Veering to one side, she careened into Toklo, knocking him off balance and nearly sending him rolling in the snow.
“Hey!” he protested.
“This is our prey,” the young she-bear growled.
We’ll see about that. Determined not to be put off, Toklo pounded after Illa, catching up with her so that the two bears were racing neck and neck for the hare. Suddenly the hare swerved toward Toklo; with a spurt of energy, he reached out for it and brought it down with a deft blow to its head.
“That’s mine!” Illa said indignantly, coming to face Toklo, her eyes blazing with frustration. “I chased it into your paws. Hand it over!”
“No. It was a fair catch,” Toklo argued.
“But you don’t understand.” Illa’s voice grew quieter, filled with desperation. “We need that hare far more than you do.”
Why? Toklo wondered. What are these bears not telling me?
“I need it, too,” he told the young she-bear. “My friends rely on me to hunt for them.”
Illa opened her jaws to go on arguing, but at that moment Aga padded up.
“Let Shesh have the hare,” she ordered.
“Shesh? That’s not my name,” Toklo said, surprised.
“But it is what you are,” Aga explained, dipping her head to him. “‘Shesh’ is the word for a brown bear.”
“You’re really giving this hare to him?” Illa broke in, sounding surprised.
Aga nodded. “There’s no reason to make these visitors feel unwelcome.”
Toklo was struck by how calm she was, and how she seemed to know all about him and his friends. It’s almost as if she was expecting us, he thought, then pushed the thought away. Bee-brain! You’re starting to sound like Ujurak!
Carrying the hare, Toklo led the way along the valley until they reached the thornbushes where he had left his friends. Lusa was on watch, and she let out a squeak of alarm when she spotted the white bears.
Toklo heard Aga whisper, “So you have come at last.” He stared at her. What does she mean?
“It’s all right, Tungulria, black one,” Aga said aloud.
Lusa gave the white bears a panicky look, then ducked out of sight into the makeshift den among the thorns. Toklo heard some shuffling and tensely whispered conversation before she reappeared with Ujurak and Kallik. He looked for Kissimi; the cub was nowhere to be seen, and Kallik was looking particularly tense and determined.
“These are my friends,” Toklo said, dropping the hare at his paws. “This is Lusa, the brown bear is Ujurak, and the white bear is Kallik.”
As Toklo introduced them, Aga and Illa gave their visitors a formal nod, which Lusa and the others returned awkwardly. Ujurak seemed most comfortable with the white bears, giving them a friendly and curious stare.
“How many white bears are there here on the island?” he asked.
“Many,” Aga replied.
“And have you lived here all the time?”
Aga didn’t seem upset by the young brown bear’s questioning. “We have lived here on Star Island for as long as my mother’s mother could remember.”
“Star Island!” Ujurak’s eyes brightened; Toklo gave him a warning look. He didn’t want his friend giving away too much about their quest.
“And where have you come from?” Aga turned her attention to Kallik, who was shifting from paw to paw and looking as if she would rather be anywhere but there.
“From . . . from the Melting Sea,” Kallik stammered.
“So it really exists!” Aga sounded impressed. “I have heard rumors of it before, from bears who traveled very, very far. You have clearly come on a long journey.” She paused, then added, “Do you have the Iqniq where you come from?”
“What’s that?” Ujurak asked.
“Iqniq is the fire in the sky,” Aga explained. “The Iqniq is our name for the spirits of our bear ancestors.”
“Yes, we have the Iqniq,” Ujurak told her. “We believe that the spirits of our ancestors watch over us.”
Aga nodded sadly. “We believe that, too—or we did once. But now we are suffering from terrible pains in our bellies. Some bears believe that we have been cursed by the Iqniq and that they are abandoning us.” The ancient bear’s voice grew deeper and more rhythmic, almost like a chant. “The Iqniq do not walk among us as they did of old, and no bear knows why. Their fires are fading from the sky, and when they have gone altogether, the sacred link between the world of the living and the world of the spirit-bears will be broken. Then living bears will be cut off altogether from their ancestors. They will be alone. The time of the bears may soon be over.”
