Great Bear Lake

by Erin Hunter

  “Taqqiq?” she called.

  There was no reply but the whispering of the wind as it carried the bear scent toward her, along with the scent of mud and reeds and empty places. Following the sound of the voices, Kallik climbed up to the top of the rise. On the other side, she saw muddy banks leading down to a small, reed-fringed pool. The bears were rolling around in the mud, plastering it on their fur and splashing one another, then flinging themselves down the muddy slopes until they landed in the water at the edge of the pool.

  Kallik took a few paces down the slope, mud squelching between her toes. “Taqqiq, what are you doing?” she demanded. She felt small and shrill beside the bigger male bears.

  There was a sucking sound as Taqqiq pulled himself up out of the mud. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want?”

  Kallik wanted to wail out loud. What had happened to her brother since they shared their games on the ice? “I want to talk to you.”

  “Tell her to go away.” Salik flicked a glob of mud at Taqqiq; it hit his neck and slid stickily down into his fur. “We don’t want her hanging around.”

  Taqqiq glanced back at him. “I’d better see what she wants. She’ll never leave us alone if I don’t.” Wading out of the mud, he came to a halt in front of Kallik. “Well?”

  “What are you all doing? Why do you want to play in that disgusting stuff?”

  “We’re not playing,” Taqqiq said loftily. “This was Salik’s idea. He’s very clever.”

  Kallik gave a disbelieving sniff.

  “It’s to disguise us when we get to the other bears’ territory,” Taqqiq went on. “With mud plastered all over our pelts, they’ll never notice us sneaking up.”

  “You think it hides your scent?” Kallik couldn’t believe that any bear could be so stupid. “Well, it doesn’t. It just makes you smell like filthy bears.”

  Taqqiq turned away with an offended grunt, and took a couple of paces back toward the muddy pool.

  “No, Taqqiq, wait! That’s not what I wanted to say.”

  “What, then?” Taqqiq still looked unfriendly.

  “I want to know why you’ve started stealing food from other bears. That’s not what our mother taught us.”

  “But she isn’t here now, is she?” Taqqiq growled. “We’re doing it because we don’t want to starve.”

  A tiny spark of anger woke in Kallik. “But it’s okay if other bears starve?”

  Taqqiq’s eyes hardened. “Rather them than us.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying that!” Kallik exclaimed, the spark of anger fanned to flame. “Don’t you remember how it felt when bigger bears stole our food?”

  Taqqiq shrugged. “We’re bigger now. Bigger and stronger.”

  “But it’s wrong, Taqqiq.” Kallik shook her head hopelessly. “There has to be a better way.”

  “Then you go and figure out what it is,” Taqqiq snarled, facing her with sullen fury in his eyes. “The spirits of the ice have abandoned us. They’ve turned their backs on us, so it’s time for us to turn our backs on them.”

  “Back there”—Kallik jerked her head toward the place where the other bears had gathered to greet the Longest Day—“you said you didn’t believe in the ice spirits. Or was that just when Salik was listening?”

  Taqqiq shrugged again, uneasily this time. “I dunno. But if they do exist, they don’t care about us, so what difference does it make?”

  Kallik felt despair, like the orca dragging her down into darkness. “I’ve looked for you for so long,” she murmured. “Sometimes I thought you were dead, but I never stopped looking.”

  “I saw our mother die.” Taqqiq’s voice shook a little. “I thought you were dead, too. I’ve done what I had to survive.”

  “And so did I!” Kallik burst out. “It was so hard. We were too young to be left alone.” Anxious to keep him talking, she added, “What happened to you, after we were separated?”

  “I was scared,” Taqqiq admitted quietly, as if he didn’t want the others to hear. “I watched the orca drag our mother down, and then I couldn’t see you anymore, either. I thought they must have taken you as well. I knew I had to get to land, but I didn’t know which way to go. I just ran along the ice until I couldn’t run anymore.”

  As he was talking, Taqqiq settled down beside his sister, nestling his haunches into the prickly grass. A glint of hope kindled in Kallik, bright as the Pathway Star.

