To Linda and Neal Perrin
and to
Heidi Wilson
Holly Byers
Laney & Hunter
Brienna
Chapter 1
Tiny specks of ice filled the air and bit into my hide. Banks of white covered the mountain up to my knees. I followed carefully behind Mother, watching where each of her huge hooves left a print in the snow. It seemed as if we had been walking forever.
“Little Bub Moose, are you doing okay?” Mother’s beautiful face peered back at me. Small icicles hung from her chin and her dewlap—the loose, flabby, beardlike piece of skin that swayed beneath her throat.
“I’m fine. Are we there yet?”
Mother rolled her big brown eyes. “You just asked that a moment ago, Bub. We’re still not there.”
A strange growly sound came from my tummy. I looked at the ground. There were no signs of tender morsels to eat.
“I’m hungry. Are we almost there?”
“No, Bub. We still have to move farther down the mountain. A stand of pines and aspens will mark the entrance to a valley where the snow isn’t as thick. We should be able to find food there.” Mother gave a low snort and began walking again.
It would be nice to get some warm milk from my mother. I was almost big enough to forage all on my own but not quite. I had learned many lessons in the forest and could take care of myself. But Mother couldn’t stop to feed me. She needed all the strength that she had to keep us moving through the big snowstorm.
The sky darkened again. The wind whistled, driving the snow so thick that I could hardly see Mother’s rump. Ice slapped against my face. We had stopped for a short time during the night. Now we had to keep going. Mother was determined to get us to the shelter of the canyon that she knew. My feet slipped as I tried to keep pace with Mother’s long stride.
Alert for danger, I kept my ears perked. Mother had told me that we needed to be watchful for the wolves that were lurking in the trees. The only wolf that I knew was my friend Snow. We had gone on an adventure last fall when we were still babies. Actually, we had been lost together, but I really had a lot of fun with the little wolf.
It was hard to think that someone like Snow could be a danger to me. Snow had helped me learn about things in the forest. When his parents found us, they didn’t harm me in any way. They just wanted their baby back.
The forest was warm then. The leaves of the trees were just beginning to sprinkle down to the ground. We had played in them, hiding and jumping around for hours. The forest was very different now. Heavy snow covered everything. Small trees were shrouded in white. Some were totally buried by the heavy blanket of ice and snow.
The hungry feeling in my tummy kept coming back, but I knew that I must be brave for Mother. Someday I would be on my own. Being brave was probably a good lesson for me to learn. I could hear small grumbles coming from inside of me. Being brave was hard to remember when I was so hungry.
“Are we almost there?” I snorted for Mother.
“We may have to stop soon, Little Bub. It will take us another day or two before we reach the valley. We may have to rest.” Mother’s fur seemed to sag around her big bones. I suddenly noticed how tired she looked.
“It’s okay, Mother. We can stop if you think we need to.” I spread my long legs out to keep from slipping.
“That might be a good idea, Little Bub. Come, get some milk.”
I scooted closer to Mother’s warmth. When I leaned down to get my milk, I could see a broken willow tree a few feet away. Probably snapped by the weight of the snow, the place where it split was bright and shiny. The light-colored wood reminded me of my friend Dudley. Only, he didn’t break trees. He chewed them down. Mother’s milk made me feel safe and happy. I closed my eyes.
• • •
I could almost see Dudley and the clearing where we first met. I had been just a baby back then. Mother told me that Dudley was a beaver and had lived in the forest for a long time. Asleep near a pile of brush where Mother had left me, I almost got whacked with a little tree Dudley took down. He was a nice beaver and managed to warn me to get away, just as the branches fell near my bed. Dudley worked all the time. The other beavers weren’t nearly as busy as he was. Mother said that was why he got to stay at the pond. His children moved on to places of their own.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Dudley was doing right now. Was he working, or was he safe in his beaver lodge with his family? Or was he . . .