Aga fell silent and gazed long and hard at the bears who were listening to her. At last she fixed her gaze compellingly on Lusa. “Or maybe not,” she added softly.
Toklo couldn’t think what to say. He sensed a world of pain that the old bear suffered, and he found it hard to understand. And why is she looking at Lusa like that?
It was Ujurak who broke the silence. “Are the white bears really dying?” he asked.
Illa nodded. “We just found the body of my sister, Sura. There was no reason for her to die! She was young and strong, and she had a cub.”
Toklo’s paws itched with apprehension; he forced himself not to look at Kallik.
“Did . . . did you find the cub?” Lusa stammered.
Illa shook her head sadly. “No. We assumed the poor little thing fell over the cliff. Why? Have you seen a lost cub?”
“No!” Kallik spoke far too loudly. “No cubs at all.”
Oh, no . . . Toklo thought. Now there will be trouble.
Aga was still looking at them closely, and Toklo wondered whether she suspected that Kallik was lying. But all she said was “Please keep a lookout for him. Meanwhile, you are welcome on Star Island.”
As Aga spoke, Illa gave her a startled glance, as if she thought the old bear was out of her mind. But she said nothing.
“Take care, Tungulria,” Aga said to Lusa as she turned to go. “We will see you again.”
Toklo and his friends watched the two white bears as they padded down the valley, until their pelts were lost against the background of snow.
Lusa was squirming uncomfortably, shuffling her paws. “Why did she look at me like that?” she asked. “And why did she call me by that name? It was weird. I didn’t like it!”
Toklo didn’t like it, either, but he was more concerned about what Kallik had said. “Why did you lie about having the cub?” he demanded. “He belongs with his family. If they find out that you stole him, we won’t stand a chance!”
Kallik faced him defensively, her lips drawn back in the beginnings of a snarl. “You saw how thin they looked. They can’t take care of themselves, let alone a cub. Kissimi is mine now!”
Toklo was taken aback. “Are you so bee-brained that—”
“Stop!” Ujurak yelled. His eyes were focused on the sky. Toklo was surprised by the unusual note of authority in his friend’s voice. “The Iqniq are leaving,” he whispered. “Then this is our destiny: to make them return.”
Chapter Seven
Lusa
Lusa squirmed uncomfortably in the snow-den beneath the thornbushes. Sleep had never seemed so far away. She couldn’t forget the way that Aga had looked at her, with eyes as piercing black as holes in the ice.
Why did she call me Tungulria . . . “black one”? Is it just her name for me? It sounded more like . . . It sounded as though she was expecting me.
Lusa shivered at the thought that the old bear had seemed to know so much about her. There had never been black bears on Star Island before.
I’m the very first one!
Lusa gave another massive wriggle, feeling as though she were lying on the sharpest pebbles on the whole island. Toklo, curled up next to her, gave an irritable grunt, and from her other side Lusa heard Kallik’s voice, raised in anxiety.
“Kissimi? Are you all right, little one?”
“Sorry to wake you,” Lusa muttered.
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Trying her best not to disturb her friends even more, she pushed her way out of the den and through the thorn branches into the open. The moon was floating high above in a clear sky, washing the snow-covered hills with silver.
Lusa skirted the bushes and climbed a little way up the hill, above the den, staring up at the moon and the thick sprinkle of stars. But there was no sign of the spirit-fire.
What did Aga call them? The . . . the Iqniq. Have they left us already? Are we too late?
Below her, through the snowy roof of the den, she could hear Kallik’s voice. “Now that your eyes are open, little one, you can look up at the sky and see the stars in the shape of the Great Bear, Silaluk. She runs around and around the Pathway Star, hunting seals and beluga whales. She is the greatest hunter in the world.”
