“Steady, steady.” Toklo rested a paw on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re babbling about. Calm down and tell me.”
Ujurak took in several great gulps of air; to Toklo’s relief the wild look in his eyes began to fade. “I met Tulugaq, a flat-face who could turn into a raven,” he began. “He showed me a place where oil is being dug up from the ground. It’s going to destroy the whole island unless we do something about it.”
“Do what?” Toklo asked, beginning to be irritated because he didn’t understand. “We need more direction than that.”
Ujurak’s eyes were suddenly flooded with grief. “Tulugaq died,” he whimpered. “I can’t ask him anything more.”
Gazing at him, Toklo was suddenly reminded of the young cub he had protected when they’d first begun to journey through the wild. He pushed his snout briefly into Ujurak’s fur. “Tulugaq must have given you some idea,” he said.
Ujurak just looked blank, shaking his head in bewilderment.
Before Toklo could say any more, he heard Lusa’s high-pitched squeal behind him. “Ujurak! You’re back!”
She burst out of the den and dashed up to Ujurak, pressing herself affectionately against his side. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look so sad!”
“Let’s go back to the den,” Toklo suggested, hunching his shoulders against the wind. “Then Ujurak can tell us everything from the beginning.”
The bears huddled together when they were all inside the den. Toklo noticed that Kissimi shrank behind Kallik when he entered, and he felt another stab of irritation with the feeble cub.
He’d be afraid of his own shadow!
Then he admitted to himself that Kissimi hadn’t really deserved to be scared like that, and he squeezed himself to the opposite side of the den, as far away from the cub as he could get. Kallik hesitated, then gave him a nod of thanks as she drew Kissimi close to her with one paw curled around him. She seemed to realize that Toklo hadn’t meant to frighten her cub.
Toklo made a conscious effort to relax in the warmth, listening to the sound of the wind whistling by overhead. “Okay,” he said to Ujurak. “Tell us everything.”
He listened in astonishment as Ujurak related how he had changed into a flat-face and then into a raven, flying with the old man Tulugaq. His eyes widened as he heard about the cave where the Selamiut, the spirits, gathered. And his heart sank as Ujurak described the spreading tide of oil, the whole island drowning in it as Tulugaq the raven had drowned.
“What about the white bears?” Kallik asked, her voice shaking with horror as she curled her paw even more protectively around Kissimi.
“Well, unless they can swim in oil, they’ll die!” Ujurak snapped. His voice was unusually sharp; Toklo guessed that he was feeling helpless and frustrated.
“From what Tulugaq told you, it sounds as if the spirits can give us the answer.” Lusa was frowning thoughtfully. “The flat-faces call the lights in the sky the Selamiut,” she went on, half to herself. “And the white bears here call them the Iqniq. Are all the ancestors in the world up there?”
Ujurak shook his head. “I don’t know. But the sky is very big,” he pointed out.
Since Kallik’s question about the white bears she had been silent, sunk deep in thought with her eyes narrowed. “So what should we do next?” she asked. “If the answers are in the stars, does that mean Ujurak has to go to the place where the Selamiut are?” Even as the words were coming out of her mouth, she realized, But that’s impossible!
“In the stars?” Toklo scoffed, putting words to her thought. Even Ujurak couldn’t fly so high. “Good luck with that!”
“Wait,” Lusa said, stretching out a paw to silence Toklo. “Ujurak, didn’t you say that the cave is called the Place of the Selamiut? What if the cave is the place where we’re meant to go?”
Ujurak gave her a doubtful look. “It’s a long way.”
“I think Lusa’s right.” Toklo hated to admit it, but what the little black bear said made sense. “Tulugaq mentioned the home of the Selamiut and looking for you in the stars, didn’t he? Which sounds like two different places. So one must be the cave! Besides, the flat-face couldn’t possibly have meant that Ujurak had to meet him in the real stars.” As he spoke, a chill sank deep into Toklo’s fur. The only way a bear can get to the stars is by dying. “He didn’t mean that,” he repeated aggressively. “So where else is there, except the cave?”
