“Toklo!” Oka snapped. “Stop being so fussy! By the Great Water Spirits, are you a bear or a squirrel?”
“I’m a bear!” Toklo cried.
“Then eat like a bear!” Oka said. “Or don’t eat at all; see if I care.”
Toklo scratched crossly at the ground. This wasn’t eating like a bear! This was eating like a scavenging wolverine. A real bear wouldn’t eat the long-dead carcasses killed by something else. He’d be out there chasing goats and rabbits and anything else with a heartbeat, slaying them with his long claws, powerful paws, and fierce teeth. A real bear would go anywhere he pleased and he wouldn’t have to drag a useless lump of fur like Tobi along behind him.
Well, Toklo was not going to eat this vile, stinking deer. Tobi could have the whole thing, not that he was strong enough to take more than two bites. Toklo sulked off to the nearest tree and sat behind it, rubbing his nose and making just enough grumbling noise so that his mother and brother could hear how upset he was.
Oka had only brought Toklo and Tobi out of their BirthDen two moons ago, and in that time they had wandered in circles up and down the valley, going from one feeding site to the next. At first it had seemed huge to Toklo, but now he felt bored and trapped, especially with the mountains surrounding them on all sides. They ate meat if they could find it, but mostly they had to make do with green plants, termites, and roots they could dig up with their long, straight claws.
Their mother always kept them close to the BlackPath of the firebeasts, which ran through the heart of their range. There was another path that crossed it higher up the valley, but that was a SilverPath, harder and shinier than the BlackPath, and the firebeasts that ran along it were much longer and larger than the regular firebeasts. Toklo’s mother called them snakebeasts, because they ran back and forth along the narrow SilverPath like big roaring snakes, making strange, high-pitched whistling and hooting noises that sounded like giant birds. Toklo could remember the place where the two paths crossed. They had found a grain spill there, piles and piles of grain just lying on the ground for them to eat. He hated the noise along the SilverPath, but at least the grain had filled him up.
He perked his ears. A long, mournful sound wailed in the distance. He recognized it, and he knew if they followed it, it would lead them to the track-crossing place. “Mother!” he called, bounding to his paws and scrambling through the snow to her side. She looked at him wearily, pausing with her claws buried in the deer’s neck.
“Do you remember the grain spill we found?” Toklo prompted. “I think we’re close to where it was. I bet I could find it again.”
“Toklo,” Oka said, shaking her head, “the grain will be long gone by now.”
“I know,” Toklo argued, “but maybe there’s been another spill. Maybe there’s more to eat there. Shouldn’t we at least look?” He was so sick of being told he was wrong, of having to live his life limited by Tobi’s weakness. This was a good idea, and he was going to make his mother see that.
To his surprise, Oka looked at him thoughtfully, the long brown fur rippling across her shoulders. Then she bent her muzzle to Tobi, sniffed him once, and looked up at her older cub.
“All right, Toklo,” she said. “Lead the way.”
Toklo’s heart swelled with pride as they climbed over a low ridge and spotted the SilverPath crossing in a dip below them. He’d found it! All on his own, he had tracked his way back to a food source, just like a grown-up grizzly bear.
When they had still been under the snow in the BirthDen, Oka had told them stories about her life before she had cubs. She told them about one caribou that she had tracked through the deep earthsleep snow for three days until it was too exhausted to continue and she killed it. That prey had provided her with food for many days.
She also spoke of the places where rocks and snow charged down the mountains, roaring like bears. She would often dig for squirrels along these paths during fishleap season. Toklo’s belly rumbled at the thought of fresh squirrel meat. He shook his head, trying not to think about it. Grain would be good enough for now.
He wished they could hunt in the mountains, but he knew better than to ask his mother again. He’d only get the same answer he always did: “Tobi isn’t strong enough yet. Mothers with cubs have to make do as best they can. Only adult males are strong enough to eat wherever they want.”
