by Erin Hunter
When Yakone had joined them, the bears set off again, trying to follow the line of the gully and skirt around the area where the no-claws were tearing up the earth. But they found themselves in a landscape of deep crevasses, where they had to keep turning away from the path they wanted. Sometimes they could jump across the cracks; sometimes they had to climb laboriously down one side of a ravine, only to toil up the other. Kallik’s paws felt as heavy as rocks, she was so tired.
“This is hopeless,” Yakone said at last, as they hauled themselves out of yet another gorge. “We’re getting nowhere.”
Toklo grunted agreement. “I’m not sure where we are anymore, but we must be skylengths away from where the she-bear told us to go. We don’t even have the sun to guide us.”
“What are we going to do?” Nanulak whimpered. “I’m so tired and hungry!”
Ujurak would know, Kallik thought. Are you watching us, Ujurak? Please tell us which way will get us off the island!
As the thought went through her mind, she spotted movement in the sky. A gull was hovering over a tumbled heap of boulders outlined against the horizon.
“Look!” Kallik exclaimed, pointing with her muzzle.
By the time the others had turned to follow her gaze, the gull had vanished.
“What?” Toklo asked, an edge of irritation in his tone.
“I saw a gull,” Kallik replied. At the others’ blank looks she added, “I think it was Ujurak, showing us which way to go.”
“That way?” Yakone shrugged. “One way is as good as another, I suppose.”
This time Kallik took the lead, heading in the direction where the gull had appeared. At first the going was easier, across gentle slopes of scree and thorn, and her optimism began to rise. She picked up the pace, only to halt in dismay as another ravine opened up in front of her paws, this one even deeper than the other.
The other bears joined her and stood looking down into the depths. The cliff face fell down in a series of huge steps, far deeper than a bear could stretch. These steps were slick, topped with snow. At the very bottom was a jumble of boulders with thorn trees growing among them; beyond that was what Kallik guessed was a frozen river, the surface covered with snow. As they stood gazing down, the first flakes of a new snowfall began drifting down.
“We have to climb down there?” Lusa asked doubtfully.
“I—I think so.” Kallik was beginning to wonder if the gull had really been a sign from Ujurak. If any bear slipped and fell to the rocks below, they might be killed or badly injured.
“I think we could manage it if we’re careful,” Toklo said, crouching down to examine the cliff face.
Kallik half expected Nanulak to protest, but the younger bear remained silent, staring into the ravine with wide, scared eyes.
Yakone had padded a few bearlengths along the top of the cliff; now he turned back and called, “There’s a sort of path here.”
Kallik hurried to join him, with the others following. Yakone pointed with his snout to where the rock of the cliff face had crumbled, making a thin track that zigzagged down into the depths.
“If that’s a path, then I’m a flat-face,” Toklo muttered.
But they all realized that they had no other choice if they were to go this way. Yakone took the lead, edging his way down, followed by Lusa and then Nanulak.
“Go on,” Toklo said to Kallik when they were left alone on the cliff-top. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Nervously Kallik ventured out onto the track. The loose stones shifted under her paws, making her feel that she would slip and fall countless bearlengths into the ravine.
If I slip, I’ll probably bring at least one other bear down with me.
Kallik found that it was better not to look down. Thinking of how far she had to fall made her head swim and her legs shake. It was better to take each small step with her gaze fixed on her paws. Snow was falling more thickly now; it was harder to see ahead, and the stones under Kallik’s paws grew slippery.
She was beginning to feel that she had been creeping downward forever when suddenly she had to stop to avoid bumping into Nanulak ahead of her. Risking a glance down, she saw that Yakone and Lusa had halted, too.
“What’s the matter?” she called out.
“No more path!” Yakone replied.
From behind Kallik, Toklo let out a groan. “Don’t tell me we have to climb back up this cliff!”
Kallik’s heart began to pound as she twisted her neck to look back the way they had come. Through the whirling snow she saw that the cliff stretched above her head for many bearlengths; she guessed they were about halfway down. She knew they would never manage to climb back all that way. The daylight was fading, too, and in the dark they would have no hope of finding another path.
