“That’s the sea,” his mother told him. “Isn’t it wonderful? We’ll soon be back there, and it won’t be long now before the new ice comes.”
Kallik raised her snout to sniff, too, and felt the pull of the sea air drawing her back the way she had come. Uncertainty gripped her again, like the jaws of the orca. Am I going the wrong way?
“Come on.” The mother bear’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as she left the male cub to stand on his own, and nudged the she-cub to her paws. “The sea isn’t far away. And then there’ll be plenty of fish for all of us. I think I can even make out a trace of ice already.”
Ice! Kallik stiffened, sniffing frantically, but she couldn’t pick up any ice at all on the air. I’m not as good at scenting as a grown bear, she thought sadly. Maybe I never will be, because I don’t have any bear to teach me.
The mother bear beckoned to her cubs, urging them close to her. “Let’s go.”
“Can’t we ride on you?” the she-cub pleaded, struggling forward shakily.
“Yes, we’re tired,” her brother added. “And my legs feel as floppy as a fish.”
“Walk a bit first,” their mother urged, nuzzling each of them encouragingly on the shoulder. “Some exercise will make you feel better.”
She gave the male cub a gentle push to get him going. The she-cub tottered after him, and their mother brought up the rear. All three of them headed back the way Kallik had come. Back toward the Pathway Star. Away from the land, toward the sea.
Kallik’s muscles tensed. For one desperate moment, she was tempted to plunge out of her hiding place to join them. Maybe they wouldn’t attack her. The two cubs could be her friends: She liked the she-cub’s bright, inquisitive eyes with their mischievous twinkle, and her brother’s strong legs and shoulders would be good for games on the ice.
Most of all, the mother bear was gentle and loving to her cubs; she was taking care of them just as Nisa had taken care of Kallik and Taqqiq. Surely she wouldn’t drive away a cub who needed help?
I could go back with them and find the ice!
Claws tore at Kallik’s heart as she glanced over her shoulder. The moonlit path had led in the opposite direction. And maybe at the end of the path she would find Taqqiq. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to follow the path to the end!
Looking back, she saw that the mother bear had paused, sniffing the air again.
“What’s the matter?” the male cub demanded, swiping his tongue around his jaws. “Can you smell prey? Is it a seal?”
“No,” his mother told him, still concentrating on the scent she was picking up. “I think there’s another bear nearby.”
The little she-cub let out a squeak and flattened herself to the ground. “A big bear? Will it eat us?”
Her brother gave her a scornful glance; he stayed on his paws, but Kallik could see his eyes widen as he glanced around nervously.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is a young bear,” their mother murmured, half to herself. “I wonder what it’s doing here on its own. Maybe I ought to search for it.”
Kallik froze. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be found or not. While she pressed herself deep into the shadow of the boulder, part of her wanted to leap up and squeal, “I’m here! I’m here! Come take care of me!”
“Let’s look for it!” The she-cub sprang to her paws and started nosing around in a clump of reeds. “Bear! Are you in there?”
Her brother rolled his eyes and swatted at her with one paw. “Those reeds wouldn’t hide a goose, seal-brain!” He scampered off to look behind an outcrop of rocks a few bearlengths away from where Kallik was hidden. Their mother padded off to search a thicket of thornbushes.
Envy stung Kallik like one of the flat-faces’ pointy sticks. These bears were so lucky to have one another! She wanted so much to join them and have companions to play with, just as she had played with Taqqiq long ago on the ice. And more than anything she wanted a kind, loving mother to look after her and teach her how to hunt and smell the ice even when it was burn-sky.
Kallik braced herself to come out from behind the boulder. She was wondering what she ought to say to the mother bear when a breeze wafted around her and she heard her own mother’s voice whispering along with it.
I will look after you, precious Kallik.
“Nisa?” Kallik breathed. “Is it really you?”
