The sun was hovering over the horizon as they trudged back toward their den. The cubs had recovered from the attack, but Svenna couldn’t shake her feeling of unease. Bears didn’t steal prey. It was part of the strict honor code that all bears adhered to. She’d never witnessed such barbaric behavior in her lifetime, although she had heard of such things happening during the chaos of the last Great Melting—when the sea rose, flooding the land, and the alliance of bear clans collapsed.
“Itchy!” Second said, stopping suddenly to scratch her ear with her hind foot.
“Oh no!” Svenna sighed, pushing aside her thoughts. “Snow lice?” She saw that First was scratching too. “Well, come over here. I’ll pick them out.”
Downcast, the two cubs trudged over to their mum. They hated having to sit still while she picked out the pesky mites.
“You first, First,” Svenna said.
Second tossed her head. “Mum, it sounds so silly to say you first, First. When will we get real names?”
“Just a bit longer.” Svenna looked down at the lice. “Nasty little beasts,” she muttered as she watched half a dozen drop onto the snow and skitter off. The sun had slipped away. The long night was beginning and the first stars were starting to climb up over the icy horizon. They would soon arrange themselves in the beautiful designs that made the darkness come to life.
“Are bears always named for the stars in the Great Bear constellation?” First asked, glancing up at the darkening sky as Svenna raked her claws lightly through the fur on his head. “And is it true that you can find your way by the stars?”
“They can help a bear navigate, yes. There is one called Nevermoves. If you find the Great Bear constellation, the front paw points to the Nevermoves star. That one is very helpful when traveling, for it always shows the way north.”
“Where’s your star, Mum?” First asked. “Did it slide away?”
“No, no, it’s just that with this new moon the Great Bear is in a slightly different place.” She pointed up with one claw that had a little wiggling louse on the end. “In the heel of the hind foot. There’s my star, Svenna, for which I was named.”
“And where’s Da’s? I want to know all about Da,” Second demanded, stomping her small paw.
Svenna sighed inwardly. It was always very difficult for mother bears to explain about absent fathers. Bears were solitary creatures, and this was especially true for male bears. Males and females came together only in the spring months to mate. The males cared nothing about child rearing. Yet they still often bragged about the offspring they had most likely never met.
Svenna took a deep breath. “Your father’s name is Svern, like the star in the hind knee near my heel star. You see, we walk together across the sky. Heel follows knee.” Svenna could not figure out why Second was interested in her father. It was unnatural. Cubs never knew their fathers. Why would Second concern herself with a bear she had never met, who had never given her milk?
“But you didn’t follow him here, Mum,” Second said.
“No, I didn’t,” she replied carefully. “He’s off hunting in the far, far north. Beyond the spot where they have the roarings.”
“The roarings? What’s that?” Second asked eagerly.
“Oh, it’s just something males do when they begin the hunting season.”
“Only males?” First asked.
“Yes, females don’t make such a big fuss. We just go about our business and start hunting.”
“What else, Mum?” Second squinted at the star and tried to imagine her father hunting. If her mum and father could walk together in the sky as a heel star and a knee star, then why could they not walk together on land?
“I don’t know much else,” Svenna said, eager to change the subject.
“Why not?” Second pressed.
“That’s just the way it is, Second. It’s the custom.”
First growled at his sister. “Second, you ask too many questions.”
“And you don’t ask enough!” Second snapped.
“Fine. I have one now. What’s that star?”
“Oh, that’s Svree,” Svenna said. “See how it points north to the Nevermoves star? Your great-great-grandfather was named for that star in the Long Ago. Of course many bears bore the name of Svree. It was one of the most popular bear names of all.”
“Tell us a story, Mum, from the Long Ago,” First said eagerly.
“Yes!” Second chimed in. “Tell us one of the bear clan stories. Please, Mum!”
“How your father and I loved those stories,” Svenna said, hoping that would appease Second. “That’s how we met, searching for stories that came from the Den of Forever Frost. We would often meet near there come mating season.” She had a far-off look in her eyes.