• • •
“That’s enough, Bub. I have to keep strong.” Mother’s voice snapped me from my daydream. She gently nudged me away. “I am going to lie down for just a bit.”
Mothers legs slowly folded beneath her. I looked around. It seemed safe enough, but Mother looked so weak. I stood over her listening for the sounds that meant danger.
It had been a long time since I had heard the wolves call in the distance. I listened for the special sound of Snow’s little howl. Straining my ears, I only heard the wind rustle the trees nearby. Even the wolves must be hiding in safe places.
Mother’s eyes were closed tight. White frozen powder swirled around us. Sometimes the icy crystals stung my eyes. Still I kept watch. Slowly I dropped to my knees, then curled up near Mother. I tucked my ears and listened only to the sounds of her breathing. A quick nap, then we would move on.
• • •
Heavy clumps of snow dropped from my lashes when I opened my eyes. I shook my head and glanced around. Mother was still asleep. I shoved my back against her belly. Small clouds came from her big nose. Pushing again, I moved her slightly.
“Mother, wake up. We have been asleep for a long time. We need to be moving on. It’s getting dark.” I stood and stared down at her.
“Bub Moose. I am so tired. Have we been here very long?” Mother asked.
“Long enough to get covered with snow and ice. We need to get going. I am hungry, and we have to get to the valley you told me about. I don’t think it is ever going to quit snowing.” I nudged Mother with my nose.
Struggling, she got to her feet. Shaking snow and ice from her body, Mother stuck her big nose into the air and snorted.
“You’re right, Little Bub. We must keep moving. Come on.”
Mother’s strides were shorter than before. It was easier to keep up with her. I even bumped into her rear a time or two.
“Bub, move ahead of me. Just keep walking along the mountainside until you see some trees. We need a shelter where we can spend the night.”
Mother let me lead. My hooves broke through the icy snowpack. Taking steps cautiously, I watched for the trees. Mother let out short snorts to let me know that we were on the right trail.
We followed along a ledge that was sheltered by the mountain. The little bit of light was beginning to fade. Being the leader made me feel very grownup and brave. Until . . .
A strange tingling feeling raced down my spine. It kind of prickled the hair at the back of my neck—just behind my ears. It was a weird feeling, like someone or something was watching. I looked all around. There was nothing but Mother. She was farther back than she was a moment ago. I slowed my pace as we moved on. But the strange tingling that made my ears twitch just wouldn’t go away.
A dark silhouette at the top of the mountain peak suddenly caught my attention. Like Mother had taught me, I stopped dead in my tracks. Sharp eyes focused, trying to make out what it was. I stood staring for a long time. I didn’t blink. I didn’t even breathe deep.
“What is it, Mother?” I whispered.
Mother didn’t say anything.
“It’s so dark I can’t tell what I’m looking at. Do you see it?”
Again th
ere was no answer. I turned to see if she was watching the same thing I was.
Panic filled my heart.
“Mother? Mother, where are you?” She was gone.
I forgot about the animal I thought I saw in the distance. Eyes wide, I perked my ears toward the spot where I had last seen Mother. Instead of her huge brown frame and her long beautiful nose, there was nothing. Behind me, the white emptiness of the falling snow was all I could see. I spun around so quickly I almost buried my hind legs in the deep soft powder. I lunged and yanked myself free.
I had to find her. What if she had fallen? What if she was hurt? I had to find her, fast!
“Hrronk . . . hrronk! Mother where are you?” My legs trembled as I charged back down the path.
I felt so very alone.
Chapter 2
“Hrronk, hrronk!” I trumpeted as loud as I could. My eyes searched the path as I hurried down the mountainside. Only one set of hoofprints had come this way. Mother hadn’t followed me.
“Hrronk, hrronk! Where are you?” I perked my ears listening for any familiar sound.
“Bub Moose, stop with the hrronking. You’ll start an avalanche. I was just coming to get you. You got off the path. Come this way. There is a stand of trees down there. It’s not much shelter, but it should protect us a little from the storm.”