As his friends looked at one another, struck by his suggestion, Toklo’s paws tingled with longing to set off, to get back to the purpose of their journey.
I’ve had enough of white bears and sick seals and stolen cubs. They’re just distracting us from what’s really important.
He started as Kissimi scrambled up his shoulder, butting his tiny head into the hollow of his neck. A tiny spark of warmth woke inside him as he realized that the cub had forgiven him.
“Hey, get off,” he grunted, but he kept his paw gentle as he thrust the cub back toward Kallik. I don’t want to scare him again.
“We can’t set out now,” Kallik said, nudging Kissimi into her fur. “It’s getting dark. We’ll start tomorrow at first light.”
Toklo wondered why she sounded so eager. Then he realized why. If the cave was a long way off, it was even farther away from the white bears. They would never get Kissimi back if Kallik journeyed to the cave with him.
“And now we’d better sleep,” Toklo said. “We’ll travel faster if we’ve had a good rest.”
Toklo woke in darkness, but when he raised his head above the level of the den, he managed to make out a faint milky line on the horizon. It was still too early to leave, so he watched the others as they slept, half ashamed of the affection he felt for them. He knew brown bears were supposed to live alone, but he found it hard to imagine being without his friends.
We’ve come so far together. Are we really near our destination at last? And what will happen then? His sense of responsibility weighed on him as heavily as if the roof of the den had fallen in on him. Who will keep them safe when I’m not around?
A dull pain settled in his belly at the thought of separating from his companions, but he pushed it away. Once they got moving, there would be no time to think of that, he decided, prodding Ujurak in the side to wake him.
Ujurak’s jaws gaped wide in a yawn as he heaved himself up, disturbing Lusa, who was curled up by his side. The little black bear wrapped her paws over her nose and muttered, “Go away. I was just eating some really tasty blueberries. . . .”
Kallik jerked awake, flexing her shoulders sleepily as she looked around for Kissimi. The tiny cub was still deeply asleep, curled into a ball. He roused briefly as Kallik rose to her paws; then he scrambled onto her back, snuggled into her neck fur, and closed his eyes again.
As Toklo followed Kallik out of the den, he wondered whether the Iqniq had intended that the cub would come with them on the last part of their journey.
He was born here on the island, so maybe he belongs here more than the rest of us. Toklo stifled a huff of laughter at the thought. I’m starting to sound like Ujurak, he scolded himself. I’ll be imagining oily ravens next!
“Let’s get moving,” he said aloud. “Ujurak, you know the way, so you take the lead. I’ll follow behind and keep a lookout for the white bears.”
The bears set off in the half-light of dawn, trudging over the snow into the unknown interior of the island. They kept on as the daylight strengthened around them; Toklo’s legs began to ache, and he noticed that Lusa was starting to stumble with tiredness.
“Let’s take a break,” he suggested as they toiled past a clump of thornbushes that gave some shelter from the wind. “I’ll see if I can find some prey.”
“You need to rest as well,” Lusa objected, though she had flopped down thankfully in the lee of the bushes.
“And we all need to eat,” Toklo responded, swinging around and trekking off into the snow-covered landscape.
He was barely ou
t of sight of the bushes when he spotted an Arctic hare hopping across the landscape. It was moving away upwind of him; Toklo managed to sneak up to within a bearlength of it before it realized he was there, and he pinned it down and killed it as it tried to spring away.
On his way back with his catch he spotted two more ptarmigans huddled together in the snow. Dropping the hare, he launched himself toward them; one fluttered up out of reach, but he snagged a claw in the wing of the second and brought it down.
We’ll eat well for once, Toklo thought with satisfaction as he headed back to his friends, his jaws full of warm prey. Maybe it’s a sign that the spirits want us to go this way.
This time, as they shared the prey, Toklo chewed some of the meat into a pulp and set it down in front of Kissimi. “Try that,” he suggested, trying to make his voice gentle. Maybe the cub would like ptarmigan better when it was thoroughly chewed up. “It’s easy to eat.”