There were no more words, but as the breeze caressed her shoulder fur Kallik felt a sudden sense of safety, as if she could feel her mother’s pelt brushing against her. Only for a moment; then the breeze died and Kallik was left alone again.
She took a deep breath and drew back into the shelter of the rock, just poking her snout cautiously around the side so that she could see what was happening. The mother bear had given up the search and gathered her cubs close to her again; she was padding away toward the sea. If I want to join them, I have to go now or I’ve lost my chance.
But Nisa’s voice still echoed in her mind: I will look after you.
Kallik struggled with a wave of loneliness as she watched the other bears walk away. She waited until they had dwindled into the distance, then rose to her paws and padded off in the opposite direction, along the path that the moon had shown her.
“I’m coming,” she promised her mother. “But please let me find Taqqiq soon. And if you can, tell him that I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kallik
Kallik trudged across marshy ground. An occasional patch of hard gray stone poked through the grass, but all it meant was that her paws were rubbed raw instead of squelching with greenish water. There was no sign of any other animals, not even flat-faces—only a few birds flying overhead and swarms of insects buzzing around her. She paused to swipe a paw in front of her face, trying to drive them off.
Kallik felt as if she were the only bear left in the world. Trying to push down her fear of this empty, unfamiliar landscape, she gazed around for some sign that she was going the right way to find her brother, but she didn’t know what to look for. She doubted the ice spirits watched over this place. She could only plod forward and hope that her paws were leading her closer to Taqqiq.
Hunger bawled in her belly, but she couldn’t see anything that would make a good meal. Here and there were scrubby bushes that she scoured for berries, finding enough to keep her on her feet but too few to soothe the sharp pangs of emptiness inside her. The sun beat down more and more strongly on her thick white fur and she longed for the cool of the ice. Her paws hurt from the stones and the tough marsh grass; seeds snagged in her pelt and stuck between her claws. She couldn’t even smell water anymore, only the endless mud.
Was I really supposed to follow the moon-path? Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Why did I have to leave the Pathway Star? I could have reached the sea by now.
Kallik jumped as a gust of wind rattled the branches of a nearby bush. She spun around, certain once more that something must be creeping up on her, but nothing moved in the empty landscape.
“Who’s there?” she barked. Her voice sounded harsh, like stones grinding together. She tried to figure out when she had last spoken aloud, but she couldn’t remember. She felt as if she’d been on her own forever.
She strained her ears, then felt foolish for expecting a reply. She realized how much she had been hoping for one; anything to relieve the loneliness of trekking across this endless plain.
When she turned to continue, she blundered straight into a clump of marsh plants, and a cloud of insects rose up around her on tiny wings. They dived into her ears and eyes, sticking to her dry lips and buzzing louder than a firebeast. She halted with her haunches in the mud, while she batted at the swarm with her front paws.
“Ow! Get off!” she squealed.
But the tiny black specks danced away from her flailing paws. They struck her face, crawled around her eyes, and crept into her nose and ears, until she wanted to claw off her fur to get rid of them. She began to run, stumbling through
the marsh as she tried to leave the stinging swarm behind, but still the insects kept up with her as if they were hanging on to her pelt.
Kallik felt hard ground ringing beneath her feet. Still surrounded by insects, she stopped and tried to shake the mud off her paws. Somewhere ahead she could pick up the cool scent of a cave. She peered through the cloud of insects and made out a smooth dome of earth, rising up out of the flat tundra. She bounded forward, over the top of the dome; on the other side she spotted a shadowy space underneath a slab of rock. With a gasp of relief, she dove into it.
The insects clung to her fur for a few more heartbeats, then seemed to notice that it was darker and colder than before, and started to buzz away in search of the sun. Kallik kept her eyes shut tight until her pelt stopped tickling, and she was certain the last of them had gone.
