“I wish it was. I’m starving,” Lusa complained. “How do you know which plants are good for healing and which are good for eating?” she added curiously.
Ujurak paused, his eyes fixed on something far away. “I don’t remember,” he said at last with a shrug. “I guess my mother taught me.”
“Where did you live with your mother?” Lusa asked, as they padded on after Toklo. “Were there other bears around?”
Ujurak shook his head. “I don’t know.” He pointed to another plant. “We can eat those, though they’re not proper food for bears.”
The leaves of these plants had a bluish tinge in the sunlight; they grew thickly, in big clumps. Lusa gave them a cautious sniff, then pulled off a couple of small leaves and chewed them. They crunched pleasantly between her teeth, but the taste was bland.
“Ugh!” She curled her lip. “Berries would be better.”
“We should still eat some,” Ujurak told her, coming up beside her and tearing off a mouthful of his own. “They’ll help keep us going.”
Unwillingly Lusa kept on munching; the plants didn’t seem to fill her belly at all, and the stringy stems caught in her teeth.
We have to find some better food soon, she thought.
Toklo ignored the plants completely. Instead, he grubbed among the roots of a nearby tree, and came back to them with earth around his snout. Lusa hoped he had been eating insects and not soil, but she didn’t say anything.
“There’s another eagle up there.” Ujurak pointed upward with his snout as they set off again. “I felt so strong, flying on the eagle’s wings,” he murmured almost to himself; Lusa had to pad close to his side to hear him. “Its mind was like a claw, reaching out for prey. But there wasn’t much worth catching. Flat-faces everywhere. No wild, empty spaces anymore.”
“What about the mountains?” Lusa reminded him. “There was lots of space up there.”
“But flat-faces still come.” Ujurak’s voice was faint, as if he was imagining that he soared on eagle’s wings. “Once, eagles thought the world belonged to them. Now they struggle for every kill.”
While they were talking, Toklo had drawn several bearlengths ahead; the ground sloped gently downward and thick bushes crowded up to the edge of the stone path. Lusa could barely make out the big cub’s brown pelt among the undergrowth. Suddenly he stopped and looked back. “Are you coming or not?” he called.
“Yes, wait for us!” Lusa called out, and scampered after him with Ujurak hard on her paws.
Soon after sunhigh, the stone path split into many smaller tracks, and the walls of flat-face dens began to appear among the trees.
“Whoa!” Toklo halted so abruptly that Lusa nearly barged into him. “We can’t go this way.”
Ujurak padded up beside him, peering curiously at the den walls and giving the air a cautious sniff. “It smells of firebeasts,” he murmured.
Lusa’s paws tingled with anticipation. The two brown bears had hardly ever been close to flat-faces; they had no idea of the delicious food you could find in their big silver cans. Taking a deep sniff, Lusa thought she could pick up tantalizing hints of something good to eat.
“We should keep going,” she declared. “I know where there’s food.”
Toklo glared at her. “Are you bee-brained? Bears don’t go near flat-faces. Do you want them shooting at us with their deathsticks?”
“They won’t, not if we’re quiet and clever. I’ll show you how.”
“Like I want a black bear showing me anything,” Toklo huffed. “We’re going back into the woods. I’ll catch us some prey there.”
He turned and padded off into the undergrowth; Ujurak followed, and Lusa had to go after them, casting a longing glance over her shoulders. It’s Toklo who’s bee-brained. I know I can find food there!
Once the flat-face dens were out of sight again, Toklo motioned Lusa and Ujurak to a hollow underneath a huge pine tree. “Wait here. I’ll bring back some prey.”
Lusa settled down, glad to be off her paws for a while. She could still hear the distant roar of firebeasts and pick up their harsh scent. She couldn’t give up the idea of finding food in the silver cans that flat-faces kept outside their dens. We’d have to wait until dark anyway, she figured, glancing thoughtfully at Ujurak, who was snoozing with one paw over his nose.
Her head filled with thoughts of slipping off by herself while the others slept, and coming back with enough food to satisfy them all. Toklo couldn’t call me weak then! But a pang of fear shook her like wind in a tree: Suppose they woke up while she was away, and went on without her?
