The Quest Begins

by Erin Hunter

  Although she was afraid, the Bear Watcher was looking down on her. She was not alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Toklo

  Toklo stopped to rest his paws, exhausted and panting. All the snow near the river had melted, and the sun beat down through his fur. Sometimes it was so strong, he had to find shelter under shady, low-hanging trees during the hottest part of the day.

  Stepping into the river also helped cool him down, letting the water wash over his paws as he walked. Some days the river wound slowly through stands of tall trees, and then he would find it rushing wildly through a gorge with steep slopes of rock and sand rising up on either side. He had decided to follow the river to the far end of the valley, circling the mountain where he’d been chased off by the last bear. Toklo couldn’t shake the feeling that Tobi’s spirit was in the river, traveling alongside him. Tobi might be lonely if he took a different route. That would be just like his little brother, too feeble to enjoy his own company. Besides, rivers were shared territories—Toklo figured he couldn’t get in too much trouble with other bears as long as he stayed near this one.

  The river led into another valley, enclosed by steep snowy mountains. In the distance, Toklo could still see the bear snout mountain, higher than the other peaks, stretching up to sniff the clouds. The smell of roots and berries was stronger in this valley, and there were more bushes and wide stretches of grass instead of forest trees. Somewhere ahead of him there were unfamiliar smells and the sound of chattering—like birds, but lower pitched. Toklo climbed up to a bank of rocks and saw a BlackPath ahead of him, crossing over the river.

  Down by the water, almost underneath the BlackPath, was a gathering of strange animals that Toklo had never seen before. They looked a bit like bears, standing on skinny hind legs and waving their paws around, but they were much smaller. Their pelts were not shaggy and black or brown, but smooth and multicolored—some of them were even the color of berries or flowers or leaves. Their muzzles were pale and smooth and strangely flat, and patches of fur grew on top of their heads.

  Some of them were seated on things that looked like four-legged tree stumps, in front of flat wooden surfaces, also raised up on wooden legs. Many of the interesting smells were coming from the surfaces, where the creatures had spread out stacks of what must be food, because they were lifting it to their mouths with their paws and eating it. Toklo’s mouth watered. He wondered if he could get some of the food away from them. He studied the creatures more closely. They looked small and soft, which meant they should be easy to fight—but so did skunks! He knew not to pick a fight with the little black-and-white animals because once he had, and the terrible scent had clung to his pelt for ages, making his eyes water and hiding the taste of anything he’d tried to eat.

  Besides, these new creatures were very loud and there were a lot of them. He couldn’t be sure what sort of hidden claws or fangs they might have. Even worse, they were being protected by a large firebeast. It was hunkered down on a patch of gravel by the BlackPath, staring at the creatures with its shiny round eyes. Its sides gleamed like the sky in the evening. Unusually, it wasn’t growling or giving out belches of sour smoke. Toklo froze, hoping it hadn’t caught his scent. It didn’t move and after a long, long moment, Toklo figured that it was just sitting there.

  That didn’t mean he wanted to attract its attention. He climbed farther up the valley, staying away from the BlackPath. There weren’t many firebeasts traveling along it, although he saw more of the smooth-pelted creatures playing along its edge, always with a firebeast crouched beside them.

  That night, Toklo found a tree with large roots and dug a den under them, taking the time to make it sturdy and densely packed. This was made easier by the soft, moist earth in the valley, which he could sink his claws into as if it were water. He drifted off to sleep, wondering if he could make this place his territory. There was plenty of food, he hadn’t seen any other bears, and the breeze was warm and gentle, stroking his fur like the feel of his mother’s tongue.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Toklo scrambled to his paws, his ears ringing. Outside his den, the thin gray light of dawn was seeping through the trees along with a light mist.

  Then the noises started again—sharp popping sounds so loud they echoed around the valley. When he sniffed the air, all Toklo smelled was the bitter, heavy scent of smoke and metal. Smooth-pelts were shouting from a distance, like their chatter yesterday but harsher and louder. Toklo crouched at the back of his den, pressing himself into the earth and squeezing his eyes shut. The popping noises went on and on, and once he heard dogs barking in the distance. He’d seen a few dogs running through the forest when he was a cub, but his mother had always hurried him and Tobi in the other direction, so he didn’t know much about them, just that they were like wolves with snappier voices.

