by Erin Hunter
With a sigh, he stretched out next to Ujurak and pressed his fur against the cub’s, sharing his warmth. Ujurak murmured happily in his sleep and wriggled closer.
Toklo looked up at the star, glinting through the trees. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “But it’s only until he can take care of himself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kallik
Kallik half opened her eyes. She was pressed up against Nanuk, the older bear’s fur brushing against her nose. It wasn’t the same as being out on the ice, but it was nice not to be running away from things all the time, and at least her paws weren’t so sore and battered. She just wished the no-claws would give them some food.
“Kallik,” Nanuk murmured, nudging her. “Kallik, wake up. It’s time to go.”
Kallik blinked and pawed at her eyes. She could hear the pawsteps of the no-claws coming closer. She opened her eyes fully and sat up. There were more no-claws outside the cage than she’d ever seen before, and they carried sticks and webs and other strange things in their paws.
“Don’t be scared,” Nanuk whispered. “The no-claws are going to put us to sleep, but not forever. It’s like what they did to get you here. You’ll be asleep just while they take us to the place where the ice comes first.”
“We’re going back to the ice?” Kallik gasped, jumping to her paws.
Nanuk nodded. “They’ll leave us close to the edge of the bay, far from here. When the ice returns, we’ll be waiting.”
Kallik tried to be brave, but as the no-claws approached, she pushed her nose into Nanuk’s fur. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. “What if we never wake up? Or what if they take us so far away that I’ll never be able to find Taqqiq?” She looked up at Nanuk. “Do you think he’ll be there, too?”
“I’m sure he will be,” Nanuk said. She touched her nose to the top of Kallik’s head, and Kallik curled up in the curve of her side. “Don’t be scared. Just think about the ice. Think about eating seals, and running across shining white snow, and playing with your brother where the stars shine all night long.”
Kallik held her breath, waiting to feel the sharp scratch in her side. It hurt, but not as much as last time. As she slipped into sleep, she thought of Taqqiq. Would he be there when she woke up, waiting for the ice to return, too?
Kallik opened her eyes with a start. A cold wind was rushing through her fur. She was curled up on Nanuk’s belly, surrounded by a strong web. Something was not right; it was too windy, and there was a strange swaying sensation, a bit like the waves on the sea. Something was thudding and rumbling above her, making the web tremble. She looked up and saw the belly of an enormous metal bird above her, its wings whirring in a circle and letting out a high-pitched roaring sound, unlike any bird she’d ever seen before.
She peeked over Nanuk’s side and her heart nearly stopped. The ground was skylengths and skylengths below her! She was flying in the air!
Kallik let out a panicked shriek and scrambled over the web, clawing at the thick tendrils. Sleet flew in her face, stinging her eyes.
“Shh, shhhh,” Nanuk’s voice said. One of her paws encircled Kallik and drew her back onto Nanuk’s belly. “Keep still,” she said. “The bird is carrying us. It’ll be all right.”
“But we’re flying!” Kallik whimpered. “Bears don’t fly! It’s so cold and we’re so high and how is this happening?”
“Shhhh,” Nanuk said. “Keep still and breathe in. Can you smell that?”
Kallik lay quiet and let the air rush into her nose. “It smells like ice,” she said. “It smells like home.”
“That’s right,” Nanuk said. “We’re going home. Everything will be all right, little one.”
Kallik buried her head in Nanuk’s fur, trying not to think about how far above the ground they were. The wind was getting stronger, making the web sway back and forth. The air was thick with the scent of an approaching storm, and freezing rain blew through the holes in the web, coating their fur with icy crystals.
“When we get there,” Kallik whispered, “can I stay with you?”
Nanuk rested one paw on Kallik’s flank, holding her still. “Yes, you can.”
Somehow Kallik slipped into a doze. She was jolted awake again when the web lurched, nearly sending her sliding off Nanuk’s belly. The wind had dropped, and they were surrounded by something thick and white and fluffy. They’d been eaten by a cloud!