The long day was drawing to an end before Lusa heard rustling in the undergrowth. She sat up, prodding the sleeping Ujurak, ready to flee in a heartbeat; then she relaxed as Toklo pushed his way out of the bushes with a single ground squirrel dangling from his jaws.
“Is that all you could catch?” she asked, dismayed.
“There’s no prey anywhere,” Toklo growled as he dropped the squirrel on the edge of the hollow. “The flat-faces must have scared it all away.”
Ujurak got up and pressed his snout against Toklo’s shoulder. “This’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll manage.”
But the squirrel was old and scrawny; shared between the three of them, it was only a couple of dry mouthfuls each. Lusa’s belly was still complaining when she had finished.
“Now will you try my plan?” she asked.
Toklo muttered something she didn’t catch.
“We can’t go on without food.” Ujurak still sounded doubtful. “Maybe Lusa’s right, and we should try the flat-face dens.”
The big grizzly cub hesitated for a heartbeat, then shrugged. “All right. But if it goes wrong, don’t blame me.”
Lusa took the lead as they padded back toward the dens in the gathering twilight. Her paws tingled with a mixture of excitement and fear. I have to make this work!
At last the cubs reached the edge of the stone path that separated them from the flat-face dens. Lusa stepped out confidently onto the hard surface; at the same moment a harsh beam of yellow light swept over her and a squealing firebeast rounded the corner. She leaped back just in time, feeling its hot sticky wind ruffle her fur as it passed. Her heart thudded hard enough to hurt; she almost wanted to turn back, but she knew Toklo and Ujurak were watching her. I’ll never hear the end of it if I give up now.
Scared and embarrassed, she muttered, “Sorry,” and looked both ways cautiously before venturing across, with Toklo and Ujurak close behind her.
On the other side of the stone path she followed the flat-face wall until she came to a gap blocked by wooden bars. Peering through, she saw an open, grassy enclosure at the back of a flat-face den; two of the big silver cans stood invitingly near the door.
Lusa sniffed, and her mouth started to water as she took in the tempting scents. “There’s food in there,” she said, dipping her head toward the cans. “Can you smell it?”
Ujurak nodded, but Toklo beckoned Lusa toward him with a jerk of his head. She padded over, blinking to get a piece of grit out of her eye. The firebeast had spat it at her as it roared past.
“We can’t go in there,” Toklo growled. “There’s nowhere to hide.”
Lusa let out an exasperated sigh. Did Toklo think the flat-faces were going to come out and give the food to him? They could only get the food if the enclosure around the den was empty. Didn’t he know anything about flat-faces? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe proper bears, bears who had always lived in the wild, didn’t have to know about getting food from flat-faces. She felt her shoulders sag.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll find somewhere better.”
Silently they crept farther along the wall. The next gap opened to reveal an enclosure edged with thick bushes; the grassy space between them had another thicket in the very middle. Two more silver cans stood by the door, giving out more tasty smells.
“This is better,” Lusa whispered. At least there were places to hide. Was that what a proper be
ar would look for?
Without waiting for Toklo to disagree, she clambered over the wooden bars and pushed her way underneath the nearest bush. Peeking out, she saw that one window of the den was lit, casting slices of yellow light on the grass, but thin, sharp-edged pelts were pulled across most of the gap; the flat-faces inside wouldn’t be able to see her.
She shifted over to give Toklo and Ujurak more space as they wriggled under the branches to join her.
“Now what?” Toklo grumbled, squirming to unhook a twig from his ear.
“I’ll go open the cans,” Lusa replied. “You two watch what I do, then you can try next time.”
She slid out of the bushes and crept across the grass, keeping the central thicket between her and the den. She was more confident now; it felt good to be taking the lead and showing the others what she could do. When she reached the main clump of shrubs, she paused to check out the den. Flat-face voices came faintly from it, but the door and windows were all closed. Lusa emerged from her hiding place and padded across the grass to the silver cans.