Toklo couldn’t wait to be full grown. He’d kill so much prey, he’d be able to feed his mother and brother, too. He glanced back at Tobi, shambling along with a weaving, dizzy walk. Oka touched her muzzle gently to her younger cub’s head, encouraging him forward. Why did she waste so much attention on him? Tobi would never be a great hunter. Not like Toklo.
The smell of the grain reached Toklo’s nose, and he picked up speed, running down the slope ahead of the others. When he reached a pile of the tiny yellow seeds, he bent his head and began to eat without waiting for his mother and Tobi. His belly felt like an empty cave. He didn’t care that the grain tasted dry and dustier than it had the last time they were here. At least it wasn’t rotten deer that had been trampled by firebeasts.
Tobi and Oka nosed around the pile, crunching through the scattered grain. Something rumbled under the ground, and Toklo leaned down to listen. The trembling shook his paws, and he stepped back, looking up to see one of the long snakebeasts charging along the SilverPath. The sound of its rattling paws hurt his ears, and as it went by it let out a long, mournful wail. Toklo buried his face in his paws, batting at his ears to clear out the ringing. As the noise was fading into the distance he heard something else—the snapping of branches under large paws. With a fierce grunt, Toklo spun around.
A huge male grizzly was walking toward them. It was twice Oka’s size, with a jagged scar across its flank and a wild look in its eyes. It didn’t speed up when it saw them, but it kept coming straight in their direction, as if it knew they couldn’t fight him.
“Come on, Toklo!” Oka called. “It’s time to go!” She was already halfway up the next slope, shoving Tobi along in front of her.
“But I was eating!” he protested, clawing at the dirt.
“Toklo! Now!”
He ran after her, across the SilverPath, which stung his paws with cold sharpness. They galloped up a slope flecked with snow until they reached the edge of the woods.
Toklo sat down and looked back at the crossing place. The male bear was helping himself to the pile of grain, scooping it into his mouth with his paws. Toklo seethed with fury. It was not fair that they should be driven off so easily. It wasn’t fair that he was so much smaller than that bear. He’d come all this way and found the grain on his own. He should get to eat it all!
He wished Oka would stand up for them. Why didn’t she challenge that bear down there and scare him off instead? Maybe if she fought a bit more and nagged a bit less, she wouldn’t have to spend so much time worrying about finding their next meal.
He glanced over at her and saw that she was pacing back and forth, growling to herself and shaking her head. Toklo padded over to the snowbank where Tobi was huddled and sat down next to his brother. Oka looked pretty angry. Perhaps she really was thinking about going down there and fighting that bear. Toklo felt a prickle of excitement in his paws. He could help her fight! He’d be happy to use his claws for something more exciting than digging in the dirt.
Suddenly Oka rounded on them. “You’re both skin and bones!” she spat. Toklo stared at her in astonishment. It wasn’t his fault he was so thin.
“Skin and bones,” she growled again. “Living on grain and dandelions. You need fresh meat!”
Toklo nearly blurted out, “That’s what I’ve been saying!” but he thought better of it. Given the look in his mother’s eyes, he could almost imagine her feeding him to his brother. She probably would one day, he thought bitterly. That way precious Tobi could live, at least.
Oka clawed at the snow, ripping up tufts of grass and flinging them in the air. An uneasy feeling crept through Toklo’s fur.
He didn’t know why, but it frightened him to see her like this. What was she doing to the grass? She didn’t expect him to eat it, did she?
Finally she stopped and looked at them again. With a heavy sigh, she sat down under a tree. “We must go over the mountains,” she said quietly. Tobi and Toklo glanced at each other. This was strange enough that even Tobi was paying attention now.
“Over the mountains?” Toklo echoed. Where she had always said they couldn’t go because Tobi wouldn’t make it?
“There’s a river over there,” Oka explained. “A wide river, filled with salmon. That is what we should be eating, not grain and leaves. You’ll starve if we stay here any longer.”