Nanulak glanced over his shoulder to glare at her. “This is all your stupid fault!” he snarled. “You wanted us to come this way, and now we’re stuck!”
Kallik wanted to snarl back at him, but guilt washed over her as she realized he had a point. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I must have been wrong. Ujurak would never have sent us this way.”
“What do we do now?” Lusa asked. Kallik could tell that she was trying to be brave, but her voice was quivering.
“Give me a moment,” Yakone replied.
Kallik could see him a little way below, his claws digging into the shifting stones of the track while he peered down into the ravine.
“There’s sheer rock here,” he went on eventually. “But it doesn’t stretch that far. And below it the path goes on again, wider this time. I’m pretty sure I can get down there, and then every other bear can slide down onto my back. What do you think?”
“It’s worth a try!” Kallik agreed. “But for Silaluk’s sake, be careful!”
“Yes, go for it,” Toklo grunted, then added, “Thanks, Yakone.”
Kallik knew how hard it must have been for Toklo to say that. She had no doubt that if Toklo had been in the lead, he would have made the same offer. But there was no way for him to get down to where the path ended until the other bears had cleared out of the way.
Every hair on Kallik’s pelt prickled with tension as she watched Yakone lowering himself headfirst down the sheer face of the cliff. He reached out with his forepaws as if his pads could stick him to the rock, while his hindpaws remained at the end of the track. His body stretched out. Then with a sudden lurch he was sliding downward.
“Spirits, help him!” Kallik whispered, half expecting to see him go plummeting to his death.
But a heartbeat later Yakone landed on a ledge jutting from the rock. It was barely wide enough for him to stand, and he teetered on the edge for a moment before he regained his balance.
“I’m down!” he called.
“Good job!” Toklo responded.
Kallik was so relieved that she couldn’t speak. Thank you, Silaluk.
“Okay, Lusa, you first,” Yakone ordered.
The small black bear balanced herself at the edge of the track just above Yakone’s head. Hardly seeming to hesitate, she launched herself down the cliff face and landed on Yakone’s shoulders.
“Way to go, Lusa!” Kallik called, finding her voice again. “You make it look so easy!”
Lusa’s voice came up faintly from below. “Yeah, I think I’ll be a flying bear!” She clambered down from Yakone’s back and withdrew a little way farther along the ledge, where Kallik could see that the track opened up again. Yakone had been right; it was much wider there. If only we can get down there, we should find the rest of the climb a lot easier.
Nanulak edged his way forward until he stood directly above Yakone. “Here I come!” he called.
Instead of sliding down, he jumped. Kallik gasped in horror, prepared to see him overshoot the ledge where Yakone waited and go hurtling down to the rocks below. But somehow Yakone swung his hindquarters outward, colliding with Nanulak as he fell and thrusting him back toward the cliff face. Instead of landing on Yakone’s back, Nanulak c
rashed down onto the ledge.
“You moved!” he howled.
“If I hadn’t, you would have been smashed to bits on the rocks,” Yakone retorted. “Now go over there beside Lusa and stay out of the way.”
Baring his teeth bad-temperedly, Nanulak did as he was told.
Kallik’s heart beat faster as she crept down to the end of the track. Yakone’s white pelt was almost invisible in the snow, but she could see his eyes gleaming as he gazed up at her.
“Come on,” he encouraged her. “I won’t let you fall.”
Kallik remembered how he had stretched down the cliff face toward the ledge, and tried to copy him. She squeezed her eyes tight shut as she felt herself beginning to slip. A couple of heartbeats later she landed on Yakone’s solid back, with his scent all around her.
“Thanks,” she murmured as she scrambled down to the ledge. “Good catch!”
“I’ll have bruises until burn-sky,” Yakone said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Kallik padded to the end of the ledge where Lusa and Nanulak were waiting. The new path led down steeply, but it was wider than the one they had just left, and her spirits began to rise again. It won’t be long before we’re down.