Prying up the lid of the first can with her claws, she managed to lower it to the ground with no more than a few scraping noises. She cushioned the can with her paws, so it wouldn’t give her away by clanging when she tipped it over. Two bulging shiny black skins tumbled out. Her mouth watering from the delicious smells that wreathed around her, Lusa ripped into one of the skins.
Among the flat-face trash she spotted a few of the potato sticks she had found before. Shoving her snout inside the skin, she crunched them up, reveling in the strong, fatty taste. Guilt swept over her as she remembered Toklo and Ujurak; glancing over her shoulder, she could make out their eyes gleaming from the edge of the bushes. But there weren’t many sticks, she excused herself. Not enough to share.
Lusa investigated the other skin, but there was nothing in there good for bears to eat. She turned to the second can, but this time the lid was stuck; when she tugged at it with her claws it shot off unexpectedly, clattering down on the path beside the door.
Lusa froze, her ears flattened. Before the noise had died away, a dog started barking inside the den. All Lusa’s instincts told her to flee. But she couldn’t leave without finding something for her friends to eat. She tipped the silver can over, not caring this time whether it made a noise or not.
The door of the flat-face den flew open. A long-legged flat-face stood there shouting; a small white dog shot out from behind him, yapping.
Over the noise, Lusa heard Toklo barking, “Get out of there! Now!”
Panicking, she clawed at the skin inside the second can. A chicken carcass rolled out; she grabbed it up and raced across the grass toward the gap in the wall. With the dog snarling at her paws, she flung herself over the wooden bars and found Toklo and Ujurak pressed against the wall outside, their eyes huge with alarm.
“Come on!” Toklo huffed. His claws scraped on the stone path as he turned and led them back the way they had come. Lusa glanced behind her; to her relief, the dog was standing in the gap as if an invisible wall stopped it from stepping onto the stone path. Its ears were flattened and it was still yapping furiously. There was no sign of the flat-face, though Lusa heard a clattering sound as if the silver can was being picked up.
“Keep up!” barked Ujurak, and Lusa realized she had fallen behind the others. She put on an extra burst of speed and caught up to them at the edge of the stone path. There was no time to check for firebeasts; they raced across, and Lusa winced as her paws sank into sticky mud where the sun had melted the black stone. She hopped on three paws, trying to pull the mud off with her teeth, but the stench made her eyes water and her muzzle ended up as sticky as her paw.
“Come on!” Toklo called. He had pushed his back half into a bush with shiny dark leaves; Lusa could only see his shoulders and his face. She dived in beside him, almost squashing Ujurak, who crouched among the branches close to the trunk.
“Here.” Lusa dropped the chicken carcass and tried not to gasp for breath too obviously. “I told you I’d find some food.”
“You told us it was easy to get food from flat-faces,” Toklo pointed out. His fur was sticking up in all directions, and one of his claws was bleeding. “You nearly got us killed!”
“No, I didn’t!” Lusa protested. “It was just bad luck that the flat-face came out. That dog was too small to hurt us. And anyway, I did get us something to eat.”
Toklo nosed the chicken suspiciously. “I’m not eating that,” he grunted. “It stinks of flat-faces.”
“What?” Lusa’s pelt grew hot with anger. “So it’s okay to eat food you catch, but not to eat what I find?”
“See? I catch food, you just find it. Or steal it from flat-faces. That shows how squirrel-brained you are,” the big grizzly cub growled. “That’s no way for a bear to hunt.”
“Well, it’s the way I hunt,” Lusa retorted. “At least I got something. Do you want us all to starve to death?”
“You don’t understand. You’re not a proper bear.” Toklo turned and pushed his way out of the bush, padding farther off into the woods.
Lusa met Ujurak’s doubtful gaze. “You’ll have some, won’t you?” she pleaded. Her belly was still grumbling; the potato sticks hadn’t been enough to satisfy her, but what she really wanted was to see her friends eating food she had provided.
To her dismay, Ujurak shook his head. “It’s not natural to eat flat-face stuff,” he said. “Besides, it smells yucky!”
“Fine!” Lusa huffed. “I’ll eat it myself.”
She gulped down the mouthfuls of chicken, crunching the bones, but it felt like chewing on wood. Toklo was right; she wasn’t a proper bear. Her paws were meant for climbing trees, not for opening flat-face cans and stealing their food.