“It’s only fog,” Nanuk said. “Just like you get on the ice.”
Kallik peered over Nanuk’s flank. She couldn’t see the ground anymore. Just billowing fog, hanging in the air, muffling the sound of the metal bird above them. From the sound of it, the metal bird didn’t like flying in the fog. It sounded distressed, its wings whining and clattering. Kallik looked up. Her fur was tingling. Something bad was happening.
As Kallik stared up through the cloud, the spinning wings began to tilt and sputter. Then they stopped completely, and the bird plunged straight down, howling louder than the wind.
Kallik could see the bare brown ground now, getting closer very quickly. Not even birds landed this fast! She shrieked and buried her head in Nanuk’s fur as the ground rushed up toward them. Nanuk’s paws clutched her closer, and she could hear the older bear’s heart pounding beneath her ribs.
“What’s happening?” Kallik shouted.
Nanuk didn’t answer. All at once there was a sound like thunder and the sky flashed orange as the bird burst into flames, the heat scorching Kallik’s fur. They slammed into the ground and everything went black.
When Kallik awoke, she was soaking wet, as if she’d been lying in the rain for a while. She blinked, feeling a heavy weight against her side, and for a moment the brush of the cold air and the warmth at her back made her think she was back in her BirthDen with Nisa and Taqqiq. Then she smelled the stench of burning metal, and she remembered where she was.
“Nanuk!” she cried, squirming free. “Nanuk, are you all right?” She tore at the web around them, shoving the tendrils aside as she clambered up to Nanuk’s face. The older bear’s eyes were closed, and she felt cold beneath her fur.
“Nanuk,” Kallik whimpered. “Wake up. It’s me, Kallik.”
The other bear stirred. She turned her head and coughed, and a bright red spatter of blood hit the dirt beside her.
“Oh, Nanuk, you’re hurt!” Kallik cried. “What should I do?”
Nanuk opened her eyes and looked at Kallik. “Find your brother,” she said hoarsely. Another fit of coughing wracked her body and more blood splattered onto the muddy ground.
“But I want to stay with you. I thought we were going to look for him together.”
“I can’t come with you,” Nanuk croaked. “You must be strong. You are strong, stronger than you know. You’ll be all right.”
“But what about you?”
“It is time for me to join the ice spirits,” Nanuk whispered, laying her head back with a sigh. “You will have to go without me. Go to the place where the ice never melts and the bear spirits dance in many colors.”
Kallik gasped. “Is that place real? I thought…perhaps it was just a story.”
“It is real,” Nanuk murmured, her eyes closing. “I know it is.” Her voice faded, whisked away by the wind that had begun to howl around them.
“Wait!” Kallik cried. “How do you know? Please tell me more, please, Nanuk, please don’t die!” She shook Nanuk with her paws, trying to push the older bear up. But Nanuk was heavy and cold, and her sides were still.
Kallik pressed her nose into Nanuk’s fur. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
She backed away, untangling herself from the web. The air was thick with smoke from the wreck of the metal bird. It crackled and popped like a death stick, and flames were shooting out of it into the sky. Although it was dark, Kallik couldn’t see the stars through the stinging smoke and sparks.
She started to run, not caring which direction she was going as long as she got
away from the burning bird. She could feel the mud squishing under her paws and the wind blowing sleet in her face. As she reached the top of a long slope, she turned to look back at the flaming wreckage of the bird and the still white shape of Nanuk lying not far from it.
“Good-bye, Nanuk,” she murmured. “I’ll go to the place of Endless Ice, just like you said. And maybe, if that’s where the spirits dance, I’ll find you there as well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lusa
Lusa screamed so loud she startled the brown bear, making him lift his weight off her for a moment—but a moment was all she needed. Wrenching herself free, she scrabbled under the prickly bush, feeling the thorns tug and tear at her fur. She slid out the other side and raced to the nearest tree, scrambling up it so fast the branches and leaves were just a blur around her. She remembered King saying that grizzlies couldn’t climb trees like black bears could, and she thanked the tree spirits that he’d taught her to climb so well.
