“Time to move,” he said.
“Follow me,” Ujurak called. He turned off the trail and bounded up a steep slope, away from the scent of deer.
“Ujurak!” Toklo called. “You’re going the wrong way!”
But the little brown cub continued up the slope, kicking up stones and mud behind him.
Toklo looked at Lusa. “Come on!” He didn’t want her to think that he disagreed with Ujurak about which way they should go. She needed to understand that he and Ujurak were on the same journey—their journey, not Lusa’s—and she was just tagging along. Besides, there’d be other deer to catch.
He ran after Ujurak, with Lusa following a short distance behind. As they climbed, the trees gradually gave way to bushes and scrub, and then to a bare mountain slope of broken rocks. Thin grass and an occasional twisted shrub grew in the cracks between the rocks. A stiff breeze drove clouds across the sky; the rocks cast long shadows as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
“Wait for me!” Lusa called.
Ujurak stopped at the top of the slope. He was gazing ahead with the wind buffeting his fur. Toklo climbed up beside him. In front of him, he could see mountain after mountain, like ripples of long grass stretching away into the misty distance. Their rocky peaks formed an unbroken ridge high in the sky. On either side, bare slopes fell away to sunlit lowlands, the shadows of clouds scudding across green woods and fields.
There was a scuffling sound and a patter of small stones as Lusa scrambled up to join them. “We can see the whole world!” she gasped.
She was gazing around her with a mixture of wonder and fear, as if the vastness of the view were going to swallow her up. Toklo almost felt the same—compared with the sweep of ground in front of them, they were just tiny fleabites—but he pushed the thought away. Brown bears weren’t scared of mountains!
“Are we heading down there?” he asked Ujurak.
The smaller cub shook his head. “Our way lies along the Sky Ridge.”
“What?” Toklo gazed along the line of rocky peaks that stretched into the distance as far as he could see. “But there’s no prey up here. There’s nowhere to shelter—”
“We still have to go this way,” Ujurak insisted.
“How do you know?” Lusa asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” Ujurak replied. “I’m not even sure exactly where we’re going. But there are signs I can read, and they tell me that up here we’re on the right path.”
Toklo rolled his eyes. Bears looked for places where they would be safe, and where there was plenty to eat. Anything else was just cobwebs and moonshine. So why are you following him? a small voice inside him asked; Toklo did his best to ignore it.
“What sort of signs?” Lusa persisted.
Ujurak’s eyes were puzzled. “They could be anything…a tree, the scent of water, the way moss grows on a rock…I don’t really know how I know, but I understand what I have to do. And most of all, I follow the Pathway Star.”
“The Pathway Star!” Lusa started as if a snake had reared up in front of her. “Do you mean the Bear Watcher? He helped me when I was looking for Toklo.”
Toklo stifled a snort of contempt.
Ujurak turned to face the Sky Ridge. “Even when the star is hidden in the sky, I can feel it there, tugging at my fur….” His voice died away.
“I’ve felt that, too, exactly the same!” Lusa responded with an excited little bounce. “Maybe we were following the same star! Maybe I was meant to come on this journey, and that’s why I was able to find Toklo.”
“And maybe both of you have bees in your brain,” Toklo interrupted. His fur felt hot with resentment at the way the two cubs were digging up things in common—things that he knew were nonsense. The only thing they had in common was that they spent too much time dreaming. He knew which star they were talking about, but it wasn’t leading them anywhere. It lived alone, circled by hostile stars that wouldn’t let it rest. He knew how that felt, too.
“Are we going to stand here until we start to grow moss?”
Ujurak gave him an affectionate poke with his snout. “No, we’re going now.” He began to lead the way along the ridge.
Though Toklo had been uneasy about Ujurak’s choice of path, in the days that followed he grew more used to the vast stretches of land spread out on either side of their mountain trail, and the feeling of wind buffeting his fur with nothing but the wide sky overhead. His big worry was the shortage of prey; they lived on roots and insects grubbed up from the scant soil between the boulders, or now and again berries from thornbushes rooted in cracks. Pangs of hunger gripped Toklo’s belly from morning to night. At least the black bear didn’t complain, but then she was smaller than he was, so she didn’t need to eat as much anyway.