The chicken felt heavy in her belly as she and Ujurak followed Toklo into the trees and left the flat-face dens behind.
When Toklo and Ujurak found a hollow sheltered by bushes, Lusa climbed a tree and huddled miserably on a branch. She couldn’t sleep. They would be better off without me.
The next morning Ujurak took the lead again, skirting the flat-face dens in a wide circle. The trees thinned out and gave way to tough moorland grass patched with clumps of thorn bushes. Lusa shivered as the chilly wind buffeted her fur. She felt vulnerable without branches overhead, without the comforting murmurs of the bear spirits. Ujurak led them straight across the moorland, their shadows padding dark alongside them as the sun reddened.
Rounding an outcrop of rock, Lusa halted in surprise to see three or four grayish white animals slowly wandering the hillside, their heads down as they nibbled the rough grass. “What are those?” she asked.
“Sheep,” Ujurak replied, at the same time as Toklo growled, “Your next meal.” Adding, “Stay back, both of you,” he flattened himself to the ground and began to stalk the sheep, keeping downwind of them.
Making use of a dip in the ground where a tiny stream trickled along, Toklo crept almost close enough to touch the nearest sheep before he rose up on his hindpaws, roaring with his forepaws splayed. The group of sheep split up, letting out a terrified bleating as they ran in different directions. Toklo tried to drop down on one of them, but it leaped away; his forepaws grazed its rump as it fled.
Toklo let out a snarl of fury and gave chase. The sheep dodged rocks and scattered between bushes, but Toklo stayed hard behind one of them, whipping around to cut it off before it could escape. At last he put on a burst of speed and barged into its side, knocking it over. Lusa saw the sheep’s legs kick frantically, and then it was still.
Toklo grabbed the sheep’s neck in his jaws and dragged it back to where Lusa and Ujurak were waiting.
“Great kill!” Ujurak said, his eyes shining.
Toklo nodded to acknowledge the praise. He dropped the carcass at their paws. “Eat,” he invited, settling down beside the sheep to tear off a huge mouthful for himself.
“Thanks, Toklo!” Ujurak dived in right away.
Lusa
hesitated. She felt awkward and frustrated. Toklo had provided them with good food, and all she could do was eat it. She still felt hot with shame when she remembered her own efforts at hunting.
“Thank you,” she mumbled after a few heartbeats, and crouched beside Ujurak to eat. The meat of the sheep tasted rich and warm, but Lusa felt as if every mouthful would choke her. She didn’t deserve it. She hated being so dependent on Toklo, when he clearly didn’t like her and didn’t want to talk to her.
He had judged her from the start, just because she had grown up in the Bear Bowl rather than the wild. If only he knew how much she had learned since leaving the Bowl, how much closer she was to being what he would call a proper bear now. She didn’t always get things right, but she always tried.
Why does he have to be so angry? Hasn’t he ever made a mistake in his life?
CHAPTER NINE
Lusa
That night the cubs sheltered among thornbushes, and the next day continued their trek across the moorland. Toklo pushed them on at a fast pace, and Lusa was panting when they finally reached the crest of the hills. In front of her paws the land fell away in long slopes to a valley. A river wound its way along the bottom; Lusa’s claws dug into the grass when she saw how wide it was: She could hardly make out the opposite bank.
“Is that where we’re going?” she asked.
Ujurak nodded. “The Pathway Star leads us across the river.”
“And how do you suppose we’re going to get to the other side?” Toklo growled. “I’m not going to swim.”
“We’ll find a bridge,” Ujurak said.
Lusa nodded, secretly pleased that she wouldn’t have to swim so far. She didn’t doubt that she could, but she would feel very exposed, with no overhanging trees to hide her from passing firebeasts or flat-faces.
Twilight was gathering by the time the bears reached the edge of the river. On the flat riverbank Lusa found her paws sinking into the grass and water welling up around her paws, soaking her fur. Padding alongside the river, she had to steer a winding course among clumps of longer grasses and reeds with feathery tops. The air was full of the scent of water and the thin, piping calls of strange birds.