Lusa’s belly rumbled, distracting her from the sound of Kallik’s voice. Scrabbling around in the snow, she found a piece of lichen she had hidden there earlier. It was crispy from the cold as she bit into it, but still tasty.
Out in the open Lusa felt more at ease, but she still couldn’t forget what the old bear had said.
She told us the white bears are dying. Could it be a curse from the lights in the sky, from the Iqniq?
Lusa wasn’t sure why the bear ancestors would want to punish the living bears. Maybe there was another reason why the bears were getting sick. Her mother, Ashia, had been taken out of the Bear Bowl when she was sick and taken back there once she was well again. Lusa had no idea what the flat-faces had done to help her. She didn’t even know what had made her mother sick in the first place.
What makes bears get sick?
She remembered how sick she had felt when she was out on the Endless Ice, eating nothing but meat. And she remembered further back still, when Ujurak had fed her herbs to help her heal after she had been hit by the firebeast.
Maybe the bears are eating something that is making them sick. Like those horrible-smelling seals.
Lusa gasped. What if that was it? The white bear Sura ate the seals, and then she died. What if it’s the seals that are killing the bears, and not an Iqniq curse?
Lusa sprang up and charged back into the den, spraying snow behind her as she ran. “Listen! Listen, everyone! I know why the bears are dying!”
Toklo blinked at her blearily. “Great, Lusa. Now leave us to get some sleep.” He closed his eyes and wrapped a paw over his nose.
There was a faint wail from Kissimi. “Look what you’ve done!” Kallik exclaimed crossly. “I’d just gotten him to sleep!”
To Lusa’s relief Ujurak sat up, looking alert, and gave Toklo a prod in the side. “Wake up. Lusa just said something important. Go on, Lusa.”
When Toklo had heaved himself up with a drawn-out sigh, Lusa explained her theory that Sura had died after eating the disgusting seal.
“But seal is a good food for white bears,” Kallik objected.
“Lusa, just because too much seal makes you feel sick, it doesn’t mean that it’s the same for every bear,” Toklo pointed out. “You’re just assuming that there’s something wrong with the seals.”
“No, I’m not!” Lusa insisted. “The seal smelled wrong, and Sura smelled the same when we found her before she died. Maybe every other seal in the world is safe to eat, but not the seals here.”
Excitement flooded over Lusa as she imagined making the white bears better. My mother told me to “save the wild,” and here’s my chance! Saving the white bears on Star Island wouldn’t save the whole wild, but it would be a big pawstep in the right direction.
“I’m going to tell the white bears not to eat seal anymore,” she announced.
“What?” Toklo huffed in contempt. “Don’t be salmon-brained! The white bears are being generous enough to let us stay here. They won’t take too kindly to some upstart little black bear telling them not to hunt seals!”
Sighing, Lusa had to admit that Toklo was right. Why would Aga and the other bears listen to me? I’m too small, and I don’t belong here. But she couldn’t shake the conviction that she was right, too. If only I could find where the white bears go to hunt seals. Then I might be able to work out why the seals are getting sick. . . .
Tiredness overcoming her, she curled up against Kallik’s back and fell asleep. In her dreams she found herself hunting seals, which vanished as she drew near, leaving behind only a stench of firebeasts and sickness.
Movement from Kallik woke Lusa; pale snow-light was filtering into the cave, and she realized that dawn was breaking. Toklo and Ujurak were stirring, too.
“I’m going out to hunt for food for Kissimi,” Kallik announced.
Lusa jumped to her paws. “I’ll come, too.” When Toklo had brought back a hare the night before, Kallik had patiently chewed some of the meat into a pulp and coaxed Kissimi to choke it down. Maybe if both of them searched together, they would find something better for the tiny cub to eat.
Kallik gently picked up Kissimi, who let out a drowsy squeak, and set him down between Ujurak’s front paws. “Look after him,” she directed.
Ujurak yawned. “He’ll be fine with me, Kallik.”
Lusa was aware of Toklo’s gaze on her as she left the den with Kallik. It was definitely a “don’t do anything stupid” look.