Several sunrises into their journey, when the moon had swelled to twice the size it had been when they left the forest behind, the path led them onto a narrow ledge; sheer, spiky rocks stretched upward on one side, while the ground fell away in a dizzying precipice on the other. Toklo led the way. Glancing behind to check on the others, he noticed that Lusa had dropped back a few paces. She was staring up at the sky.
“What’s that bird up there?” she called, tilting her muzzle toward the small dark brown shape hovering far above.
“A golden eagle,” Ujurak replied. “I turned into one once, when we were hunting a goat. I caught it, too.”
“You mean that bird’s big enough to catch a goat?” Lusa gasped, still gazing up at the distant shape of the eagle. “It looks so tiny!”
“That’s because it’s a long way away, butterfly-brain,” Toklo cut in. “Up close, it’s big enough to catch nosy, chattering black bear cubs.”
Lusa stared at him, her eyes huge, as if she weren’t sure if he meant what he said. Then she relaxed. “You would be racing for cover if there was any danger,” she pointed out. “If it’s big enough to catch me, it’s big enough to hurt you. We’re all safe as long as the eagle stays up in the sky.”
“It’s okay,” Ujurak said, brushing her pelt reassuringly. “When I was being the eagle, I could tell what they think, what kind of animals they like to hunt. They don’t mess with bears unless they’re really tiny.”
“If you’re quite ready, can we keep going?” Toklo chafed. The sun was going down in a blaze of fire that stretched right across the sky. He wanted to get off the ledge and find a place to shelter before it was completely dark.
But almost as soon as they set off again, Toklo’s paw scuffed against a loose stone at the edge of the path. It fell over the precipice; at once a harsh cry came from below, and the strong beating of wings. A second eagle rose into the sky.
Toklo risked a glance over the edge. A bearlength below was a narrow ledge where three large eggs lay in a twiggy nest. One each, he thought, his belly rumbling as he imagined the warm tasty stickiness sliding down his throat. It didn’t look too hard to climb down; there were pawholds and—
“Toklo!” Ujurak squealed.
Another harsh squawk sounded close above his head. The mother eagle had gained height and was swooping down on him, talons extended; Toklo jumped back from the edge just as he felt the wind of her wings in his fur. Looking up, he saw that the other eagle, the one Lusa had spotted, was plummeting down to join his mate. Toklo huffed in alarm when he realized how big they were close-up.
“Get back!” he ordered the others.
Ujurak shoved Lusa into a cleft between two rocks, and squashed himself in after her. Toklo stood in front of them, rearing up on his hindpaws to swipe at the second eagle. The bird veered off with a furious screech. His wings split the air like thunder and a long brown feather floated down the side of the mountain.
Toklo glanced back at Ujurak. He was huddled in the cleft with Lusa peering over his shoulder, her eyes full of terror.
“Come on, run,” he barked. “Before they come back.”
He waited until the two cubs were scurrying along the ledge ahead of him before he followed, ears aler
t for the sound of beating wings and shoulders braced for talons digging into his pelt. But the eagles’ cries grew fainter. As the ledge widened out and became a gully among rocks, Toklo looked back to see both eagles hovering above their nest. The mother bird settled again on the untidy pile of sticks, while her mate soared into the sky, keeping beady watch over his family.
“That was close,” Toklo muttered.
“You were terrific!” Lusa’s eyes shone in admiration.
Embarrassed by her praise—after all, he had been scared by the eagles, too—Toklo shrugged. “I wish we could have gotten the eggs.”
Ujurak gave him a friendly nudge. “I’m glad you didn’t try. They weren’t worth being pushed off the ledge.”
By now the sun was gone and only a few red streaks remained in the sky. Toklo led his companions a little farther, until it was too dark to travel safely. There was nowhere to shelter so they huddled together in the gully with the wind whining among the rocks above.
