Smoke Mountain

by Erin Hunter

  Qopuk stopped licking up the moisture, and Lusa gave the moss back to Ujurak. The old white bear stared up at the tangled branches above his head, outlined against the sharp blue sky. ‘The Longest Day,’ he murmured. ‘Am I almost there?’

  ‘Oh – you were travelling to the lake?’ Lusa guessed. ‘That’s where we just came from.’

  ‘No.’ Qopuk shook his head. ‘I’m on a journey . . . but I thought I would try to go to the gathering. Only I got lost . . .’

  ‘The ceremony was yesterday,’ said Kallik. ‘I’m sorry. You missed it.’

  ‘So what?’ Taqqiq grunted. ‘You didn’t miss anything. Blah, blah, fat old bears muttering about spirits and how much they miss the ice. Blah, bl–’

  Lusa shot Taqqiq a stern glance and the white bear shut up.

  ‘It would have been my last gathering,’ the old bear rasped. ‘I wanted so much . . . to tell them . . . what I learned.’

  ‘Right, I bet that would be fascinating,’ Taqqiq said. ‘Lots of old stories about fishing and how much better everything was when you were a cub. Don’t worry; every other old bear in the world can fill us in.’

  ‘Taqqiq, stop,’ Kallik whispered. ‘He’s one of us.’

  ‘You can tell us,’ Lusa said, lightly pressing the bear’s fur with her nose. ‘We’ll listen.’ She lay down with her paws tucked under her muzzle and her ears swivelled towards Qopuk. More than food, more than rest, this bear wanted an audience. Well, that was something she could give him quite easily.

  ‘Huh! You might be happy to listen to some old fool rambling about the good old days!’ Taqqiq snorted. ‘I’m going to show that oaf Toklo how a real bear hunts!’ He turned and charged into the woods, crashing through any bushes that dared to get in his way. Lusa was sure Toklo would not be so pleased about sharing his hunt with Taqqiq, but at least it meant Qopuk could speak in peace.

  Qopuk blinked at the three bear cubs who were still gathered around him. One black, one brown, one white. Lusa realised how odd they must look together. But Qopuk didn’t seem to care.

  ‘It’s so far,’ the old bear whispered. ‘Too far . . . How could a group of little cubs ever get there alone? No, it’s too dangerous . . . if only I could take you there . . . take us all there . . .’ His voice trailed off. Lusa reached for the moss and dribbled some more water on to his tongue.

  Ujurak’s ears twitched forward. ‘Where?’ he prompted. ‘What’s too far?’

  ‘The Last . . . Great . . . Wilderness,’ Qopuk murmured.

  Lusa shot Kallik a hopeful look. The Last Great Wilderness? She’d never heard of it before, not even from Ujurak. ‘What is that?’ she asked.

  ‘I only know the stories,’ Qopuk admitted. ‘It is a place where the forests are full of prey and the no-claws stay far away. There’s enough space for bears of all kinds, white, brown and black. And there is sea-ice all year round.’ He sighed.

  Ujurak’s eyes shone. ‘That’s where we’re going!’ he barked. ‘That must be it – that’s the place we’ve been looking for!’

  ‘Do you know how to get there?’ Lusa asked Qopuk. She wanted to leap around with excitement, but she made herself stay still so Qopuk would keep talking.

  Kallik had crept close enough to press her nose into the white bear’s fur as well. She leaned gently against him, and Lusa wondered if this was how Kallik had rested against her mother to hear stories about the everlasting sea-ice and the dancing bear spirits.

  ‘I do know how to get there,’ Qopuk croaked, gazing up at the bramble branches as if he wasn’t really seeing them. ‘But it’s very dangerous. Few bears survive the journey over Smoke Mountain.’

  ‘Smoke Mountain?’ Lusa echoed. She looked up and saw that Ujurak’s fur was bristling and his eyes were so wide she could see white circles around them.

  Kallik pressed closer to Qopuk. ‘What a horrible name,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why is it dangerous?’ Lusa pressed. ‘Qopuk, what’s there? What’s on Smoke Mountain?’

  Qopuk’s eyelids were drooping. ‘Smoke Mountain,’ he murmured. ‘The fire giant . . .’ His head lolled to one side and his paws went limp. His eyes closed.

  ‘Qopuk!’ Lusa cried. ‘Wait, tell us more!’

