by Erin Hunter
We fixed it, all of it! That’s an amazing achievement. And now we can go home.
Kallik’s thoughts flew back to the Frozen Sea, where she and her brother, Taqqiq, had played as carefree cubs, so long ago. Their mother, Nisa, was gone forever, but Taqqiq was still alive; at least Kallik wouldn’t let herself think otherwise. Hope welled up in her. Maybe Taqqiq has gone back there. Maybe I’ll see him again.
She glanced at Yakone, who was striding tirelessly alongside her. “Did I ever tell you about my brother?” she asked.
Yakone shook his head; Kallik was warmed by the interest in his dark eyes.
“I lost him when my mother died….” she began, launching into the tale of how she and Taqqiq had been separated on the ice, how she had finally found him at Great Bear Lake, where all bears gathered to celebrate the longest day of burn-sky, only to lose him again when he decided not to join Ujurak’s journey.
“He hung out with some pretty unpleasant bears by the lake,” Kallik confided to Yakone. “They used to steal food. Once they even stole a black-bear cub and wanted to keep him so the other black bears would give them their food!”
“That must have been hard for you,” Yakone said. “After all, he was your brother, right?”
“It was very hard,” Kallik admitted. “He had changed so much from the Taqqiq I knew when we were cubs. He seemed to know what his friends were doing was wrong, but he made a lot of enemies, thanks to them. I just hope he found his way back to the Frozen Sea,” she went on, anticipation bubbling up inside her. “I’m going home, Yakone, and I want Taqqiq to be there!”
The trek across the island seemed to take forever. The cold was no problem for Kallik, but she hated the biting wind that flung ice crystals into her face, and the rock that was hard beneath her paws. There was little prey; Toklo managed to catch a hare, but it was thin and scrawny, hardly enough to feed one bear, let alone four. And when they tried to creep up on the gulls or the snow geese, the whole flock would take off before the bears got near enough to spring, flapping around their heads with harsh cries that sounded like mockery to Kallik.
When they reached the range of hills, they spent a whole day trying to find a path that would lead them through. That night they slept huddled in the shelter of an overhanging rock, and they finally scrambled up to the ridge in the gray light of the next day’s dawn.
Kallik shivered, and her heart sank as she gazed out across the view in front of her. Beneath her paws the ground sloped gently away to another expanse of icebound sea, which stretched into the distance, with no more land in sight. That wasn’t the problem; it was the state of the sea that troubled her. Close to shore, the frozen surface was sliced through with dark jagged cracks, splitting the ice into separate floes. Kallik could imagine them tilting beneath her feet, pitching her into the hungry waves.
“Are you okay, Kallik?” Lusa asked, looking up at her.
Kallik swallowed. However hard she tried, she couldn’t forget how her mother had died: the swirling water between two chunks of ice, and the vicious jaws of the orca gaping to drag Nisa down. “I’m fine … it’s just … it looks as if there might be orca down there.”
Lusa pressed comfortingly against her side. “Look how narrow the cracks in the ice are. Even I could jump across those. We probably won’t need to swim.”
“And if we do, we’ll deal with the orca,” Yakone promised.
“You have seen orca before, haven’t you?” Toklo broke in irritably. “They’re not that easy to deal with.”
Without giving Yakone the chance to reply, he headed down the slope; Kallik and the others had to trail after him. Kallik remembered that the last time they had encountered orca, Ujurak had been there to help them, turning into an orca himself to drive the great whales away. He wasn’t here now, and she had probably made Toklo angry by reminding him.
But we can’t examine every word before it comes out of our mouths just in case it upsets Toklo, she argued silently. He’ll have to accept that Ujurak isn’t coming back, just like the rest of us.
When the bears reached the edge of the sea, Kallik was relieved to see that the ice floes were bigger, and the cracks narrower, than she had thought when she’d seen them from the ridge. Lusa was right: It would be easy to leap from one to the next. Her fears began to recede a little, though she still kept a sharp lookout for the telltale fin of an orca cutting through the waves.