  “The next day was clear again. I looked for you and couldn’t see you, so I swam across to the next piece of ice.”

  “But I came back to look for you!” Kallik exclaimed. “I never saw you.”

  Taqqiq looked at his mud-stained paws. “There was so much ice and sea…. I could scent the land, so I just kept on going until I got there. I was so hungry. I saw a mother bear giving some fish to her cubs, and I stole some when she wasn’t looking.”

  “Did you try eating grass?” Kallik asked. “I did, but it’s not very nice.”

  “Grass!” Taqqiq huffed. “That’s not food for bears. I found some berries, though. They were okay. I tried following other bears, to see what they did; if you’re careful, they’ll lead you to food.”

  Kallik shuddered. “I was too scared to get close. Our mother said that adult bears sometimes eat cubs, remember?”

  “Well, they didn’t eat me!” Taqqiq boasted. “I used to creep up and hide, and made sure the wind didn’t carry my scent to them. And sometimes if they quarreled over some prey, I could take it while they were fighting.”

  “I met a bear called Purnaq who showed me the place where all the bears were waiting by the sea.”

  “I was there!” Taqqiq exclaimed. “I looked for you, but I didn’t see you.”

  “I looked for you, too.” Kallik shivered. She had been so close to her brother and had never realized it. Did the spirits have some purpose in keeping them apart until the Gathering here beside the lake? “But there were so many bears there…. Did you see the old bear with the torn claws?”

  “Yes—stupid creature,” Taqqiq scoffed. “Calling out to the spirits—like they’re going to listen!”

  A pang of pain clawed at Kallik’s heart. She had felt sorry for the old bear.

  “I saw him attack the white firebeast,” she said. “That was brave.”

  Taqqiq scratched his ear. “Brave but stupid. I’d bet you a whole seal that the no-claws wouldn’t come anywhere near the bears if they knew we could hurt them.”

  “I suppose…” Kallik agreed reluctantly. “It was weird: all those no-claws inside the firebeast, staring at us.”

  “Yeah. The firebeast is stupid, too. We tracked it the whole way into the no-claws’ dens.”

  “We?” Kallik echoed, with a flicker of apprehension.

  “Salik and the others.” Taqqiq glanced down at the pool where the other three were still throwing mud at one another. “Salik is a good bear to be with. He’s strong and clever. He makes sure his friends get enough to eat.”

  Even if he steals from other bears?

  “I went into the no-claws’ place, too,” she said, changing the subject. “That was where—”

  She wanted to tell Taqqiq about the no-claws with the fire-sticks, and how they had tried to take her and Nanuk back to the ice. Would Taqqiq ever believe that she had flown underneath a metal bird? She had so much to tell him! She wanted to pour out everything about her travels, to let her brother share how scared she’d been and how she had managed to struggle through. Except for the fox, she told herself. If Taqqiq thinks it’s okay to steal from other bears, he’d never understand about the fox.

  But a shout came from Salik, interrupting her. “Taqqiq, are you going to sit there all day?”

  Taqqiq hauled himself to his paws. “Coming!”

  “No,” Kallik begged. “Taqqiq, please stay with me. It was much better on the ice, when we helped each other. Remember how you said you’d protect me in the sea, when Nisa first said we had to swim?”

  For a long moment Taqqiq gaz
ed at her. Then he shook his head. “That was then,” he growled. “Everything is different now. There’s no ice here, and bears have to do what they can to survive.”

  The other three bears had dragged themselves out of the mud and padded up the slope to join Taqqiq. Salik was in the lead. He stalked up to Kallik and glared down at her; Kallik’s nose wrinkled at the rank smell of the mud clinging to his pelt.

  “Don’t follow us again,” he snarled, and added to Taqqiq, “I don’t care if she’s your denmate. If she doesn’t leave us alone I’ll claw her pelt off.”

  “He means it,” Taqqiq warned her.

  And you would let him? Kallik shrieked inside.

  “Go back to the other bears,” Taqqiq went on. “Just stop following me around, okay?”