Toklo shivered with excitement. He didn’t know why his mother looked so worried. This sounded like the best idea she’d had in ages—a great adventure, a journey over the mountains, a chance to find out what a salmon looked like—and tasted like. Oka had told him about the plump, juicy fish that leaped out of the water into your mouth, begging to be eaten. At last his mother was making the right choice. And finally he would catch salmon like a real grizzly bear.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kallik
Kallik followed her mother away from the broken edge, back onto the ice, watching the bubbles and shadows swirling below the surface. The water gurgled behind her, and she wondered what happened to the spirits of the bears when the ice shattered instead of slowly melting. Were they washed into the sea to swim with the seals?
She wanted to ask her mother, but she could tell that it wasn’t the right time. Nisa was tense and alert, testing the ice carefully as she walked on it, her nose low to the snow to sniff for signs of thawing. Even Taqqiq was quiet for once, walking behind Kallik without whining for a ride on Nisa’s back or jumping at snowflakes.
They walked all day and saw no sign of seals. Nisa explained that it was harder to find breathing holes once the ice started to break up, because the seals could get to the air from anywhere in the water and didn’t need the holes anymore.
Suddenly she paused. Kallik held her breath. Was the ice breaking up here, too? Were they about to be plunged into the freezing water?
Nisa gave a grunt and broke into a run, speeding across the snow with her muzzle stretched out. Kallik and Taqqiq exchanged a puzzled glance and galloped after her. Nisa skidded to a halt at a small mound of snow and started sniffing it.
Kallik was disappointed. It was just a pile of snow. There was nothing to eat here.
Then Nisa reared up on her back legs and pounded on the snowbank with her front paws. She reared up again and again, smashing her massive forelegs into the snow. To Kallik’s surprise, a pair of fluffy white seal cubs spilled out of the mound of snow. Nisa killed them quickly, and her cubs rushed over to say the words of thanks and then eat.
“That was a seal’s BirthDen,” Nisa explained, her muzzle dripping with blood. “They have to have their cubs on the ice, so they leave them buried in heaps of snow while they hunt for food in the water.”
Kallik felt much better with juicy mouthfuls of seal fat in her. Suddenly it seemed like everything was going to be all right, even when burn-sky came. Her mother could look after them just like always.
Taqqiq batted at one of the seal flippers, sending it flying across the snow to Kallik’s paws. Cheerfully she batted it back, and they chased it around for a while, feeling happy and full.
“Stop that!” Nisa called. “Show more respect for your prey, little ones. Remember it was given to us by the spirits of the ice.”
As she spoke, two young male bears appeared over the nearest snowbank. They were at least a snow-sky and burn-sky old, more than twice the size of Kallik and Taqqiq. They bared their teeth and charged down the hill toward the dead seals.
Nisa raced over to her cubs. “Hurry!” she said. “They probably aren’t the only bears who smelled this prey.”
The three ran across the frozen landscape. At one point, Nisa lifted her head and roared a warning—another large bear was coming from the sunup direction. They switched course to avoid him. Alarm and excitement gave an extra burst of speed to Kallik’s paws, but she wasn’t really afraid. She knew she was safe with her mother and brother, and she loved the feel of the wind in her fur and the ice thudding below their paws. As long as she had her family, she could survive anything.
Kallik felt herself growing bigger and stronger the longer they stayed on the ice. The air felt warmer and warmer all the time, and each night when she looked for the Pathway Star she saw the moon changing shape—first getting bigger and fatter like a milk-fed seal cub and then shrinking down to a thin curl of hair floating in the sky.
One day, Nisa spotted a young seal lying on the ice, basking in the sun. She signaled the cubs to be quiet with a flick of her ears, and they crept forward on silent paws. Nisa nudged Taqqiq with her muzzle and pointed her nose toward the seal.
“Quietly,” she whispered. “Like we practiced.”
Taqqiq placed one paw cautiously in front of the other, sliding across the snow as silently as he could. Kallik stayed frozen, trying not to make a sound. Was her brother about to make his first catch?
The seal lifted its head and spotted the white bear cub sneaking up on it. With a startled bark, it pushed itself on its flippers toward its breathing hole in the ice. Kallik jumped to her paws. It was going to escape!