“Right,” Second said, eyes brightening. “The Den of Forever Frost, where the council used to be. And was it Svree who was king?” Those stories seemed as distant as the stars, but when her mum told them, it was as though she brought them to earth.
“No, Svree, your great-great-grandfather was not called king but chieftain. He was a member, a very important member, of the Bear Council in the Ice Star Chamber.”
“And why was it called the Ice Star Chamber?” First asked eagerly.
“Well, there are eighteen stars in the Great Bear constellation, and there are eighteen bear clans, or at least once upon a time there were. Back in the Long Ago, each clan sent a bear of great courage and valor to the Ice Star Chamber. Noble bears they were.” Svenna herself had grown up hearing these stories, although it’d been years since the last Bear Council. After the Great Melting, there’d been too much fear, too much chaos. The alliance among the clans broke apart, and soon it was every bear for themselves.
“And these bears ruled the sky?” First asked.
“No, First. No living creature rules the sky. These bears sought only to keep peace here on earth. But now”—Svenna sighed wistfully—“that noble world has vanished. No one tells the old stories. They just fade away into a mist—an ancient mist of a time before time.”
They returned to the den, and Second promptly collapsed with exhaustion. But First remained standing. Svenna could feel his eyes boring into her. It was as if this little cub was invading her mind and scraping up every morsel of any random thought.
“Mum,” he said in a quavering voice.
“What is it, dear?”
“Mum, something’s really bothering you. I can tell.”
“Just the lice.” Svenna pretended to scratch her ear. “They are pesky little creatures.”
Second raised her head sleepily. “Mum, that’s not it, is it?” She slid her eyes solemnly toward her brother as she rose wearily to her feet.
Svenna sighed deeply. “First is right. There is something troubling me.” She could not cry; she simply couldn’t. “Cubs, I am going to have to go away for a while.”
“Away?” Both cubs gasped. A look of disbelief filled First’s eyes where tears were welling. Second appeared almost angry.
“Where are you going? To the Den of Forever Frost?” Second asked. Her tone implied that this was the only excuse she’d accept. Of course! Svenna thought. This was perfect. It was a lie, but sometimes lies were useful. If her cubs thought that she was traveling to a place of legend, of honor and nobility, perhaps it would be enough to sustain them. “Yes, dear, uh … there is talk that the Ice Star Chamber is being restored.” Hadn’t Svern often spoken of this wistfully? It was the single most important idea that she and Svern shared. They’d both believed that unifying the clans and reforming the council was the only way to keep the world of the bears from falling into ruin.
First looked at her questioningly. His nostrils began to quiver. “Mum, do you really have to go?” She could still feel his eyes boring into her, as if he was invading her mind and scraping up every morsel of thought.
“I’m afraid I do, First.” She looked away from her elder cub.
“The Den of Forever Frost. Oh, Mum, how exciting,??
? Second said, her face brightening.
Svenna resumed picking out the lice and dared not lift her eyes. She knew First was still watching her. Could he smell lies?
“But what about us?” First asked.
“You’ll be going to my cousin Taaka.”
“Taaka?” First repeated, trembling slightly. There was no avoiding her elder cub’s gaze.
“Who’s Taaka?” Second said. “We don’t even know her. Why can’t we go with you?”
“It’s a long, long journey. You’re too young. But don’t worry,” Svenna said quickly. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Hello, Taaka? Here we are,” Svenna called down the opening that led into a steep tunnel in the coastal snowbank.
“Oh, come in, come in,” Taaka’s voice echoed. The cubs scrambled in ahead of their mum. It was a bit of a squeeze.
Taaka was nursing two of her own cubs. “Well, my, my, aren’t you big cubbies?” she said sweetly as she looked from First to Second. But First sniffed something beneath the sweetness of her voice and the sweetness of the milk. Something he didn’t like at all. “Come right in, little ones. I might have a bit of halibut for you. You like halibut?”