  Kallik nodded. With a last snarl at her, Salik turned away, leading the others around the lake toward the line of dark trees where the other bears were. Kallik watched them racing along the shore until they crashed into the trees and disappeared. Then she rose to her paws and followed cautiously, taking advantage of every dip in the land and scrawny bush for cover.

  You can’t tell me what to do, Taqqiq. I want to know what you’re up to.

  At last she reached the outermost trees and paused briefly, sniffing their warm scent and listening to the rustle of wind in the branches. Padding forward, she felt the odd, spiky sensation of needles under her pads. She looked around warily, but she couldn’t see or hear Taqqiq and the others, though she caught a trace of their fading scent. There were no other white bears, either.

  Then she heard pawsteps on the other side of a patch of bushes. Kallik pushed her way through, glad that they didn’t have thorns this time, and halted in amazement. A small group of bears was foraging across an open patch of ground, pausing beside the bushes to strip berries and leaves with sharp, clever white teeth. But these bears were tiny.

  And their fur was black!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lusa

  “Wake up!” The excited voice roused Lusa from sleep and a paw prodded her sharply in the side. “Come on, Lusa, hurry!”

  Lusa grunted and opened eyes bleared with sleep to see Miki’s excited face peering into hers. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s the start of the Longest Day! We’ve got to be there for the sunrise ceremony.”

  Lusa yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, I’m coming.”

  She scrambled down the trunk after Miki and headed through the trees toward the lakeshore. More black bears were emerging from the forest, crowding together along the water’s edge, just inside the barrier of leaves and berries she had seen them building. They waited in silence; near Lusa, a tiny cub squeaked with excitement and was hastily hushed by his mother. Lusa recognized the she-bear Issa, whom she had seen in the clearing the day before.

  The sky was streaked with red, and an intense golden glow on the horizon showed where the sun would rise. A breeze flattened Lusa’s fur as she stepped into the open, making the trees whisper, rattle, and hum. The lake water was rough with ridges of gray water; Lusa wondered if the bear she had seen the day before had made it to the island.

  “There’s Hashi,” Miki whispered. “He’s the oldest bear.”

  Lusa watched as a plump male bear clambered onto a rock at the edge of the lake. Leaves and berries were heaped at its base. He turned to face the glow in the sky, where a dazzling point of light blazed out as the sun struck the surface of the world. At the same moment the wind dropped; although there were still waves out on the lake, the trees where the bears were gathered became still.

  “Spirits of the trees,” Hashi called, lifting his snout to the open sky, “we thank you for the long days of sun that have brought us berries and other food.”

  “Too much sun if you ask me,” some bear muttered behind Lusa; she turned her head and spotted one of the half-grown cubs who had been playing in the clearing the day before. “It makes the berries all dry and yucky.”

  “And it’s too hot,” his friend agreed.

  “That’s enough.” An older she-bear—Taloa, Lusa thought—cuffed the first speaker over his ear. “Show a bit of respect.”

  The young bear rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

  “We beg you for more berries to feed us as the days grow shorter,” Hashi went on, “enough to sustain us through the dark times until the sun comes again.”

  “Fat lot of good asking for more berries.” The bears behind Lusa were muttering again. “As soon as the bushes grow, the flat-faces dig them up and leave them to die.”

  Issa let out a long sigh. “That’s true,” she whispered. “And they cut the trees down. So many bear spirits are being lost—when we die, will there be any trees left for our spirits?”

  Lusa shivered. If flat-faces were cutting the trees down, there might soon be a world without any trees at all! Everything would look like the empty land she had seen when she climbed the tree at the edge of the forest. Where would the black bears live before they died?

  Hashi saluted the rising sun with both forepaws raised. Lusa and the other bears copied him. Rocking back onto her haunches until she was sitting upright, she felt warmth and strength flow into her as the first pale rays struck her belly fur. Then the bears all remained still until the whole of the sun’s disc had appeared above the horizon. Lusa thought they were waiting for something.

  Then some bear cried, “There’s no wind! The spirits aren’t speaking to us!”

  “Have we made them angry?” another bear fretted.

  “Maybe the spirits know the flat-faces have defeated them!”

