushes. Clouds covered the sky, but Kallik guessed the sun was barely above the horizon.
When she tried to get up, every one of her muscles shrieked in protest. The fur on her injured foreleg was matted with blood. Kallik dragged herself a few bearlengths from the stone path and crouched to lick her leg until the fur was clean and she could see the jagged gash beneath. A little more fresh blood oozed out of it, but the pain had ebbed.
At least I’m alive, she reminded herself. Not like Nanuk. She hunched her back against a fresh pang of grief, feeling dust under her eyelids when she screwed up her eyes. Opening them again, she blinked to make them water.
She was gathering her strength to stand up when she heard a high-pitched barking coming from the other side of the stone path. She heaved herself to her paws and took cover behind a bush, then peered out through the twis
ted branches. The long, pale grass on the opposite side of the path parted and a reddish brown Arctic fox emerged. It was thin, with all its ribs showing, and one of its ears was torn as if it had been in a fight. It hesitated for a heartbeat, then ran across the path and passed within a couple of bearlengths of Kallik’s hiding place. Its muzzle was close to the ground, as if it was tracking prey.
At the thought of food Kallik’s empty belly seemed to roar as loudly as the firebeast. Setting her paws down lightly, she emerged from the bush and began to follow the fox.
The creature twisted and turned among the clumps of grass, too intent on its prey to notice it was being followed. The wind helped Kallik, blowing the fox’s scent toward her. Sometimes its brown pelt blended into the muddy ground so that Kallik lost sight of it, but she could still smell it, and never lost the trail.
At last the fox skirted a thorn thicket and disappeared on the other side. Kallik heard a scuffling sound, followed by a shrill squeal that was abruptly cut off. She pressed herself close to the ground, and crept around the thicket to see the fox standing over the body of a hare. The scent of the freshly killed prey tore into Kallik’s belly like a claw. Roaring, she rose up from the cover of the grasses and bore down on the fox. The animal shot one terrified glance at her and fled.
Kallik crouched over the hare’s body. All her instincts were telling her to swallow it in two or three famished gulps.
Not so fast, little one. She heard her mother’s voice, teaching her and Taqqiq, back on the ice. Gulp your food like that, and you’ll give yourself bellyache.
Kallik sank her teeth into the body of the hare and tore off a mouthful, giving herself time to savor the rich juices before she swallowed it and dipped her muzzle to take another bite.
A rustling sound alerted her and she whipped her head around. The fox was glaring at her from underneath a prickly bush. Kallik planted one paw on the hare and bared her teeth in a snarl. “It’s mine!”
The fox backed off, but as she ate Kallik could sense that it was still around. Tough luck; this is my kill now. You’ll have to catch another.
With her belly comfortably full, Kallik retreated into the nearby thicket and curled up at the foot of a tree to sleep. When she woke, mist had crept over the landscape, and the dim light told her evening was approaching. Her jaws parted in a huge yawn and she swiped her tongue a few times over the wound in her leg. The bleeding had stopped, and when she stood up and put weight on her paw she felt no more than a dull ache.
Shaking scraps of leaf from her pelt, Kallik sniffed the air. Her spirits rose as she detected the scent of water on the wind. Perhaps she wasn’t far from the place where the ice returned, where the bears were gathering.
“Maybe Taqqiq will be waiting for me,” she said aloud.
She set out, facing into the wind, following the scent of the water. The dim light faded until she was walking in darkness, but the smell still guided her pawsteps.
She was tiring as she plodded up an endless slope, with no trees to shelter her from the wind, and scratchy grass under her paws. Her legs felt too heavy to lift, and there was an ache between her shoulders. Hunger had begun to gnaw at her belly again. But she kept going, sure that the water she was seeking was not far away.
At last she reached the crest of the hill and looked down. In front of her paws, the ground fell away steeply; a few bearlengths below her lay a dark stretch of water.
But this was not the place Kallik had been hoping to find. There was no sign of ice, no sign of other bears. The only sound was the water lapping gently among the reeds that fringed it. And she could just make out the shore on the other side of the water. It was as if the bay had reached a paw into the land. She remembered the vast stretches of glittering ice where she had been born, and thought that her heart would break in two from longing to be back there.
“Where am I?” Kallik cried, but there was no bear to answer her. “What’s happening to me?”
She looked up into the night sky, hoping to see the Pathway Star hanging in the darkness to guide her. But all she could see was the mist. Terror and confusion swept over her again; she felt as helpless as a fish flapping out of the sea. She could smell salt and seaweed, but no trace of the ice she craved. She would have to struggle on even farther before she found it, and she didn’t know which way to go.
Stumbling with weariness, she made her way down the slope, weaving among scrubby plants and rocks until she reached the water’s edge. She climbed onto a dark rock that poked out over the water and crouched there, gazing into the indigo depths.