Toklo felt as if he had hardly closed his eyes before the rays of the sun woke him the next morning. On they trekked, keeping to the Sky Ridge, looking down on forests and streams glinting in the sunshine. Up here, the clouds were almost close enough to touch. Sometimes they settled on the Sky Ridge and everything went misty and cold.
“Is this what flying is like?” Lusa asked Ujurak.
Ujurak shook his head. “I never flew into any clouds. I flew when the sky was clear. It’s like plunging into a river of air, full of currents, warm in some places, cold in others. You have to swim from one current to the next, scooping the air with your wings until it lifts you up.”
His eyes glazed as if he could feel the currents of air all around him once again. Lusa was staring at him in fascination, her paws twitching on the rock as if she wanted to scoop the air, too. Toklo sighed. Cobwebs and moonshine, that was what filled these cubs’ heads. And cobwebs catch no prey.
Every day, Toklo saw the sun rise in the sky on one side of the mountains and slide slowly down on the other. The days of burn-sky were growing longer and warmer, and although Toklo would have been grateful for the fuller days of hunting down in the forest, up here on the Sky Ridge there was little prey to catch.
Soon they began to rest in the middle of the day, finding a patch of shade to drowse and lick pads that were sore from traveling over the jagged rocks. Ujurak was always the first to jump up and make them keep going.
“It’s as if there’s something waiting for us,” he explained with a puzzled look in his eyes. “I don’t know what it is, but I know we shouldn’t be late.”
Lusa seemed willing to be caught up in his urgency and Toklo went along with them, even though he didn’t understand. Arguing with Ujurak wouldn’t do any good. Besides, though he would never have admitted as much to the others, he liked being the one who was big and strong enough to haul them up the steepest rocks, or let them clamber onto his back to climb over huge boulders. He liked being the best hunter; once he brought down a skinny grouse as it tried to fly off, and felt as if he was giving the others a feast.
At one point the Sky Ridge became so spiky that the bears had to leave it and follow a path a few bearlengths down the mountainside.
Ujurak’s paws dragged. “I don’t like this,” he complained. “We should stay at the top.”
“We’ll go back when the path gets smoother,” Toklo promised. “You might want your pads bleeding, but I don’t.”
Even so, as he led the way along the new path, Toklo realized that he didn’t like it, either. Something was wrong; he kept glancing around for any sign of danger, his ears pricked and his nose quivering. All he could sense was rock and water and the thin scent of sparse mountain plants, but something close to fear made his fur stand on end. His paws tingled, and he jumped when several loose stones rattled past them.
“What was that?” Lusa whimpered.
Toklo was furious with himself for letting Lusa see that he was startled. He shrugged. “Nothing. Come on.”
“We should climb a tree,” she said.
Toklo swept a glance across the rugged mountainside. “Do you see any trees?” he demanded. “Bee-brain.”
Lusa flinched. “I just thought—”
She stopped as howling broke out behind and above them. Toklo saw four lean shapes crest the ridge and stand outlined for a moment against the reddening sky.
“Wolves!” he snarled. For a heartbeat he wanted to turn and fight, but there were too many of them—more than he could count on his paws. They were thin and savage with hunger. And after so many days of near-starvation, Toklo knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight them off. “Head for the valley!”
“But it’s the wrong way!” Ujurak protested.
“Run!” Toklo barked. He shoved Ujurak in front of him as he launched himself down the slope, not waiting to see if Lusa was following. Silently he cursed the wind; it was blowing away from them, carrying their scent to the wolves.
Beside him, Ujurak stretched out his neck and ran, leaping from rock to rock with his stubby tail bouncing on his flanks. Toklo glanced back to see that Lusa was keeping pace just behind him, her legs a dusty black blur.