  More anxious cries and murmurs rose from the assembled bears. Hashi raised a paw for silence, but the clamor didn’t die down until an old she-bear scrambled onto the rock beside him.

  “The spirits will never give up fighting,” she announced. “Don’t be afraid. Trust them to take care of us as they always have.”

  “But how do you know?” Issa persisted.

  Miki poked Lusa in the side. “This is boring. Let’s go play.”

  Lusa would have liked to stay and listen. She was a proper black bear now, and she needed to understand their worries. But she didn’t want to lose her new friend, so she turned and followed Miki back into the forest.

  Pressing herself close to the ground, Lusa crept around the thornbush. Her paws scarcely rustled on the dead leaves that covered the ground. Pausing, she sniffed the air and cast a cautious glance behind her before creeping on again.

  As she rounded the bush, she spotted Miki; he had his back to her, intently scanning the undergrowth in front of him.

  But you’re looking the wrong way!

  Lusa bunched her muscles and pounced; Miki let out a squeal as she landed on top of him. The two cubs wrestled together among the bushes, rolling over and over and batting each other lightly with their forepaws; Lusa felt a delighted huff welling up inside her. This was like playing with Yogi in the Bear Bowl.

  The branches of a nearby tree waved up and down; Miki sat up with bits of leaf stuck all over his pelt as a bear’s face poked out from between the leaves.

  “Hi, Ossi!” Miki called. “Come down and meet Lusa.”

  A young male bear, bigger than Miki but not full-grown yet, swarmed down the tree, followed by a she-bear of about the same age. Both their pelts were a warm russet-brown color, and Lusa liked the lively sparkle in their eyes.

  “This is Ossi and his sister Chula,” Miki introduced them. “I met them on the way here. This is Lusa,” he added. “She came all the way here from a…a Bear Bowl.”

  Chula gave Lusa a friendly sniff, while Ossi asked, “What’s a Bear Bowl?”

  Lusa explained again, while the two cubs’ eyes stretched wide with astonishment.

  “And you came all this way by yourself?” Chula asked when she had finished.

  “No, I was with some other bears…brown bears.”

  Ossi looked shocked. “Rather you than me.”

  “No, they were—” Lusa he
sitated. Weird? Difficult? My friends? “They were okay,” she said at last.

  Ossi shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to travel with grizzlies. They’re dangerous.”

  “We ran into a grizzly on the way here,” Chula put in. “He was huge!”

  “What happened?” Miki prompted.

  “We were traveling through a forest,” Ossi said, “and we must have missed his markings on the trees, because he suddenly leaped out at us, roaring that we were on his territory.”

  Lusa remembered the brown bear who had almost killed her not long after she left the Bear Bowl. “What did you do?”

  “Climbed trees,” Ossi replied. “Fast.”

  “And then we crossed his territory, jumping from tree to tree so we never had to touch the ground,” Chula went on, her eyes dancing. “That stupid old grizzly followed us all the way, growling about what he would do to us when he caught us.”

  “But he didn’t catch us,” her brother finished. “Because we were always out of reach!”

  “I would have been terrified!” Lusa said admiringly.

  “Well…I was a bit scared when the branch I leaped onto bent over, and there I was dangling with the brown bear’s jaws snapping just below me,” Ossi admitted.

  His sister gave him a friendly shove. “I’ve never seen you climb so fast!”

  “I’m hungry!” Miki announced, springing to his paws. “Let’s see if we can find some food.”

  Ossi leaned forward, glancing around to make sure no other bears could hear him. “I know where there’s an ants’ nest.”

  Lusa remembered eating ants in the Bear Bowl. She liked the taste, but they were hard to catch, and tickly if they got into your pelt.

  “Ant grubs.” Chula swiped her tongue around her jaws. “Yum!”

  “Let’s climb.” Ossi headed for the nearest tree. “We don’t want every bear asking where we’re going.”

  Lusa followed, clambering from tree to tree while the branches waved around them. She’d never traveled like this before, and she found it hard to keep her balance as the branches dipped under her weight, lurching her close to the ground—which looked awfully hard from this high up.