Toklo was crouched at the end of the upper track, preparing himself to slide down to where Yakone was waiting.
“Come on, Toklo!” Nanulak called. “It’s easy!”
He bounded forward as Toklo slid down, as if he wanted to help break the grizzly’s fall, jostling Kallik as he passed her. Kallik felt her paws slip on the loose, snow-covered stones of the path. The edge gave way under her weight, and she let out a terrified wail as she felt herself start to fall.
“No!” Lusa darted forward and fastened her teeth in Kallik’s leg, but she was too small to drag her back to safety.
Kallik scrabbled vainly at the crumbling edge, but she knew she was toppling over, and could almost feel the wind of her fall and the crushing impact as she hit the rocks.
“Help me!” she cried.
Suddenly Yakone was there, his teeth in her shoulder, hauling her upward until she could set her paws firmly on the path again.
“You cloud-brained excuse for a bear!” he snarled, swinging around to face Nanulak. “Haven’t you got any sense?”
Nanulak took a step back. “It wasn’t my fault!” he wailed. “I was only trying to help!”
“There was no need for your help. I had Toklo just fine.” Yakone spat each word out through his teeth. “Kallik could have been killed because you didn’t think.”
“Leave him alone.” Toklo shouldered his way forward. “He’s only a cub.”
“He’s not so young a cub that he doesn’t know not to go pushing another bear when you’re halfway up a cliff,” Yakone retorted.
Nanulak shrank away, pressing himself into Toklo’s side. “I didn’t mean to,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Kallik.”
Kallik was struggling to stop her paws from shaking, and the pounding of her heart was beginning to subside. She reminded herself that Nanulak was less experienced than the rest of them, and she remembered what Ujurak had said to her in her dream; that she had to be the peacemaker.
“It’s okay,” she said.
Yakone brushed her shoulder with his muzzle. “I don’t think it’s okay,” he growled.
“There’s no point in arguing,” Toklo said. “No one got hurt. Let’s go—unless you want to stand here all night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Toklo
A few flakes of snow whirled in the wind as Toklo stood on a boulder, scanning the hillside. Behind him, his companions huddled together, waiting for him to make a decision.
More days had passed as they toiled across the island, and still there was no sign of the coast. Every path they took would fall away into a sheer cliff or end in a huge wall of rock with no way to get through. Once they found themselves trying to cross another stretch of blasted earth with firebeasts crouching among the devastation. They were all famished and exhausted, their strength ebbing with every day that passed.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” Nanulak demanded, jumping up to join Toklo on the boulder. “Admit it!”
“Calm down,” Toklo responded. “We—”
“We have to get off this island!” Panic flared in Nanulak’s eyes. “You promised!”
“Then shut up and let Toklo work out where to go,” Yakone put in, giving Nanulak a hard stare.
Oh, great, Toklo thought. Now I’ll have a fight on my paws, as well as all our other problems.
But Nanulak didn’t reply, just glared at Yakone and stood beside Toklo with a sulky look on his face.
I wonder what Ujurak would do if he were here, Toklo thought. Would he be able to spot a sign that would put us on the right path again?
He examined the landscape ahead of him more intently, trying to see it through Ujurak’s eyes. But between the rough terrain and the unnatural changes the flat-faces had made, it seemed impossible to find a way through. Just in front of Toklo, a clump of tall grass was blowing in the wind, the stalks bent backward in the direction they had come from.
“That’s no good,” Toklo muttered. “We’ve just been there! We want to go on.”
The pawprints of some smaller animal—an Arctic fox, Toklo guessed—crossed in front of him and headed in the same direction, back toward the ice cap and the ridge down the middle of the island. Toklo frowned as he looked at them.
Would Ujurak say that these were signs telling us to go back? That’s bee-brained!
The harsh cries of a gaggle of geese startled him, and he looked up to see their ragged triangle passing overhead. They too were heading toward the ice cap.