Panting, she opened her eyes and looked around her. The cave was small, set neatly under the curved mound. Above her head was one large stone, supported by two uprights. There were carved markings on all the stones, and Kallik gave them a sniff, stiffening when she picked up the faint trace of flat-faces. Had they set up the stones and made the markings? Why would they build a cave here? she wondered, then shrugged. Whatever their reason, they were long gone.
The cloud of insects still buzzed at the entrance to the cave. Kallik let out a long sigh.
“Don’t come inside,” she pleaded, not daring to take her eyes off them. Her voice still sounded croaky, like the bark of a walrus. “Go away. Find something else to torment.” She huffed. “I know you’re not listening to me,” she added. “I’m just talking to myself.”
Hunger clawed at her belly and her mouth was sticky with thirst. But at least the shadowed cave was cool. “I might as well get some rest,” she decided out loud.
She pushed farther toward the back of the cave, where her nose twitched at a familiar scent.
“Have bears been here?” Sniffing here and there, she found a scrap of white fur and stared at it, puzzled. She had thought that she was the only white bear for many skylengths; what would others be doing here, instead of heading for the sea?
Kallik’s heart pounded. She was afraid that the bears would come back and attack her for invading their cave, but her relief that she wasn’t alone anymore was stronger than her fear. This wasn’t an empty land after all; it was a place where white bears could live.
Beside the back wall of the cave was an untidy scatter of rabbit bones. There was not much meat left on them, but Kallik gnawed them gratefully, feeling her pangs of hunger ease a little. She wondered if she should leave the cave in case the other bears came back, but she was too tired and hot to keep on walking. Sleep crept over her aching limbs; giving in, she curled up and closed her eyes.
When Kallik woke, the soft pink glow of the early dawn was creeping into the cave. She blinked and rubbed her eyes with her paws; she felt as if she had only just closed them. The nights seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. She yawned and pulled herself to her paws. Peering cautiously out, she saw the gleam of the sun on the horizon. A new day was beginning, and a cool breeze was blowing.
As soon as she padded out into the open, her pelt crawled again with the feeling of being watched. She whirled around, but all she could see was a clump of grass waving in the breeze. Trying to ignore the sensation, she realized that bear scent lingered on the ground outside. Her belly churned; she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet other bears.
But they might be friendly, she told herself. Nanuk was, in the end. Those other bears, the ones from the metal bird, would have been friendly, too. And they’d be company, at least. Trying not to worry, she padded on into the pale morning light.
Coming to the top of a gentle rise, Kallik spotted pale flecks in the haze, scattered over a wide stretch of mud. A succulent scent drifted into her nostrils.
“Snow geese!” she whispered. “Food!”
The birds were feeding in the mud. Kallik’s first instinct was to hurl herself into the middle of the flock and grab the nearest goose, but she realized that would spook the birds long before she could reach them. Instead, she remembered what her mother had taught her. She skirted the flock until the breeze wouldn’t carry her scent to the geese before she tried to get any nearer. Their scent blew toward her; when it was strongest she crept forward, keeping low, with her belly fur brushing the ground. She set her paws down so carefully that they didn’t make a sound.
Gradually Kallik moved closer to the geese, watching their plump bodies and black-tipped wings. They were so busy feeding that they didn’t notice her. She singled out the nearest bird, standing with its back to her and its beak dipped into the mud. Taking a deep breath, Kallik pushed off with her hind legs and stretched out her forepaws in a strong pounce.
The whole flock of geese rose up, flapping and shrieking in their harsh voices. For a moment Kallik’s head spun as they whirled around her in a blizzard of wings. But she could feel her claws sinking into her prey, pinning it to the ground. It struggled to free itself, one wing flailing, until Kallik seized its neck in her jaws and killed it quickly.
She blinked, triumphant. The plover she had caught by the shore had been a lucky accident; this time she had spotted her prey, stalked it, and killed it just as Nisa would have done. I can catch my own prey. I can take care of myself.