  ‘Shhh,’ Kallik told her. ‘Lusa, he’s sleeping. Let him rest.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lusa said softly. ‘Sorry, Qopuk.’ She took a step backwards, trying to move quietly.

  ‘He’s so tired,’ Ujurak said. They watched the bear’s grimy fur rise and fall as he breathed.

  ‘Can we stay here tonight?’ Kallik asked Ujurak. ‘To be with him?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lusa said. ‘And tomorrow, after he’s rested, he can come with us! He can show us the way to the Last Great Wilderness!’

  Ujurak shifted his weight, twigs crackling under his paws. ‘I think it’s a good idea to stay,’ he said. ‘Maybe if Toklo catches something we can share it with him.’

  ‘Or Taqqiq,’ Kallik reminded him.

  ‘I’ll get him some more water,’ Lusa said. She closed her jaws around the damp moss and backed out of the brambles. As she trotted down to the lake, the leaves of the trees around her rustled and whispered. She thought the bear spirits in them approved of her taking care of Qopuk, even though he wasn’t a black bear.

  She dipped the moss in the clear, cold water, soaking it through. The sun was sliding down towards the horizon, and the shadows were getting longer across the rippling lake. Lusa twitched her ears, listening for sounds of prey. She could hear thumping paws and branches cracking and some bear muttering nearby, which sounded like Taqqiq trying to hunt.

  A twig snapped behind her, and she turned to see Toklo emerging from the trees with a hare in his jaws.

  ‘Good job!’ Lusa exclaimed. ‘I knew you would catch something!’

  Toklo rolled his eyes. ‘No thanks to certain noisy bears,’ he mumbled around the newkill.

  ‘We’re going to stay here tonight,’ Lusa went on, lifting the soaked moss out of the lake. ‘Qopuk knows the way to the Last Great Wilderness, and Ujurak says that’s where we’re going. Isn’t that great? He can take us there!’

  ‘Terrific,’ Toklo said. ‘Just what we need, another bear to slow us down.’

  ‘But he’ll be useful,’ Lusa pointed out. ‘And it’s his dream to get there – we can help him.’ She was cross that Toklo was being so selfish. Qopuk deserved to reach the end of his journey as much as they did.

  She picked up the wet moss and trotted back into the brambles with Toklo close behind her. Kallik was curled up beside Qopuk, her fur lifting and falling in rhythm with his. Her eyes were closed.

  ‘Shhh,’ Ujurak warned, nodding at the two white bears. Lusa set the moss down next to Qopuk’s nose.

  Toklo scratched a pile of leaves together under a tree a few bearlengths from Qopuk and settled down to eat. ‘We’ll save some for them,’ he said.

  Lusa had just taken a mouthful when Taqqiq came crashing back through the trees. ‘There’s nothing to eat in these woods!’ he grumbled. ‘Forests are a stupid place to hunt.’

  Lusa couldn’t help but think, So why were you trying to steal forest territory from the black bears at the lake? Dumb fur lump.

  ‘Sure, Taqqiq,’ Toklo said. ‘Nothing but squirrels, birds, foxes . . . hares.’ He nudged the newkill in front of them.

  Taqqiq glared at the brown bear as if he were thinking about eating him. He tore off a strip of meat and glanced around as he chewed. His gaze fell on Kallik sleeping next to the old white bear.

  ‘What is she doing?’ he snarled. ‘That’s not our mother! Is she going to act like a seal-brained cub with every big lump of fur that blinks at her?’

  ‘Leave her be,’ Ujurak growled, sounding fiercer than Lusa had heard before. His eyes looked like little black berries, glaring at Taqqiq.

  Taqqiq twitched his ears, but said nothing. He bent his head, holding the end of his piece of meat between his front paws, and concentrated on chewing.

  Lusa finished ea
ting and climbed up the tree. She tucked herself into a comfortable niche where two branches met the trunk and rested her head on her aching paws. Down below she could see Toklo and Ujurak curling up to sleep. Taqqiq clawed at the ground, circling and grumbling, and finally settled down with an enormous sigh.

  Lusa wondered if Kallik was dreaming of her mother. Qopuk’s warm bulk probably reminded her of sleeping next to Nisa, curled up in the snow. She must have felt so alone after Nisa died. At least Lusa knew where her mother was – safe in the Bear Bowl, well fed and surrounded by friends. She missed her so much that it made her head hurt sometimes, but if Ashia was dead, she would feel lonely in a totally different way.