For a moment Toklo wrestled with doubt. What if these are signs? What if something is telling us to go back? Then he gave himself a shake.
“Nonsense!” he growled. “We’re going on, and that’s that!”
“Is something the matter, Toklo?”
Toklo jumped at the sound of the voice, then turned to see Lusa padding up closer to him.
“No, I’m fine,” he retorted, then added more hesitantly, “I was trying to see signs like Ujurak used to, but I’m no good at it. Everything seems to be telling me that we should go back.”
Lusa glanced back at the hills they had struggled to leave behind, and shuddered. “I hope not!” Then she paused and looked up at Toklo, her dark brown eyes round and questioning. “Suppose you’re right?” she asked him quietly. “Maybe Ujurak is trying to tell you something. Maybe he doesn’t want us to go this way.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Toklo huffed. “We have to get off the island. If Ujurak was sending us signs,” he went on, arguing with himself as much as with Lusa, “then the signs would make sense. What good can it possibly do us to go back to the middle of the island, when we’re trying to get to the sea?”
“Ujurak would know.” Lusa blinked at him. “Toklo, what if he is trying to help us? We have to listen to him!”
“You’re not going on about Ujurak again!” Nanulak’s voice cut across Lusa’s last few words.
“We can talk about Ujurak if we want,” Lusa snapped back at him. “He was our friend!”
Nanulak shrugged. “But he’s gone now, and it’s not like he was a real bear.”
“He was real,” Lusa insisted, turning away. “More real than any of us.”
Toklo crushed down a stab of anger toward Nanulak. He never knew Ujurak, he reminded himself. We can’t expect him to understand. “We thought Ujurak might be sending us signs to guide us,” he explained.
“Why do we need signs?” Nanulak asked. “We know where we’re going. We just need to find the way to the ocean!”
Toklo suppressed a sigh.
He was saved from finding a reply by Yakone, who had been studying the landscape. “I think I know how to find the way to the sea. Look at the shape of the snowdrifts,” he pointed out. “They show us the way the wind blows. And we knew where the wind was coming from when we were tra
veling along the ridge.”
“So we need to keep the wind blowing on us from the same direction!” Kallik exclaimed, grasping Yakone’s idea. “That’s brilliant!”
“It makes sense,” Toklo grunted. “That means we go this way,” he added, pointing with his snout at an angle down the hillside. “Let’s go.”
Signs or no signs, he reflected, they’ll never follow me if I try to lead them back to the ice cap.
Though the bears made more progress that day, Toklo couldn’t convince himself that they had made the right decision. There were no more dangerous ravines, but their journey was full of countless irritations. Sharp stones lay concealed beneath the snow. As they crossed a frozen stream, the ice gave way, plunging them into freezing water. It wasn’t deep, but it left them cold and uncomfortable, even the white bears with their thick fur. Later, when they tried to hunt, there was no prey to be seen or smelled.
The whole world seemed to be full of signs pointing the other way: clouds scudding across the sky, thorns that pointed back the way they had come, wind that blew directly into their faces. Toklo felt that everything around them was shrieking, Go back! He couldn’t take a pawstep without sensing that Ujurak was with him, sending him a message that they had to return.
But are these true signs? he asked himself over and over again. Or am I imagining it because I want Ujurak to be with us? I don’t want to go back, but I’d do it if I thought Ujurak wanted it.
Toklo tried to work out why Ujurak might be telling him to go back. If we do, we might come across Nanulak’s family…. Hey, wait! Maybe that’s it!
Seeing the mixed-bear family had reminded Toklo that some families were good and kind and loyal to one another. Every bear, including Nanulak, deserved to have a family like that at the start of his life.
No bear should be driven away by his own mother, Toklo thought, with a sharp pang of pain as he remembered Oka. Indignation rose inside him as he imagined what he might say to the bears who had driven Nanulak away. His paws itched to confront them.
“Nanulak is worth caring for,” he would say. “He’s happy with us now. But you’ve lost him—you’ve lost an important part of your family. And I hope you’re satisfied!”