Relief filled the pit of my stomach when I heard the sound of Mother’s voice. At the same time, the part of me that had been so brave and grown-up was suddenly replaced with fear. I would have to take care of myself soon, but I couldn’t even follow a simple path to safety. How could I be on my own when I wasn’t nearly as grown-up as I thought?
“Down here. Step carefully. The path is covered with ice. Don’t slip.”
I eased closer to Mother’s side. I rubbed against her. As the sky began to darken, I felt tired and afraid. I never wanted to leave Mother. Maybe I could stay with her forever.
“Watch out, Bub Moose. It is a long way to fall if you aren’t careful. Keep your eyes sharp and watch my steps. We’re almost there.” Mother nudged me slightly and I took my place behind her.
The small stand of fir trees didn’t offer much shelter from the driving snow. It did break the wind a bit. Beneath two trees we found a small pile of brush to nestle behind. Walking in circles, Mother tromped the limbs flat with her big hooves. When she was finally satisfied with our bed, she nestled down and motioned for me to come and curl up beside her.
The fir trees blocked the wind—but not much. Mostly it was Mother who kept me warm. I loved Mother so, so much. It wasn’t long before I dozed off.
• • •
I don’t know what pulled me back from my sleep. There was a deep covering of snow on me that was helping to keep me warm. But my back—where Mother was—that was very, very cold. Using my hooves and legs, I pushed back to snuggle tighter against her. Only I didn’t feel her warmth.
My eyes sprang wide. I snapped my head around to see where she’d gone. When I saw Mother wasn’t there, I raised up from the snow and scrambled to my feet.
Mother stood about three strides up the mountain. She seemed to be frozen, with her head high and her nose to the wind. Her nostrils flared as puffs of steam came from them.
“Mother? What is it?” I whispered in my softest hrronk.
She didn’t answer.
“Mother?”
“Something is there,” she whispered back, without turning to glance at me. “Something’s watching us.”
I stared into the darkness. The snow swirled thick and heavy.
“What is it, Mother?”
“Something.” That was all she said.
“I saw something, too,” I told her.
“Where?”
“When we were walking. Before I came back to you.”
“Do you know what it was?”
I shook my head. “No. It was on the crest of the mountain. The snow was very thick and it was almost dark. At first I wasn’t even sure I saw anything.”
“What do you think you saw?” Her eyes never left the dark hillside.
“I don’t know. For a second I thought it was my friend Snow. It was about the same size. Only it had a flat nose instead of a pointed one. And its tail was really long and skinny, instead of fluffy like Snow’s tail.”
“A long, skinny tail?” Mother asked.
“Yes. Do you know what it is?”
Mother didn’t answer. She stood for a long time. Her ears moved, first one direction then the other, picking up each little sound that might drift her way through the dark. Her nostrils flared and puffed, smelling for the slightest scent of danger. Her big shoulders were tense. Her muscles tight and ready.
“It sounds like Roscoe,” she answered finally.
My head tilted to one side. “What’s a Roscoe?”
Mother stomped a hind foot and turned to watch in a different direction.
“Roscoe is not a what, he’s a who. Roscoe is a mountain lion. Two days ago I thought I smelled a scent that he left to mark his territory. I thought he lived around here, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Are mountain lions dangerous?”
Mother shrugged her ears. “Not to moose. They are usually smart enough to leave us alone, unless we’re sick or hurt. But . . .” She raised her nose to the wind again. “But,” she went on, “it has been a very bad winter.”
I sniffed the air. I couldn’t smell anything. I stared where Mother was looking. I couldn’t see anything. Finally she gave a little sigh and glanced back at me.
“Lie down, Bub. There’s nothing to worry about. You need to get your sleep.”
“Are you going to snuggle with me, Mother?”