  Lusa drifted off to sleep and dreamed of bear spirits whispering in the wind through her fur. One of them spoke with the voice of her mother: Sleep, little one. I am here.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  Lusa

  The murmur of voices woke Lusa the next morning. She peered down through the branches and saw that Qopuk was awake and talking. Kallik and Ujurak were crouched beside him. Toklo’s pile of leaves was empty; she guessed he was out hunting. Taqqiq was still asleep below her. Lusa blinked at the pale pink sky overhead. It had been another short night; it felt far too early to be morning. When would the nights finally get longer again? Right now, she thought she’d gladly give up some of the warmth of the day in exchange for more sleep.

  She clambered down the tree and edged around Taqqiq, who was snoring among the tree roots.

  ‘Lusa!’ Kallik called as she trotted towards them. ‘Qopuk is telling us how to get to the Last Great Wilderness.’

  The old white bear had hauled himself on to his haunches so that he was sitting up. His eyes were brighter than they had been the day before. The remains of the hare were scattered at his paws, and the food seemed to have given him extra strength. Lusa wriggled in beside Kallik and looked up at him. Qopuk nodded to her, touching the moss she had brought him.

  ‘You were saying something about the Big River,’ Ujurak prompted.

  ‘Yes,’ Qopuk said. ‘That’s the first danger you have to cross to reach the Last Great Wilderness. I’ve seen it, but I’ve never crossed it myself. It’s a skylength wide, and the currents are very strong. Too strong to swim, even for you, little star,’ he said to Kallik. The white cub looked startled. Lusa wondered why. Ashia used to call her ‘little blackberry,’ but she liked the name ‘little star’ too. It suited Kallik.

  ‘Then how do we get across?’ Ujurak asked.

  ‘There is one spot where it’s possible,’ Qopuk said. ‘The river is shallower and calmer if you swim it from the no-claw denning place . . . but be careful, because it is still very wide and the currents are swift. If you make it across, from there you must follow the Pathway Star beyond Smoke Mountain.’ He lifted his nose to the far horizon.

  ‘You mentioned the mountain last night,’ Lusa said. ‘You said it was dangerous.’

  ‘It is.’ Qopuk’s eyes closed and he took a long, rattling breath. Finally he opened them once more and looked around in surprise, as if he couldn’t remember where he was. His huge chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

  ‘Smoke Mountain,’ Lusa reminded him. ‘What’s there? Why is it so dangerous?’

  ‘I only know what I’ve been told,’ Qopuk rasped. His dirty white fur rippled as he stretched out one front paw and flexed his claws. ‘I met a bear once who said he had been to the Wilderness and back again. No one believed him . . . they said if the place was so wonderful, why would he come back?’ He looked down, drawing a furrow in the earth. ‘But I believed him. His stories were so real, with stranger things than he could have made up. He told me all about Smoke Mountain – about the rocks that burn, and the fire underneath the ground. He said the sky was full of ash and smoke, stinging your eyes and leaving black powder on your fur and all over the ground, too sticky to be washed away by the rain. The dark rocks stretch for skylengths, hard and jagged underpaw. The air is choking, and it drives bears off their path. And something is lying in wait there . . . something evil.’

  Kallik, Lusa and Ujurak all stared at him. The frightening picture in Lusa’s mind was so different from the peaceful trees around them that she could hardly believe it existed. Morning dew sparkled on the grass, and she could hear the burble of a small stream under Taqqiq’s snoring. A place as terrible as Smoke Mountain seemed very far away.

  ‘What is it?’ Kallik squeaked. ‘The evil?’

  ‘There is a legend,’ Qopuk said softly, ‘that speaks of a giant no-claw as tall as seven trees.’

  Lusa and Kallik gasped.

  ‘He lived on Smoke Mountain many moons ago,’ Qopuk went on. ‘Every step he took was a skylength wide. The trees themselves quaked in fear when he walked by. And he was hungry – always hungry.

  ‘Then a snow-sky came that was longer than ever before, and fiercely cold. The no-claw had nothing to eat for many days. When the snow-sky finally passed, his hunger was so ferocious that he went into the mountains and killed every bear he could find.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Lusa cried.

  ‘He killed thirty bears,’ Qopuk said darkly. Lusa looked down at her paws. She knew she had four of those. Was thirty a lot more? ‘And then he burned them the way no-claws burn their food. He hung them over a fire near a huge rock – the bear I met said he had seen the very rock, which he called Bear Rock. And then the giant no-claw ate all thirty bears.’