The cub sniffed the pulp doubtfully, then managed to eat a few mouthfuls. Toklo noticed that Kallik was looking at him with warmth in her eyes. “Thanks, Toklo,” she said.
When they were all crouched in the shelter of the bushes, their bellies comfortably full, Toklo rose to his paws again. “Time to be on our way.”
“I’m worried that we might get lost,” Kallik said, gazing uneasily at the land in front of them. “Ujurak, why don’t you turn into a bird and fly up to see where we have to go.”
“No.” Toklo was surprised at the determination in Ujurak’s voice; he could tell there would be no point trying to persuade him. “The end of our journey is very close now. I know that I have to be a bear when we reach it.”
As they set off again, Toklo wondered whether there was something Ujurak wasn’t telling them. He’s not usually this quiet. And there’s a look in his eyes . . . as if he sees something the rest of us can’t.
Now the land began to rise ahead of them into a ridge of low mountains: jagged, snow-covered peaks standing out against a sky that was growing dark and thunderous. A few flakes of snow began to drift down, rapidly thickening, and soon the snow whirled on the wind so that the bears had to battle on with their heads lowered into the storm. Ice crystals formed around Toklo’s eyes and lodged between his claws; every step was an effort.
We’ll all be ice bears if this goes on, he grumbled silently.
Kallik slipped on a frozen patch of ground, jostling Toklo and dislodging Kissimi from her shoulders. The cub let out a wail, though the snow was too soft for the fall to have hurt him.
“Shall I take him for a bit?” Toklo offered, as Kallik nudged the little cub to his paws and gave him a comforting lick on the snout.
Kallik turned to him, her eyes surprised and grateful. “Thanks, Toklo.”
“Come on, then, small one.” Toklo crouched down to let the cub scramble into his fur, finding that he liked the warm weight lodged on his shoulders. “Make sure you hang on tight.” I’ll look after you, little one, he promised silently.
As they continued, the ground began to slope more steeply up to the ridge.
“Maybe we should stop for the night,” Lusa suggested, weariness in her voice. “The storm might be over by tomorrow.”
“No.” Again that strange tone from Ujurak. “It’s not much farther.”
There’s something driving him, Toklo thought, trying to crush down his anxiety for his friend. Something more pressing than usual. I wish I knew what.
At last the bears reached the crest of the ridge and stood there, frozen and exhausted, looking down into the valley beyond. Toklo could see nothing but snow and broken rock, but Ujurak plunged unhesitatingly downward.
“Come on! We’re almost there!”
Once they were a few bearlengths down from the summit, the wind dropped, and the falling snow dwindled to almost nothing. But the going wasn’t much easier. Sliding in the soft, fresh snow, Toklo felt that scrambling down was even harder than climbing up. He kept an eye on his companions, giving them a nudge when they needed help. Lusa’s short legs kept sinking into the snow, leaving her trying to wade through it.
“Thanks!” she gasped as Toklo grabbed her scruff and hauled her out for the third time. “Even you can’t blame me for falling into snowdrifts here!”
Toklo had hardly set off again when the snow shifted unexpectedly under his paws, and he found himself sliding down the mountain on his rump. He let out a roar of surprise, which was joined by a squeal from Kissimi as the cub lost his grip and was flung off his shoulders into a snowbank.
“Kissimi!” Kallik exclaimed, scrambling over to the spot where he had disappeared and digging frantically with her forepaws. “Kissimi, I’m coming!”
She hauled the cub out, wet and wailing but otherwise unhurt, and nudged him back into her own fur. “I’ll take over for a while, Toklo,” she said with a nod of gratitude. “You’ve been a big help.”
Trudging on again, Toklo began to wonder if they were right to go on. He was exhausted from keeping watch over everyone and leaping to their rescue every time they fell into the snow. If the spirits wanted us to find this cave, wouldn’t they make it a bit easier?
Then he realized that Ujurak had halted and was staring ahead at an overhanging ledge on the side of the valley a little lower down. “This is the place!” he exclaimed.