She smiled and gave a little toss of her head. “No. I’m not very tired. I think I’ll sleep standing up tonight.”
• • •
The next morning we climbed back to the path and went on our way. Mother still seemed tense. She led the way and kept glancing back over her shoulder at me and the path behind us. Then she let me lead for a while. If we came to a sharp turn in the trail that she couldn’t see around, she shoved in front of me and led the way.
At a spot near the very top of the mountain, Mother stopped and sniffed the ground. Then her head snapped up, and once again she bent and sniffed.
“Yep. It’s Roscoe. We should be out of his territory by this evening. Let’s keep moving.”
“What’s a territory, Mother?”
“Mountain lions have a territory or area of land where they live. They think they own a whole lot. Sometimes a hundred and fifty to two hundred miles of the mountains, they call their hunting range.”
“Hunting range?”
“They are meat eaters, Bub. But like I said last night, they usually don’t bother moose. Now, let’s keep going. We’ll be away from him by dark.”
Watching carefully because of the ice and snow, we walked down a steep slope, then up another mountain. Then we went down that mountain and up another. The snow wasn’t nearly as thick and mean as it was last night. We stopped near a bunch of aspen trees to forage in the snow. There wasn’t much to eat, so we didn’t stay long. When the sun was high in the sky, the snow picked up once more. The wind blew the snow and whistled as it whipped up the mountain slope where we walked. I ducked my head against the sting of the little bits of ice.
All at once I snapped up my head. That tingly feeling came crawling up my spine once more. It made my ears perk and twitch.
There was nothing there. Nothing but that creepy feeling.
It was about dark when we came down into a wide valley. The snow was heavy and deep, but the wind was not nearly as strong as it had been higher up.
“Is this it, Mother? Is this the valley? Are we there?”
“Not yet,” she answered. “We will probably reach our valley tomorrow. But this is a good place to spend the night.”
We wandered into a clearing. Mother spotted a big pile of brush that would block the wind. We had just started toward it when I
heard this strange crunching sound. I glanced over my shoulder.
A big animal raced across the snow. He came from behind us. The strange sound I heard was his paws crunching the snow as he tore across the clearing. His eyes were on me!
The tingling that I felt on my back wasn’t a tingle anymore. It was a chill that raced clear through me. It hit my legs and made me run. I only got a couple of paces when Mother bumped into me.
“Stop, Bub!” She ordered in her loudest hrronk. “Don’t run! Stop! Stay behind me.”
Mother turned to face the charging animal. He had a flat nose and little pointy ears. His tail was long and skinny as could be. It kind of spun around behind him as he bounded through the snow. His long legs seemed to gobble up the ground as he raced toward us.
Then I saw his eyes. They were brown, but the way he stared at me made them seem almost black. They made my heart pound in my ears.
He was after me!
I wanted to run so bad I could hardly stand it. It was all I could do to stay there, behind Mother, like she told me.
I never felt so scared.
Chapter 3
The mountain lion raced closer and closer. His sharp teeth glistened against the black edges of his mouth. Any second I expected him to leap and . . .
At the last moment he stopped. Snow piled up in front of his paws as he slid to a halt. Arching his back, he turned sideways and hissed.
Mother lowered her head and lunged. She didn’t really charge, though. She took one mighty lunge, then stopped. The mountain lion dodged to the side.
“I’m hungry,” he snarled. “That little moose looks just the right size.”
I started to run.
“Stop!” Mother ordered. “Stay behind me.”
The mountain lion circled us. Back arched and each step quiet and soft, he moved closer and closer.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Just get out of the way so I can get at the kid. I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
Mother snorted at him. He took another step. Suddenly she reared up on her hind legs. When she came down, her front hooves swung out and pounded at him. He dodged out of the way. Her hooves almost shook the ground when they hit. Roscoe hissed and raised a paw. Circling again, he flipped his tail and started back toward us.
Bub, Snow, and the Burly Bear Scare Page 1