  ‘I didn’t think no-claws ate bears,’ Kallik whispered.

  ‘Well, this one did,’ Qopuk said. ‘And according to the legend, his spirit still haunts the mountain. They say that when the smoke thickens, the no-claw is lighting his fire and searching for bears to eat.’

  Lusa buried her muzzle in Kallik’s fur, trying to block out the screams of bears that rang in her head.

  ‘That’s really horrible.’ Ujurak wrinkled his nose. ‘There must be another way to the Last Great Wilderness.’

  ‘I have heard of another path,’ Qopuk said, lowering his head. All three cubs leaned closer. ‘It is much longer. And it has its dangers too.’

  ‘Tell us,’ Ujurak prompted, touching his snout to the old bear’s.

  ‘Cross the Big River and then follow it all the way to the Ice Sea,’ Qopuk rasped. ‘If you make it through the sinking sands and the waves that try to sweep you out into the ocean . . . if you can survive there . . . it is possible to reach the Last Great Wilderness along the shore.’ He took one long, shuddering breath and lay down. Branches and leaves crunched under his massive weight as he settled to the ground and rested his head on his paws. His eyes slowly closed.

  Lusa padded closer to him and pressed her fur to his. ‘I am so glad you’ll be with us on our journey,’ she whispered to him. ‘You can show us the way – and we can help you find the end of your path.’

  Qopuk didn’t answer. His chest rose and fell quietly as he breathed. Lusa pawed some soft leaves around him and stepped back. Ujurak was watching her with large dark eyes.

  ‘We should let him sleep as long as he wants,’ Lusa decided, ‘so when he wakes up he’ll be strong enough to travel.’

  Kallik blinked, stretching forward to sniff the old bear. ‘I hope he has some nice stories to tell us as well.’

  Lusa picked up the moss and trotted down to the water to soak it again. After a few moments, she realised that Ujurak was right behind her. She lifted her head and looked around.

  ‘Lusa,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. Qopuk isn’t coming with us.’

  ‘Yes, he is!’ Lusa mumbled around the wad of moss. ‘He knows the way – and how to avoid Smoke Mountain! We need him!’

  ‘He would come with us if he could,’ said Ujurak. ‘But this is our journey to make. Not his.’

  Lusa tipped her head to one side and stared at him. ‘You mean you won’t let him come?’

  ‘It’s not like that.’ The breeze picked up, and a pair of bright green leaves fluttered down between them. Ujurak lowered his head and touched one of them wit
h his nose. He looked sad. ‘He’s so old and tired, Lusa. It’s time for his spirit to go on without him.’

  Lusa’s claws sank into the ground.

  ‘No!’ she growled. ‘You’re wrong!’ She dropped the moss and raced back to Qopuk. The old white bear was still breathing – but his breaths were slower and shallower now, his flank barely lifting. Lusa felt as if she had swallowed a stone. Qopuk was tired beyond sleep. Ujurak was right: he would never leave this place.

  Kallik was leaning against the bear’s shoulder, touching one of his paws with hers. Her fur looked bright white against Qopuk’s greyer, flattened pelt, and her belly was plump and sleek beside his hollow ribs.

  ‘Qopuk?’ Lusa whispered.

  The old white bear opened one eye. It was dull and glazed. ‘Please stay with me, little ones,’ he said in a voice that creaked like tree branches in the wind. ‘It won’t be long now.’

  ‘Can’t you stay?’ Lusa begged. ‘Stay with us. We need you. We can go to the Last Great Wilderness together. Please.’

  Qopuk let out a sigh that ruffled the tufts of grass in front of his muzzle. ‘You must be careful,’ he warned. ‘Smoke Mountain is more dangerous than you will ever understand. But the Last Great Wilderness is real . . . and you will get there without me, brave little bears.’ His growl trailed off into silence and his eyelid slid shut.

  Lusa huddled beside Kallik and pressed against the old bear’s shoulder. ‘Qopuk,’ she whispered.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Ujurak said from behind her.

  Just like that? Lusa looked up at the solid mass of white fur. It was still warm, and the hairs still wafted in the breeze. But something was different. Where there had been a feeling of tiredness and worry, there was just emptiness. It was something more than silence, more than stillness. Qopuk’s spirit had gone.