Yakone was scanning the water carefully, too. “I was hoping there might be seals, or fish,” he explained to Kallik. “But the sea seems empty.”
Kallik shuddered. “Maybe the orca have taken all the prey.”
“This is getting to be a hungry journey,” Yakone commented.
“They all are,” Lusa grumbled.
For once, Toklo let Kallik take the lead as they reached the shore. She listened for a moment before she set paw on the ice, studying the sounds the broken floes were making, the noise of the waves slapping around them. She chose the chunk of ice that sounded heaviest in the water, the least likely to break up again under the weight of the bears. She gathered her haunches underneath her and jumped as far from the edge of the ice as she could. It tipped and rocked beneath her, but she stayed crouched down, and she was close enough to the center to avoid sliding into the dark green water around the edges.
“Follow me closely,” she called to the others. “Keep away from the edges, and stay low. The ice will move, but you should be okay.”
She noticed that Yakone hung back and waited for Lusa and Toklo to jump first. Kallik guessed Toklo wouldn’t like feeling that the white bear was watching out for him, but he had to accept that Yakone was better suited to this part of the journey. Lusa couldn’t jump as far as Kallik, but her weight was less, so the ice rocked less disturbingly. The little black bear stayed on her belly and wriggled over to join Kallik in the middle.
Toklo took a short run up and leaped so far that he almost flattened Lusa. The floe jerked in the water and waves slapped against the sides, but the bears huddled together and the ice quickly steadied. Finally Yakone jumped on, spreading his weight evenly among his four giant paws and only blinking when the ice lurched to one side.
“This is not going to be easy,” Lusa commented between gritted teeth.
“The ice will be more solid as we get away from the shore,” Yakone assured her. “And you’ve done great so far. Follow me to the next one.” He slid cautiously toward the edge of the floe; Kallik and Toklo shuffled back to balance his weight. There was a jerk as Yakone sprang onto the next chunk of ice, but Lusa headed determinedly after him, grunting with concentration as she jumped over the gap.
“You go next,” Kallik told Toklo, spreading her paws farther apart to steady the bucking ice.
Toklo looked at her. “I’ll watch out for orca, I promise. I can still keep you safe, Kallik.”
Kallik’s heart ached. You have nothing to prove, my friend. Out loud she said, “I know you can, Toklo. I hope the water here is too shallow for whales, but we need to keep watch, especially when Lusa is crossing the gaps.”
Toklo nodded, and for a moment everything felt the same as it had always been: the two larger bears looking out for Lusa and Ujurak, knowing that their strength and size had to keep all four of them safe. Then Yakone called out, “Is everything okay?” and Toklo’s gaze clouded again. He slithered to the edge of the floe and jumped heavily across the gap. One of his hindpaws landed close to the jagged cliff that plunged down to the open waves; he grunted and snatched it back before stumbling toward Yakone and Lusa, who were watching him with wide, startled eyes. Kallik silently begged them not to comment.
“Wait for me!” she barked, trying to sound lighthearted. She let her paws slip over the ice until she felt the floe start to dip under her weight; then she pressed down with her hindpaws and pushed herself over the dark gap that snaked through the smooth white ice. She landed with her paws spread wide to keep her steady, but the other bears were already balancing the floe, and it barel
y moved under her weight. Kallik nodded breathlessly to her companions, then looked past them. Chunks of ice stretched toward the horizon, bobbing gently as the waves moved beneath them. Lusa was right, crossing them wouldn’t be easy, but they didn’t have a choice. And the sea would close up as they left the shore behind and reached the deeper, colder water.
Kallik shook her fur. “Let’s keep going,” she said. “We won’t want to get caught on the broken ice when night comes.”
As the day went on, Kallik began to notice that Lusa was lagging behind. Even though the gaps grew smaller as they came to the deeper water, she seemed to be having problems jumping from one ice floe to the next. Kallik waited on a large, steady floe for the black bear to catch up. She thought she could guess what was wrong. Since the raid on the no-claw dens, Lusa had only had meat to eat, and not much of that.
Out here on the sea, there’s no chance of finding any leaves or berries for her.