  Around sunhigh, Toklo crawled to the mouth of his den and clawed some of the blackberries from the bush outside. But he couldn’t bring himself to eat them. There was a tension in the air that made his belly clench, and he felt as if he was in danger without knowing exactly why.

  Night came, and the noises stopped. It took Toklo until moonhigh to fall asleep. He dreamed that he was the lonely star in the sky again, but this time he was being chased by the other animals, who made loud popping sounds and breathed smoke out of their mouths.

  When he woke up the next morning, his heart was still pounding. He couldn’t take another day of those noises, and clearly there was something dangerous about this place that kept other brown bears away. He should have known it was too good to be true. He scrambled out of his den, tasting the early morning air. The hills were silent and the breeze was chilly and damp. He was too scared to search for food; he wanted to get out of here as quickly as he could.

  The sight of the bear snout mountain in the distance made him pause at the edge of the trees. Maybe he should try going that way, climb the mountain, and explore the valley on the other side. He padded down toward the river. The sun was peeking over the horizon, sending glittering shafts of light across the snowy peaks, but Toklo wasn’t comforted by the warmth on his fur. He kept his head down, miserably listening to the growling of his empty stomach.

  A scream shattered the quiet, and Toklo’s head jerked up.

  “Help! No!”

  There were raised smooth-pelts voices as well, harsh and angry-sounding. Toklo crouched lower to the ground. Maybe he could hide until they went away. He crept quietly over the leaves until he found a fat bush with a hollow in the center, which he climbed into.

  But the voices were coming closer, and a moment later Toklo saw a brown bear cub racing toward him. Behind him were four smooth-pelts, some of them red like berries, others in a glowing orange brighter than any flower Toklo had seen. The cub skidded to a stop beside Toklo’s bush and spun around, trapped. Two of the smooth-pelts came closer and jabbed at it with long black sticks.

  “Stop it!” the cub howled.

  One of the smooth-pelts picked up a stone and flung it at the cub. It flew past him and into the bush, smacking Toklo in the shoulder. Toklo let out a yelp of pain.

  Instantly all of the smooth-pelts pointed their sticks at the bush, barking gruffly at one another. Now that they knew he was there, he had no choice but to run. Toklo sprang out of the bush, almost knocking the other cub off his paws.

  “Come on! Run!” he yelled, racing up the slope deeper into the woods. The cub followed. There was a huge bang and the cub squealed. Toklo glanced back and saw smoke bloom from one of the sticks.

  Bang! Bang! The sound of the metal stick rattled the branches around them. Something really bad was happening. Toklo’s paws pounded on rocks and twigs as they swerved around bushes and leaped over fallen logs. Dogs began barking behind them, and Toklo could hear the smooth-pelts shouting as they crashed through the trees.

  There was another pop-bang sound, and the cub beside him let out a howl of pain and tumbled to the ground. Blood spurted from his shoulder.
>
  “Get up!” Toklo cried. He shoved the cub back onto his paws and they ran on, as fast as the wounded cub could manage. Toklo watched his blood splattering the leaves on the ground and listened to the sound of the smooth-pelts not far behind them.

  He tried to think. The trail of blood would lead the dogs right to them, if their own scent wasn’t enough to do that already.

  “Over here!” he bellowed, veering to the right. There was a stream this way, branching off the main river and heading for the base of the mountains where the meadows gave way to pebbly ravines. Toklo perked up his ears, hearing the rush of water ahead of him. Suddenly the trees fell away on either side and they were at the top of a rocky slope, with the stream sparkling at the bottom. They raced down, scrambling over the boulders; Toklo winced as one of his claws was wrenched back by a sharp stone. There was no time to lick the pain away. They had to get across the stream to hide their scent.

  Toklo saw the cub hesitate, so he ran over and shoved him into the shallow water. “Come on!” he growled.