“We love halibut,” Second yipped. Clearly, she hadn’t noticed anything off about Taaka. First glared at her, but Second didn’t notice.
“Well, I’ll try and find those scraps later.”
“How nice of you, Taaka,” Svenna said. “So generous.”
“ ’Tis indeed generous, I agree. Our stores are paltry. I won’t be able to hunt now, you realize, not until these cubs grow bigger.” She looked down at her own two cubs. There was a third that appeared to have been flung to the side carelessly. The tiny thing was curled up near her feet mewling. A dark shadow of doubt stole across Svenna’s heart. Was this the right bear to take care of her cubs? But who else was there? She was so newly arrived. She didn’t know the ways of the Nunquivik.
“Yes, of course. I understand with three cubs, feeding is a challenge.” Svenna’s eyes rested on the third cub. Birthing three was somewhat unusual. She doubted this one would last. “So, as promised, I brought you this filing stone as a token of my appreciation for taking in my cubs.”
Taaka looked at it and sniffed rather dismissively, as if to say, I’ve seen better. But she took it nonetheless.
Svenna felt a tingle of dread. She swallowed and tried to conceal her fear but couldn’t dispel the ache of a sob building deep inside her. She turned to First and Second.
“Now, cubs,” Svenna said in the calmest voice she could muster. “I know you are going to be good little bears. Mind your cousin Taaka, as it is so nice of her to take you in.”
“Mum, are you really going?” Second asked. It was finally sinking in that her mother was leaving, leaving on a great adventure that was excluding her.
“Yes, Second, but it’s … it’s not forever.”
“But Da was forever,” Second whispered. A few tears escaped from Second’s eyes. First had never seen his sister so sad. There was a spark in Second that was as much a part of her as her fur. And now it was dimming before First’s eyes. He reached out and put his paw on his sister’s shoulder.
“Come outside and I’ll give you a hug,” Svenna said, her heart breaking.
“Nothing to worry about, cousin,” Taaka said sweetly. “We’re all family—clannisch!”
The cubs followed Svenna out and immediately flung their front legs around her knees. Her fur muffled their sobs as they inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of their mother, the smell of milk, of blubber, and of stories. After a long moment, Svenna peeled the cubs from her knees.
“Now, now, cubs.” She stroked the tops of their heads. “I won’t be long. I promise. I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”
“Promise, Mum?” First asked.
“Of course, dear. I promise with all my heart.”
Svenna turned; then, looking back over her shoulder, she waved good-bye and lumbered off. She felt the cubs’ watching eyes. Her tears froze on the guard hairs of her face. The cubs waved and waved and waved until she disappeared into the thickening mist rolling in from the sea.
As they crawled back into the den, Cousin Taaka peered at them with narrowed eyes. Something about her had changed in the brief time they had been outside. Taaka was still nursing two of her cubs, who looked plump and fluffy in comparison to the third one, who’d barely moved since they’d arrived. Outside, a bitter wind slashed as a blizzard rolled in. First and Second huddled close to each other, each thinking how on nights like this they would burrow into the soft fur of their mother’s thighs. The scent of Taaka’s milk stirred the air and made them hungry.
Second squared her shoulders and took a bold step toward Taaka. First was relieved to see that her old spark was back. “About the halibut?” Second said.
“What about it?” Taaka snapped.
“You said you had some. May we have it, please?”
“Oh, that,” Taaka replied dismissively. “I’ve decided I had better save it. This chubby cubby here is growing so fast, he’s going to want more than my boring old milk very soon.” She cooed at the cub and stroked him gently.
“But … ,” Second began. First nudged his sister before she could say any more.
“But what?” Taaka made a low growling sound. “You haven’t been named, I assume?”
First felt a twinge of fear. It was as if a different bear had taken Taaka’s place. The warm twinkle that had been in her eyes when they arrived had dimmed, leaving them dull and unreadable.