“Come down here!” the brown bear roared. He paced around the bottom of the tree, huffing with fury. Lusa clutched the trunk and closed her eyes, praying to all the bear spirits in the forest that he would go away.
“I’m going to tear you apart, puny cub,” the grizzly snarled. “You’ll be sorry you ever came into this territory. I’ll show you what a real bear can do. I’ll rip your fur off and dig out your heart with my claws.”
Lusa wished she could close her ears, too. She was trembling so hard the whole tree seemed to be shaking. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Maybe he’s hungry, like Oka was, a voice whispered in her mind. Well, he can’t eat me! she retorted.
Darkness fell while Lusa was trapped up in the leaves, and still the grizzly paced below her, snarling. Deep shadows crawled across the forest, with only patches of moonlight breaking through the tree cover here and there. It was nearly moonhigh when the grizzly stood on his hind legs and roared, “Stay away from my territory!” one more time, then dropped down and stalked away.
Lusa was too scared to climb down the tree. The dark forest felt cold and unfriendly, and King hadn’t told her what to do after she’d climbed a tree to escape another bear. She buried her face in the bark and stayed there for the rest of the night, shivering and too frightened to sleep.
In the morning light she was able to scan the forest floor below her. There was no sign of the grizzly, and she couldn’t find his scent in the air, either. She would never forget the earthy smell of his fur. She crept carefully down the tree and ran in the opposite direction from where he’d gone. It meant going out of her way for a while, but she could find another path over the mountain—anything would be safer than staying in that bear’s territory!
As she raced through the trees, she passed another one with long scratches on the bark. Now she remembered what King had told her: Stay away from a grizzly’s territory. You’ll know where they are from clawmarks on the trees. She’d been stupid to forget—and lucky to escape with her fur in one piece.
She decided it would be safer to go back to traveling at night. She hid in another tree, far from the grizzly’s territory, for the rest of the day, and climbed down when the sun sank below the mountains. It was harder to find food in the darkness, and hunger gnawed at her belly, but she felt safer among the shadows, so she spent the days hiding in trees for a whole moon. She was steadily climbing higher and higher up the mountain, where the clouds seemed closer to the ground and sometimes it rained for days on end.
At last Lusa reached the top of the mountain, scrambling over a pile of large boulders to emerge onto a wide flat space where there was no more up—only ground sloping down in every direction. She took shelter in a cave just below the peak, looking down at the lights of the flat-face homes. They looked like a sky full of stars spread on the ground. The world was so big…so much bigger than she’d imagined. Why hadn’t Oka warned her about that?
She missed Ashia’s gentle warmth, Stella’s funny stories, even King’s grouchiness. She missed wrestling with Yogi and racing around the Bear Bowl for treats. She wondered if they ever looked up at the Bear Watcher at the same time as she did. She wondered if they ever thought of her. She would never know, because she’d never see them again. Resting her head on her paws, Lusa felt cold and sad and hollow while the moon floated across the sky far above her.
The next morning, she emerged from the cave and set out in daylight. She couldn’t feel sad forever. She had made a promise to Oka, and she was going to keep it. There was no way she could go back to the Bear Bowl, so she may as well keep going. She was heading down the other side of the mountain now, far from the grizzly’s territory, so she decided not to stay in the cave all day and wait for night to fall again. The daylight would help her watch out for bark scratches…there could easily be other brown bears wandering on this side.
She scrambled over a ridge of boulders and paused, her heart thumping. Far below her, she could see three small lakes laid out next to one another, just as Oka had said. She must be going the right way!
A weasel darted across her path, and in her excitement, Lusa sprang to her paws and chased it. It moved too quickly for her to catch, but racing through the grass with the wind in her fur helped to lift her spirits again.