Toklo let his gaze travel down the valley and then up the opposite slope. At the very top he could just make out a strange flat-face structure that looked as if it were made of sticks. It was wide at the bottom, but higher up it grew narrower, until it tapered to a point, outlined against the sky. There was something sinister about the way it seemed to be peering over the shoulder of the hill.
“What’s that?” he asked, jerking his head toward it.
“The oil rig,” Ujurak replied tersely.
“It looks so small,” Lusa said.
Toklo grunted agreement. Ujurak had worried so much about destroying it, but it looked as if he could reach out and smash it with one paw.
“There’s a lot more to it than that,” Ujurak told them. “You’ll see, but for now we have to go down here.”
He led the way slowly forward; Toklo and the others followed. A sense of awe crept over Toklo at the silence and the glimmering whiteness of the snow; he guessed that the others felt the same, for they all padded on without a sound. Even Kissimi’s whimpering died away.
As they drew closer to the ledge, Toklo heard more pawsteps nearby; he whirled around, expecting to see the white bears tracking them down the slope, but the slope was empty, the snow undisturbed except for their own tracks.
Now I’m imagining things!
But as he trudged on, he heard the pawsteps again, and this time shapes brushed past him: the huge furred bodies of white bears; caribou and musk oxen; even the scrawny bodies of flat-faces. Toklo screwed his eyes tight shut, then opened them again: The shapes were still there, but shadowy, as if something blurred his vision so he couldn’t see them clearly
An Arctic hare hopped by at his paws; Toklo reached out to swipe it and found with a thrill of fear that his claws went right through it, and he could see the snowy ground through its white pelt. He blinked, wondering if he was going crazy or just dreaming.
Then he heard Kallik’s whisper. “Do you see them, too?”
Lusa nodded, her eyes wide with awe. “There are so many of them!”
Ujurak glanced over his shoulder. His voice was strong and certain, and very calm. “These are our ancestors, the ancestors of the wild, and this is their place.”
Still feeling as if he were in a dream, Toklo walked with the others among the spirits of all the birds and creatures of the Endless Ice, hunter and prey together, joined in one company and purpose.
Climbing the slope beneath the overhang, Ujurak led the way to the mouth of a cave. Peering over the smaller bear’s shoulder, Toklo saw a wide tunnel leading back into thick darkness. Every hair on his pelt stood on end; curiosity was driving him on, and yet he wanted to get away from this strange plac
e that belonged to so many different creatures.
How can this place be safe if flat-faces come here?
And yet the only scents he could smell were warm and comforting, seeming to beckon him inside.
While he was still hesitating, Lusa padded up to the cave entrance and peered inside. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone there?”
Her voice echoed on and on, reverberating in the darkness.
“Wow, this is a big cave!” Kallik exclaimed.
“Come on,” said Ujurak. Striding forward, he led the way inside.
The half-seen creatures halted at the edge of the cave and watched as Ujurak and the others headed deeper in. Toklo felt safe with them standing there, as if they were guarding the entrance from enemies.
Nothing can harm us here, he realized.
Darkness gathered around them as they left the entrance behind. Toklo wondered what would happen when it became too dark to see anything. Then a faint white glow woke in the depths of the darkness ahead. Toklo and the others hurried forward and halted in amazement as the stone tunnel led into a vast cavern with a roof far above their heads.
Gazing upward, Toklo saw white light filtering down through snow that covered a hole in the cavern roof. In the middle of the floor was a pile of snow that had fallen in through the hole, but the edges of the cave were dry stone.
Toklo drew in a breath of wonder as he looked down at pawprints on the ground—as many pawprints as there were stars in the sky. All the creatures who had been in the cave had left their marks; Toklo even spotted the weird pawprints of flat-faces.
And how they manage to balance on those two skinny paws, I’ll never know!
He started at a shout from Kallik. “Look over here!”
Bounding over to her side, Toklo saw that she was staring at markings on the walls: lines and blotches drawn in different colors.
“What in the world are those?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
Ujurak and Lusa came to join them, staring at the marks; Ujurak frowned as he gazed at them, deep in thought.
“I think flat-faces made them,” he announced at last. “When I was with Sally, I saw her holding a stick that left a blue trail on something flat and white.”