  They headed up the stream through the water. The pebbles rolled under Toklo’s paws, making it hard to run, and the current tugged at his fur, slowing down both him and the cub. Toklo hoped staying in the water would be enough to throw the dogs off the scent trail; if they guessed which direction the bears had gone, it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up.

  He heard the dogs behind them, baying angrily, but the sound was fading. Good, they must have lost the scent. Toklo kept running until the sound faded away, and then scrambled out of the stream, shaking the water from his pelt. They were at the bottom of a ravine with steep rocky sides. The wounded cub was breathing heavily, his head hanging low, and his shoulder was bleeding even more. Toklo knew he couldn’t run another pawstep.

  He looked around until he spotted a dark hole halfway up one side of the ravine. A faint trail of smaller stones led up to it. Toklo nudged the cub onto the path, and kept pushing him with his nose until the cub had stumbled and clawed his way up to a ledge outside the small cave. The hole was just big enough for two bears to lie down comfortably, with a flat, sandy floor.

  The cub staggered inside and dropped to the floor, his sides heaving. Toklo stayed at the entrance, listening. There was no sound of the smooth-pelts or their metal sticks or the dogs. They were safe, for now. Although he wouldn’t have been in danger to start with, if the cub hadn’t run into his bush. Toklo rounded on the wounded bear.

  “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Don’t you know to stay away from smooth-pelts? Couldn’t you smell them coming?”

  The cub buried his nose under his paws and didn’t answer.

  “What’s the matter?” Toklo asked. “Did they hit your tongue with their metal sticks, too?”

  The cub curled up on his side, his eyes tightly shut.

  “Fine,” Toklo muttered, stomping out of the cave. “Yes, I know I nearly lost my fur rescuing you. No problem. You’re welcome.”

  He scrambled up to the top of the cliff, where prickly bushes and yellow dandelions grew between the boulders. Toklo sniffed around for roots, his belly roaring hungrily. The sun still hadn’t reached the middle of the sky yet; if he ate something to keep up his strength, he might be able to make it to the bear snout mountain by nightfall.

  A whiff of rabbit scent drifted past his nose. Toklo paused, tracking it, and then crept across to a tangle of dead branches that might once have been a leafy bush. Just as he got within paw’s reach, a flash of brown fur darted out from underneath, and Toklo pounced.

  Yes! His claws sank into flesh, and he bit down hard, shaking the rabbit until he was sure it was dead. He tore off a mouthful of meat and gulped it down.

  A vision of the skinny cub came to his mind, curled up and bleeding on the cave floor.

  “I don’t owe him anything,” Toklo told himself. “He nearly got me killed.”

  But there was something about him that reminded Toklo of Tobi, weak and exhausted and starving…and this time Toklo had real food he could share.

  With a sigh, he picked up the rabbit with his teeth and stamped back to the edge of the cliff. The warm prey bounced against his paws as he eased himself down the rocky path to the cave.

  “I found some prey,” he announced, dropping the rabbit next to the cub.

  The bear rolled over, turning his back to Toklo, and said nothing.

  “Well, fine,” Toklo growled. “I’ll eat it all myself then.” What was wrong with this cub? At least Tobi could talk.

  Toklo took a large bite out of the rabbit, determined to eat the whole thing. But then he looked up at the shape of the cub’s ribs, sticking through his thin fur, and with a growl, Toklo shoved the rest of the rabbit toward him. “I’ll just leave it there,” he muttered.

  He was too exhausted to go any farther that day. His paws hurt from running across the rocks, and he still felt cold and wet from wading in the stream. He didn’t want to go searching for another shelter, either. This cave was not very large, but it was out of the wind, and it didn’t smell of other bears. Hoping the cub wouldn’t wake up and claw out his eyes, Toklo curled up with his back pressed to the cub’s bony spine. The touch of his fur reminded him of his brother, and a wave of sadness washed over him again as he lay there. Stupid Tobi, Toklo sighed, pushing the thought away. After a long while, he fell asleep.