The wind picked up, shaking the reeds and rippling the surface of the water. Her mother had told her that all water was melted ice, but Kallik felt no sense of familiarity with this strange place. Instead, the darkness seemed to beckon to her, and she remembered how her mother, Nisa, had slipped away, saving Kallik from the orca. Kallik fought the temptation to slide into the water like her mother, to let it close over her head and cover her. Then she wouldn’t have to struggle anymore, and maybe she would find her mother’s spirit somewhere below the restless surface.
Kallik stretched out her paw, reaching down to touch the ripples.
Taaaaa…qqiiiiq.
She snatched back her paw and pricked her ears.
She could hear the lapping of water against the rocks, and the wind stirring the reeds. It sounded like the whispering of the ice spirits.
Taaaa…qqiiiiq, it came again.
Hot shame swept over Kallik. She had been within heartbeats of giving up. In her dream her mother had told her that she was strong, and Nanuk had said the same. Kallik didn’t feel strong, but she knew she had to keep going. The sound of her brother’s name on the wind made her realize that she couldn’t leave this life without knowing what had happened to him.
“Ice spirits, where should I go?”
She looked up. The night sky was muddy looking and starless, and offered no guidance. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the Pathway Star. Her memories of the harsh sound of the metal bird and the roaring flames clouded her thoughts. She opened her eyes, but there was still no sign of the star.
“Where are you?” Kallik called. “I need you.”
She dropped her head and stared at the water as the wind shook the reeds. As she stared, a tiny speck of light appeared on the water. The Pathway Star. She didn’t dare to look up, but she knew it was shining above her, beyond the spur of water, guiding her paws along the edge of the bay.
“Ice spirits, is this my way?” she whispered.
Suddenly, the mist cleared and moonlight shone on the water, obliterating the Pathway Star in a dazzling strip of light that reached away from her paws.
Kallik stood up and opened her eyes wide in astonishment.
The ice-path rippled brightly, but it did not lead along the edge of the bay toward the Pathway Star, which Kallik expected it to do. Instead, it stretched along the part of the lake which led away from the sea, away from her birth lands, into unknown places.
“Ice spirits,” she whispered. “Bears belong by the sea. Are you telling me to leave and go inland?”
Taaa-qqqiiiiq, the spirits murmured.
Kallik watched as the ice-path rippled and gleamed along the narrow spur of water, pointing away from the sea. She had lost her mother; she could not lose her brother, too, not if there was the tiniest snowflake of a chance that she might find him.
“All right, Taqqiq,” Kallik whispered. “I will turn my back on the Pathway Star. I will go where I have to. And I will find you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Lusa
Lusa stood beside Ujurak on a flat rock jutting out from the ridge. After they escaped from the wolves, the shape-shifting grizzly cub had led them back into the mountains, where they trudged on for days with little food or water, and no shelter from the relentless, claw-sharp wind. Lusa jumped at every unexpected noise. Sometimes she thought she could pick up the distant scent of wolves, but to her relief they never caught sight o
f any slinking over the rocks.
Toklo padded up to join them. “How long do we have to stay up here?” he huffed. “There isn’t a sniff of prey.”
The air was full of the scent of freshwater; a few bearlengths below where the cubs were standing a stream gushed out from a gap among the stones and leaped from rock to rock down the mountainside until it vanished into the trees far below. Instead of replying to Toklo, Ujurak slid down and drank from the spring.
“Do you want to starve?” Toklo snapped. “If you ask me, we should never have left the forest.”
Ujurak looked up; glittering drops of water sparkled on his muzzle. “Our path has divided,” he replied. “Our way is out of the mountains now, following the water. My mind is full of the sound and scents of water.”
“Well, of course it is!” Toklo muttered. “You’re standing with your paws in a stream!”
He scrambled down the slope until he stood next to Ujurak. Lusa followed and dipped her nose in the stream. The water was cold and delicious; she couldn’t remember when she’d last enjoyed a drink so much.
I’m sure this water isn’t sick, she thought, remembering Ujurak’s unhappiness on the night they escaped from the wolves. Maybe Ujurak is worrying about nothing.
Toklo dipped his head to drink, too; while his snout was plunged in the stream, Lusa checked him over, giving him a good sniff. His eyes were clear and his scent was just the same; he was bad tempered, but no more than usual. Drinking from the stream didn’t seem to have done him any harm, even though Ujurak-deer had been convinced the water was sick.
Ujurak padded a few paces farther down from the ridge and waited for the others to finish drinking. His eyes were bright and eager.
“This stream is a sign, right?” Lusa said, as she and Toklo scrambled down to join him. “I wish I could understand them like you do. Will you show me how?”
Toklo let out a snort. “One bear seeing invisible signs is quite enough. You’d be of more use, Lusa, if you learned to hunt properly.”