When Lusa had caught up, Kallik stayed beside her, crossing with her from one floe to the next, until they reached Toklo and Yakone, who had stopped to wait for them a few bearlengths ahead.
“Everything okay?” Yakone asked.
Lusa nodded. “I’m sorry,” she panted. “I just feel so tired. My paws don’t seem to go where I tell them to.”
“She needs to get to land,” Kallik told the male bears. “Can we go any faster?”
“Oh, sure.” Toklo’s voice was heavily sarcastic. “Go faster, when Lusa can’t keep up as it is. That’s a great idea!”
“I just thought—” Kallik began.
“No, you didn’t think,” Toklo interrupted. “Why can’t you just let me make the decisions, and we would all do a lot better?”
It was hard for Kallik not to lash out at Toklo and rake her claws over his ears. “You have no right to order us around!” she growled.
“Some bear has to, when you have bees in your brain,” Toklo retorted, fury flaring up in his eyes. “Or you can carry on alone, and see how far you get!”
“We’d be just fine, wouldn’t we, Yakone?”
“Stop it, both of you!” Lusa’s voice rose into a wail. “This is all my fault,” she went on miserably. “I’m holding you back.”
“No, you’re not.” Kallik padded over to Lusa and pressed her muzzle against the little bear’s shoulder. “It’s harder for you, that’s all. I just want to do what’s best for you.”
“It’s not best, when you and Toklo talk about splitting up,” Lusa told her in a small voice. “We belong together. You know we do.”
“You’re right.” Kallik felt her anger die. “I’m sorry.”
Toklo gave a grunt of acknowledgment, though he didn’t meet Kallik’s gaze. He gave Lusa an awkward prod with one paw. “Let’s go a bit farther,” he suggested. “Then we’ll find somewhere to spend the night.”
He turned and jumped onto the next ice floe. He had adapted to the way the ice pitched and rocked when he landed, and he slithered quickly to the center with his paws spread out to steady it. Kallik’s irritation rose again at his assumption that he was still taking the lead, but at least he turned and waited for Lusa, checking to make sure she crossed safely before carrying on.
Thankfully, the chunks of ice grew bigger and the gaps narrower until the surface was solid and unbroken beneath their feet, though there was still no sign of land ahead. Darkness fell, with a thick cloud cover that cut off the light of the moon or stars. With nowhere to make a den, the bears huddled together to sleep.
Missing walls of snow or even of earth around her, Kallik slept uneasily. The wind swept across the ice with a thin, whining sound; she began to imagine that she could hear voices in it. Then she thought that she could hear her name. “Kallik! Kallik!”
Her eyes flew open. Toklo, Lusa, and Yakone slept beside her, as still as stones. Kallik caught her breath as she spotted a glimmer of starlight far out over the sea. The voice calling her name seemed to be coming from there. Gradually the light grew closer, though Kallik couldn’t make out what it was. Cautiously sitting up, she prodded Lusa, who was closest, with one paw. “Lusa!” she hissed.
The black bear didn’t move; not even her nose twitched.
Growing fearful, Kallik faced the starry glimmer. It seemed to be moving faster now, and as it drew closer, she could make out its shape. That’s when her fear vanished.
“Ujurak!” she barked joyfully.
The brown bear trotted up to her. Stars were entangled in his fur, and his eyes glowed with the silver light of two small moons.
“Kallik,” he murmured affectionately, coming so close that she could see his breath clouding in the icy air.
Kallik prodded Lusa again, but still she couldn’t rouse the black bear. “Why can’t I wake the others?” she asked.
“They will see me soon,” Ujurak promised. “But tonight I’ve come to visit you.”
Kallik stared at him. “Why me?”
“Because I need to ask you something,” Ujurak told her. “Kallik, please don’t quarrel with the others. It makes your journey harder.”
“I know.” Shame swept over Kallik and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Toklo isn’t the easiest bear to get along with.” There was a spark of amusement in Ujurak’s eyes. “But you have always been the one to calm ruffled fur and keep the bears together. This is your gift, Kallik.”