The wolves streaked down the mountain, silent now, fast as floodwater. Beside Toklo, Lusa stumbled. Perhaps she’ll fall back, he thought. Then Ujurak and I can outrun the wolves. But something inside him wouldn’t let him abandon the black cub to be torn apart. With a fierce growl he dropped back until he was behind her and gave her a shove. Lusa lost her footing and skidded headlong for several bearlengths, scattering grit and pebbles. She crashed to a halt against a rock, then scrambled to her paws and pelted on. There were streaks of red on the rocks behind her; her pads were bleeding, leaving a scarlet, meat-smelling trail.
The valley with its covering of trees was growing closer. But the wolves’ howling was closer still. Toklo didn’t dare look back again, but he could imagine their hot breath ruffling his fur. He gazed around frantically for somewhere to hide, and spotted where the stream plunged into deep undergrowth.
“Over here!” he gasped to Ujurak. “The water will hide our scent.”
Ujurak didn’t reply. Without slackening his pace, his legs began to stretch and his fur seemed to melt away until it was a sleek pelt of chestnut-brown hair covering a slender, agile body. Small buds appeared on his head and sprouted into branching antlers. In the shape of a mule deer Ujurak swung around and faced the oncoming wolves.
“Ujurak!” Toklo yelled. A young mule deer, plump and grass fed, would be even tastier prey for the pack.
The Ujurak-deer hesitated for no more than a moment. Then he sprang away, heading along the slope above the tree line.
Lusa skidded to a halt and stood with her mouth hanging open. “He changed again!”
Toklo slammed into her and pushed her into the stream. “Get under the bank!”
She toppled in with a noisy splash, spluttering and shaking her head. The water came up to her belly fur. She scrambled for a foothold on the pebbles and clawed her way to the edge of the stream, where the bank hung over the water, casting a thick, cold shadow onto the ripples.
Toklo slithered down the bank and thrust himself beneath the overhang behind her, flinching at the icy bite of the water, and held his breath to listen even though his chest felt like it was on fire. For a few moments he could hear the patter of the deer’s hooves on the rock, and the wolves racing after it, howling, their belly fur brushing the ground as they gave chase. Then the sounds died away until all Toklo could hear was the gurgling of the stream and the rasping of his own breath and Lusa’s.
They were standing in the stream with water swirling close to their bellies. The current had scoured out a hollow at the side; grasses trailed down from the bank above and branches dipped down to the surface of the stream. For now they were safe.
But instead of relief, Toklo felt rage building in his chest. He let out a low growl.
“What’s the matter?” Lusa asked.
“Ujurak.?
?? The word came out as a furious snarl. “Why won’t he listen? I told him what to do….”
The wolves will tear him in pieces. A mule deer couldn’t possibly outrun a pack of wolves.
“He’ll be okay,” Lusa reassured him.
“You don’t know that,” Toklo snapped.
“I’m sure he’ll be—”
“Quiet!” Toklo snarled.
In the shadows under the bushes Toklo could just make out the small black bear next to him, frightened and confused. He turned away, clamping his jaws shut. A dark place opened up inside him when he thought of the wolves springing on Ujurak, bringing him down, ripping at him with claws and fangs…. And I’m stuck here where I can’t help him. He’ll never make it on his own.
His belly churning, Toklo forced himself to stay alert, his ears pricked as he tried to peer through the grasses that screened them. He could see and hear nothing but the gradually darkening woods and the splashing of the stream. Ujurak, where are you?
Beside him he could feel Lusa shivering and hear her teeth chattering. He watched her from the corner of his eye and saw her eyes roll upward as if she was about to lose consciousness. Was the silly creature going to collapse, as if they didn’t have enough problems?
Toklo reached out with all his senses, but there was no sign of any threats nearby. “Okay,” he growled, giving Lusa a shove. “We can get out now.”
Lusa scrabbled at the bank, but Toklo had to give her another hard shove from behind before she hauled herself out of the stream and crouched shivering on the grass.
“You can’t stay there,” Toklo told her. “We need to take cover.” He padded over to a clump of thornbushes near the bank. “Over here.”
Lusa raised her head and peered blearily at him, then struggled to her paws and stumbled across the grass until she could creep under the lowest branches. “I’m hungry,” she whimpered.