Lusa was tired, hungry, and pawsore by the time she reached the first lake, but the smooth, glittering surface sparkled like starlight in a bowl and she’d been able to see it through the trees for a long time, calling to her. She plunged into the water with a happy yelp. Now this was a real lake—not like the one she’d found in the flat-face enclosure. She wallowed in the water, letting it soak through her fur, soothing her scratches. Tiny silver fish darted between her paws, and she chased after them playfully, woofing with joy.
A skinny long-legged animal was watching her from the bank. Its fur was shaggy and brown and a set of thick antlers sprouted from its head. Lusa thought it might be a moose, from the descriptions she’d heard from Stella and King. It was nice to see another animal that wasn’t trying to eat her.
“Hello!” she called. “Come on in, it’s lovely!”
The moose tilted its head, looking down its nose at her. Then it turned and ambled away.
Lusa dunked herself in the water again. When she reached the point where it was too deep for her paws to reach the bottom, she tried waving them in the water and discovered that she could swim. She wished Yogi were there to see. Playing with him was more fun than playing on her own. But she was going the way Oka had described, which meant she was getting closer to Toklo. And when she found him, she wouldn’t be lonely anymore. She wondered if he liked swimming, too. Perhaps she could teach him.
Lusa stayed by the lakes for five sunrises, splashing in the water and feasting on berries she found growing close to the shore. It was a relief to stop traveling for a while, although she knew she couldn’t rest for long. If Toklo had been moving ever since Oka abandoned him, he could still be a long way away.
On the far side of the third lake, Lusa reached the dead forest that Oka had told her about. It was the scariest place she’d been since the firebeast path. The trees were nothing but black, hollow shells, and there were no leaves or berries on any of them. Her paws crunched softly on the dead twigs and ashes as she walked into it.
The strangest part was the silence. Lusa couldn’t hear any birds or even the scrabbling of tiny animals in the dirt. There was nothing but the sound of her paws and the occasional hiss of the wind or a tree branch creaking. She shuddered, wondering what had happened to the bear spirits. It felt as if perhaps they were still here, clinging to the place where they had died for a second time. But not in a friendly way; instead, the brittle black trunks seemed to be watching her, waiting for her to get lost and stay there forever.
She didn’t dare sleep in the dead forest. There were no bushes to shelter her, and the branches rattled and clacked noisily when the wind shook the dead trees. Lusa kept walking all night and far into the next day. She came to the dry riverbed, with the
dead forest stretching around it on either side. Oka had been here. But would Toklo be anywhere nearby?
Lusa stepped into the riverbed and began to follow it. Her paws were sore and black with soot, but she kept going as night fell, determined to get out of that eerie place.
Halfway through the next day, as she was stumbling along on heavy, numb paws, she spotted green leaves growing on one of the trees. She pricked up her ears and trotted faster, searching for more signs of life. Sure enough, bits of green were peeking out of the bark on the next tree down, and the next, and ahead of her she spotted a tree with vines wound all the way around it. It felt as if the forest were waking up around her. As soon as she saw bushes covered in leaves, she scrambled up the riverbank to search for berries. But there didn’t seem to be any on these bushes, as if they’d been eaten off already. She searched the trees for any scratch marks indicating this was another bear’s territory, but she couldn’t find any.
By nightfall Lusa was back in a living forest, with the whispers of the bear spirits once again murmuring in the breeze. She found a hollow below some tree roots and collapsed into it, too tired even to climb the tree. A group of whorls in the bark beside her looked a bit like Stella, and she pressed her paw to the face, whispering, “Good night, Stella.” She hoped that most animals wouldn’t come this close to the dead forest, and maybe that would keep her safe.
Lusa curled into a ball, feeling loneliness wash over her again. She had never thought it would take this long to find Toklo. Perhaps she would never find him. She remembered the vast landscape she could see from the top of the mountain, stretching all the way to the sky. The wild was just too big. Why did Lusa ever think she would be able to find the lost cub? She would have to learn to survive alone.