Taqqiq hurled himself forward, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. Nisa bounded past him and sank her claws into the seal just as it hit the water. She dragged it back onto the ice and fastened her teeth in its neck, shaking it.
“Hooray!” Kallik called, scampering up to her. “You got it, Mother! That was amazing!”
Taqqiq shuffled his paws in the snow. “I nearly had it,” he grumbled.
“You did really well,” Kallik told him. “You got much closer than I could have.”
“And you have plenty of time to learn,” added Nisa. “You’ll make great hunters one day, both of you.”
After they ate the seal, Kallik stretched out on the ice, panting. The sun beat down, making her almost wish she could shed her thick fur and warm skin. She felt like every whisker on her head was burning. She tried to press herself closer to the ice to cool down. Next to her, Taqqiq and Nisa were doing the same, slumbering drowsily in the heat. If burn-sky was any hotter than this, she thought she would melt like a chunk of ice.
Kallik was glad when the sun finally sank below the edge of the sky. It was much cooler at night, with the ice spots twinkling in the darkness above them. The moon’s light made the snow gleam, stretching for skylengths in every direction as far as a bear could see.
“Tomorrow we will leave the ice,” Nisa said with a sigh.
Kallik rested her chin on her mother’s leg. “Already?” she asked. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Nisa murmured, her black eyes sad. “We must get to land before all the ice is gone.”
“What is the land like?” Taqqiq asked. “Is the snow deeper there?”
“In some parts there is no snow at all,” Nisa rumbled.
Kallik wondered what else there could be. “Then is it just water?”
“There’s something called dirt, and stones and rocks and grass. Dirt is like brown snow, but it isn’t cold, and it goes down and down forever, no matter how far you dig. And the grass is like green whiskers growing out of the ground, which you can eat if you have to.”
“What is green?” Kallik asked.
Nisa paused, twitching her nose. “It is one of the colors in the sea,” she answered finally. “Like blue, but different. You’ll see.”
“Are there other bears there?” Taqqiq asked. “And seals? And geese?”
“There are all kinds of animals you haven’t seen yet,” Nisa said. “Like foxes—they’re even smaller than cubs, and they have sharp pointy noses and fur the color of fog. And there are beavers, who have large flat tails and big flat teeth. And caribou, big animals that travel in large groups. They ha
ve long skinny legs, and some of them have antlers.”
“What’s—” Kallik began.
“Antlers look like big claws growing out of their heads,” Nisa said.
Kallik clamped her jaw shut, astonished and a little bit terrified. Animals with flat teeth? Animals with claws growing out of their heads? Whiskers growing out of the ground?
She didn’t think she was going to like the land very much.
All night Kallik had strange dreams about odd-looking creatures and brown snow. She was relieved when her mother nudged them awake early, just as the first pale beams of sunlight began to ripple across the ice.
“We have to start now,” Nisa said, her voice filled with urgency. “We must get to land as quickly as possible.”
“But I’m hungry,” Taqqiq complained. “I want more seal skin.”
“We don’t have time to hunt,” Nisa said. She nudged both cubs to their paws with her muzzle and set off across the snow at such a rapid pace that they could barely keep up. Kallik could hear the ice creaking below her paws again, and in places it felt frighteningly thin and slippery. She stuck close to her mother, wondering what would happen to them if they didn’t make it to land.
All at once Taqqiq let out a howl of terror. Kallik spun around and saw him vanish into a black river that had opened up under his feet. With a loud crack, the ice beside her snapped off as well, and her paws slid out from under her as the whole chunk she was on tilted sideways. She sank her claws in and managed to stay on as it bobbed upright, but with horror she saw Taqqiq’s paws flailing in the dark water as he lifted his nose into the air with a terrified cry.
A jagged line like a claw scratch in the snow sliced along the surface in front of them, and the ice split in two, leaving Kallik floating on a small island in the middle of a tiny sea. She couldn’t believe how quickly it had happened—one moment they were on solid ice, and the next they were floundering through dark ocean.