She sank her jaws into the goose, tearing off a mouthful of flesh, crunching the bones in her strong teeth. At that moment nothing, not even seal fat, had ever tasted so delicious. The prey was warm in her belly; she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be full-fed. But before she had finished eating her kill, Kallik’s mouth was dry from swallowing feathers; a small one caught in her throat, making her cough. “I need to find a pool,” she muttered. She lifted her muzzle and sniffed, picking out a faint trace of water.
She turned aside, then halted and grabbed up the remains of the goose. There was still flesh on the bones, and Kallik didn’t know when she might find more prey. Carrying the limp carcass, she padded over the muddy ground toward the tantalizing scent of water. Once again she felt as if she was being followed, but this time she didn’t react. She knew that if she swung around to look, she wouldn’t see anything.
At last she spotted clumps of reeds surrounding a small pool, its shining surface reflecting the blue sky. Kallik dropped the remains of the goose and plunged her snout into the brackish water, shivering with relief as she drank.
When she wasn’t thirsty anymore, Kallik turned back to the goose. But as she was nosing among the feathers for another mouthful of flesh, she caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. She looked up. Eyes gleamed from the middle of a bush, watching her. The branches quivered as the Arctic fox whose prey she had stolen days before crept out into the open; she recognized it by its torn ear.
“You again!” Kallik exclaimed. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” Relief fluttered in her belly as she realized that the creature that had tracked her for so many days was no threat to her.
She studied it, tipping her head on one side. It looked as thin as she was, its hip bones jutting out from under its dusty pelt. It was alone, like her. She wondered if it felt as lonely as she did. The fox had its reddish-brown burn-sky pelt at the moment, but Kallik knew it would turn white later. Perhaps the fox was trying to reach the endless ice by then, or else its white pelt would show up too much and it would be harder than ever to stalk prey.
The fox crept a pace or two closer; its eyes were fixed on the remains of the goose. Kallik remembered how frustrated and angry she had felt when bigger bears had driven her away from food, and how her mother Nisa had been prepared to share.
“Maybe I owe you a meal,” she muttered.
She backed away from the goose carcass. At first the fox eyed her suspiciously, as if it expected her to pounce if it moved any closer. But its hunger was stronger than its fear. Suddenly it darted forward, snatched the goose, and ran off with it, disappearing into the shelter of the bush.
Ka
llik’s heart ached with a strange sadness when the fox had gone. It was the first company she had had since Nanuk died. She wondered if the fox would still follow her, now that she had repaid its stolen prey. “Travel safely,” she murmured. “I hope we both find more prey, even if we can’t catch it for each other.”
Then she turned away and set out again, feeling lighter than she’d felt in days. She had eaten and drank more than she had in a long time, and she was traveling in the company of another creature, even if she couldn’t exactly call the fox a friend. More than that, she was no longer following a hope, or a light in the sky.
She was following the scent of bears.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lusa
Lusa trotted along beside Ujurak. The sun had risen high in the sky, its light dancing on the surface of the river and turning the bears’ brown fur to a glowing russet. They padded in the same direction as the water, weaving their way through undergrowth a couple of bearlengths from the stone path, so as not to draw the attention of the firebeasts.
Lusa stifled a yawn. The night hadn’t been nearly long enough to get proper sleep; she was tired and still hungry. For a few heartbeats she longed to be back in the Bear Bowl, but it felt a long, long way away. Too far to ever go back.
Was I right to come? Toklo won’t even listen to what I want to tell him. Maybe he’s right, and black bears and brown bears shouldn’t live together.
“See that herb over there?” Ujurak interrupted her thoughts. He flicked his ears toward a tall plant with long dark leaves and yellow flowers. “It’s good for healing wounds and scratches. Toklo found some for me when the flat-faces shot me with their deathsticks.”
Lusa trotted over and sniffed the herb; it had a bitter, pungent smell. “Can you eat it?” she asked hopefully.
Ujurak let out an amused huff. “No, you chew up the leaves and put the paste on the wound. It’s not good to eat.”