First inched toward the edge of the den and peeked out the cave entry to see if their mum was anywhere near. But the blinding storm had swallowed her instantly.
With a sigh, First turned back to Taaka. “I’m First,” he said slowly. “And this is my sister, Second.”
“That won’t do,” Taaka snapped.
“Why?” First asked.
“Because this is First and this is Second.” She pointed to the two newborn cubs nursing. “And this one”—she nodded toward the other cub near her feet—“is Third.”
Taaka’s meaning was clear. First and Second exchanged dismayed looks, and he could tell what she was thinking. Why should we be Fourth and Fifth? We’re older by many moons than these three little lumps. First had to admit that they were rather lumpish-looking. Their eyes had not yet opened.
“Now listen carefully,” Taaka barked. “There are the rules here. First of all, there will be no milk for you. I hardly have enough for Third. And he’s already giving me trouble. Won’t sleep. Has bad dreams or something. Always crying out in his sleep. Little idiot!”
First winced. How could a mum call her cub an idiot?
Taaka removed her own First from her chest and held him up in the air clucking and cooing at him. “This little fellow is a glutton,” she said cheerfully. “Were you a glutton, Fourth?” The two cubs blinked. “Well?”
First was confused. Does she mean me? Am I Fourth now? “Oh, sorry. I’m not used to being called Fourth.”
As she watched, Second felt fury building inside her. Why was her brother apologizing to Taaka? Second was ready to smack her.
“Well, get used to it,” Taaka snarled.
“My brother was never a glutton,” Second said, raising her chin. “He always shared.”
“No back talk!” Taaka growled and showed her fangs. First yelped and scooted back toward Second. Their mother never ever showed her killing teeth, even when she was extremely annoyed with them.
“Fifth is your proper name. Now say your brother’s proper name. Say it!”
Second felt monumental forces struggling within her. She wanted to lunge at this bear. Rip her nostrils to shreds. But what could she do? Taaka was more than four times her size. Her claws sharpened by the very file their mum had given her. Second was absolutely powerless.
“He’s Fourth,” she whispered, and felt something shrivel deep within.
“Can’t hear you! Again, please!”
Taaka raised a paw to her ear as if to hear better.
“Fourth!” Second shouted. But in her head different words rang out. My brother is First. I am Second. No matter what you call me, I am Second! And my brother is First. So there, you … you … pile of steaming musk ox scat!
Taaka narrowed her eyes. “That’s better.” The cub called Third began whimpering.
“Urskadamus!” Taaka muttered, sliding her eyes toward him in disgust.
“She used a curse word!” First whispered, but not softly enough.
Taaka’s head whipped around. “You’d swear too, you little fool, if you had given birth to three!”
“Well, that’s not really possible, ma’am,” Second said. “First is male.”
“Go to sleep right now!” Taaka roared. “That corner over there. And don’t even think about touching the halibut.”
“But we’re hungry,” Second said in a quiet, shaky voice First didn’t recognize.
“No food for rude little cubs.”
There was no food that night. Nor the next morning. The cubs were hungry and they were bored. Taaka never told stories. She never talked to her cubs at all except to say, “Get off, First, you’ve had enough.” Or “Stop mewling, Third.” Yet she very rarely let Svenna’s cubs out of her sight and refused to let them outside to play. This disturbed First considerably. He didn’t like the way she stared at them, a hungry gleam in her eyes.
That afternoon, Taaka finally allowed them a small piece of the halibut. It only seemed to make them hungrier, especially once they were forced to watch as Taaka’s oldest cub ate his first solid food. It was a large chunk of the halibut.
“You can lick those bones in the corner if there’s anything left,” Taaka said with a smirk.
Wearily, First and Second rose and began picking over the pile of fish bones in a corner of the den. First uncovered one bone that, although small, was much thicker than that of a fish. As a matter of fact, it didn’t have the salty flavor of fish at all.