Kallik nodded, remembering the quarrels she had stopped, the tempers she had cooled, on their long journey to Star Island. It hadn’t always been easy, and sometimes she’d almost had to bite her own tongue off to keep the peace, but there was no point getting angry with the bears that you relied on for companionship, food, and shelter. She just had to think outside the moment, to the days and moons that lay beyond them. “I’ll try harder,” she promised.
Ujurak lifted his muzzle, leaving a trail of sparks hanging in the air. “Good. Because you and Toklo and Lusa must share your destiny—and your journey—for a while longer.”
“I’ll try,” Kallik repeated. “This journey is too important to be risked on a single fight. We’re going home, aren’t we?”
Ujurak didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flared with dazzling brightness. He took a huge leap into the air and soared above Kallik’s head, a streak of silver light heading for the sky.
“Good-bye, Ujurak!” Kallik called, watching him as he rose higher and higher, until he was no more than a point of light among the clouds, and then winked out.
Kallik woke to pale gray light, with a milky line on the horizon where the sun was struggling to rise. Toklo was already awake, standing a couple of bearlengths away and giving himself a vigorous scratch with one hindpaw. Yakone was stirring beside her, though Lusa still slept in a bundle of black fur. Kallik felt a rush of affection for her three companions, warmed by the knowledge that Ujurak wanted her to keep them united and focused.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, springing to her paws. “Ujurak came to me in a dream last night!”
To her dismay, Toklo spun around to face her, his eyes full of pain. “Why would he come to you and not me?” he demanded.
Why wouldn’t he visit me? Kallik took a deep breath, determined to do as Ujurak asked and not quarrel. “He said you would all see him soon,” she explained. “And his message was for all of us.”
“But it was you he spoke to—or so you say,” Toklo retorted.
He turned away, but not before Kallik glimpsed hurt mingling with anger in his eyes. She wished she knew what to say to him. I know he’s grieving … but I couldn’t keep Ujurak’s message to myself, could I?
The sound of raised voices had woken Lusa, who struggled to her paws, glancing from Kallik to Toklo and back again. “Ujurak visited you?” she asked Kallik in astonishment. “What did he say?”
“He warned us about arguing with each other,” Kallik said, deciding not to mention how Ujurak had told her that she was the peacemaker among them. She didn’t want Toklo thinking she had been singled out even more. “He sai
d that our destiny lies together for a while longer.”
“I know that!” Toklo choked out, not looking at her.
“Well, okay, then,” Kallik replied, trying to sound calm. She noticed that Yakone was giving her a bewildered look, as if he didn’t understand why a dead bear was visiting her, or why Toklo should be so angry about it.
“I’ll explain later,” she murmured.
Meanwhile, Toklo was already walking away, not looking to see if the others were following him. His head was down and his shoulders hunched. Kallik sighed. I guess all we can do is follow.
The island they had crossed lay far behind them now, and nothing could be seen in any direction but flat white. Kallik’s belly growled with hunger, but there was no sign of prey or seal holes. Lusa kept up well at the beginning of the day’s journey, as if the news of Ujurak’s visit had encouraged her, but as time went on, she started to fall behind again. Kallik could see how hard it was for her to keep putting one paw in front of another.
We all need food. And Lusa needs to get to land. How long can we go on like this? Kallik wondered, her anxiety rising with every pawstep. We’ll never get home at this rate. We don’t even know where we are.
A harsh squawk from overhead interrupted her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a gull, its white wings flashing silver as it circled their heads. Toklo halted to watch it.
“Please,” Kallik heard him grumbling as she and the others caught up, “don’t come and bother us when we have no hope of catching you.”
The bird went on squawking and swooping around them, then headed off in a different direction, only to circle around and come back to them again.
“I think it wants us to follow it,” Lusa said.
“Bee-brain!” Toklo snorted. “It’s a bird.”
“I know.” Lusa wasn’t daunted by Toklo’s dismissive tone. “But maybe it’s not only a bird. I’ve never seen a bird behave like that.”