  It was dark outside when Toklo drifted awake. The heavy bulk of the other cub was no longer pressed against his back. Toklo opened his eyes and rolled over to see where he had gone.

  Crouched on the floor of the cave, staring at Toklo with round dark eyes, was a young smooth-pelt. The brown bear cub was nowhere to be seen.

  Toklo leaped to his paws. “Where is he?” he roared furiously. “What did you do with the cub?”

  The smooth-pelt flinched away, clutching his left shoulder. His light brown skin was stained with blood from a small round wound. The smooth-pelt held out his paw—a tiny, hairless thing with no claws.

  “Peace,” the smooth-pelt said in bear language. “I am your friend.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Kallik

  Purnaq followed the tracks of the white firebeast for a whole day, barely stopping to eat or drink. Kallik’s paws ached but she was determined to keep up, staying far enough back that he didn’t notice her. The full moon was floating high in a cloudless sky by the time Purnaq found a dip in the ground and curled up to sleep. Kallik dragged herself over to a leafless bush and dropped to the dirt. She hoped Purnaq wouldn’t double back and catch her following him. She was too exhausted to run away if he did.

  She awoke at dawn, as silvery pink clouds trailed across the sky. When she scrambled out from behind the bush, she realized with a stab of despair that she couldn’t see Purnaq anymore. The hollow where he’d gone to sleep was empty. Kallik wondered if he had scented her and deliberately moved on early so he could lose her.

  There were no other bears in sight, either, and panic gripped her as she spun around, searching the empty horizon. How would she find the place with food—the place where Taqqiq might be going—if she couldn’t follow another bear? She padded over to the hollow where Purnaq had been sleeping and sniffed around, searching for his scent. She caught a hint of it heading up the hill, away from the sea. The hollow felt warm, as if he hadn’t been gone for long. Maybe she could still catch up.

  She raced up the hill, bracken crackling beneath her paws. At the top she stopped short with a gasp. Stretching out before her was a gathering of no-claw dens like the ones she’d seen before, but many, many more of them. They glowed with eerie yellow lights like tiny suns, and there were puffs of smoke drifting into the air from some of the roofs. It was quiet, but she could see gleaming firebeasts crouched outside several of the dens.

  It was terrifying to think how close she was to the no-claws and their sticks that could hurt from a long way away, but she was transfixed by the smell of food coming from the dens. Hot food, meat…Kallik couldn’t remember the last time
she’d eaten anything but grass. Her head was swimming, and she could barely stay upright on her paws. Even the faintest scent of real food made her belly feel as if it were caving in like a loose snowbank.

  She padded forward, keeping watch for any other bears. As she reached the edge of the no-claw place and stepped onto one of the stone paths, she heard a clatter of loud popping noises. Death sticks!

  Kallik froze, squeezing her eyes shut. Her heart pounded as she waited for the biting pain. “Mother,” she whispered. “Spirits of the ice, please save me.” A moment passed, and then another, and she realized that she was still alive and unhurt. To be certain, she sniffed herself all over, but there was no trace of any blood.

  She looked around but couldn’t see any no-claws. Curious, she backed up a few steps, and the noises went off again, making her jump. But nothing happened to hurt her; as far as she could tell, it was nothing but noise. She wondered why the no-claws would want bangs going off every time they came close to their dens. Perhaps they liked loud noise—maybe that was why they traveled with the roaring firebeasts. Or perhaps they were trying to scare away other animals.

  Well, it’s not going to work on me! she thought. She was too hungry to go back, no matter how loud the noise was.

  She padded along one of the stone paths, the unfamiliar surface scraping her paws. A clatter came from one of the dens, making her jump, and she scrambled over to the side of the path to hide under a bush. She watched as a no-claw emerged from the den and climbed inside the firebeast crouched beside it. With a growl, the firebeast woke up, backed away from the den, turned, and sped off along the stone path.

  Kallik realized that other firebeasts were waking up nearby. She could smell no-claws moving about outside their dens. She could also smell the same wolflike animals she’d seen with the no-claws before, and some of them were barking and howling as if they could smell her, too.