I won’t, Lusa promised silently. Not yet, anyway.
Kallik glanced at Lusa as they walked side by side away from the den. “I was going to look for the seals.”
“I hoped you would,” Lusa responded. “I want to see them.” If we can find where the seals live, we might find out what’s the matter with them. She could see that Kallik wasn’t convinced by her theory that the seals were making the white bears sick.
Together Lusa and Kallik padded along the shore and around the base of a hill. They had never traveled in this direction before; Lusa’s paws itched with curiosity to see what lay beyond the snow-covered slopes.
It was good to be exploring with Kallik, too, without risking an argument over Kissimi. Kallik was looking much more friendly now, more like the bear she had been before she found the cub.
As they reached the inlet beyond, Kallik, who was a few pawsteps ahead, halted, glancing back over her shoulder at Lusa. “No-claws!” she hissed.
“Here?” Lusa edged forward. “I didn’t think there were any no-claws on this island.”
“No-claws get everywhere,” Kallik replied glumly.
Peering over a boulder, Lusa saw a small flat-face denning area on a bluff above the beach. The dens had flat roofs; they were small and square, built out of white stone. Among them stood tall sticks, made out of shiny stuff, and lots of chunky green firebeasts. Flat-faces were walking to and fro among the dens.
“Why are all the no-claws dressed the same?” Kallik wondered. “Their pelts are all green, like leaves.”
“Maybe they’re made of leaves?” Lusa guessed.
“Where would the leaves come from?” Kallik gestured with one paw toward the bare landscape, where nothing grew except for a few straggly thornbushes poking above the snow.
Lusa shrugged. “Flat-faces are weird.”
Keeping well inland, Lusa and Kallik skirted the denning place and approached the shore again on the other side.
Lusa pointed with her chin. “Look! White bears!”
A whole group of white bears had gathered on the shore near the denning area. Some of them were venturing close to a line of the silver cans that flat-faces put their unwanted food in. It looked to Lusa as if an argument was going on, as if some of the bears wanted to stop the others from going near the cans.
Lusa recognized one of the bears who had planted himself in front of the row of cans, blocking his companions from approaching. His fur had a reddish tinge, as if the sun were rising behind him.
Kallik recognized him, too. “That’s the bear who watched us arrive on the island,” she murmured.
Lusa and Kallik cautiously drew closer to the white bears. “There’s Illa,” Lusa whispered. She looked around to see if Aga wa
s there, too, but there was no sign of the ancient bear.
The young she-bear was talking to a couple of the males who were trying to get at the cans. “I know you’re hungry, Tunerq,” she said. “We’re all hungry. But we’re bears. We shouldn’t be taking food from no-claws.”
“They don’t want it,” the smaller of the two males replied sulkily. “And it smells really tasty.”
“That’s not the point! We—”
“Stop telling us what to do,” the bigger male interrupted. “I want food, and I’m going to get it.”
“Are you as fluff-brained as you look, Unalaq?” Illa began scathingly. “We should be hunting seals. That’s what white bears do.”
“I’m going to talk to them.” Taking a deep breath, Lusa began marching toward the bears, unsure of what she would say when she reached them.
“Be careful!” Kallik called after her.
Lusa glanced back. “Aga said we were welcome,” she reminded her friend.
“Well . . . okay.” Kallik followed at a distance, looking wary.
Lusa’s confident pace faltered as she drew closer to the white bears. Am I brave enough for this? I didn’t realize how much bigger than me they are!
First one bear spotted her, then another, until the whole group was staring at her in astonishment.
“I told you so!” Illa said.
“You didn’t say she was the size of a hare!” Tunerq retorted.
I’m bigger than that!
Lusa’s indignation gave her courage. At least the bears were only looking at her; none of them had tried to attack.
She marched up to the white bears and stood gazing up at them. “You mustn’t eat any more seals,” she told them, trying to make her voice sound bold and certain. “It’s the seals that are making you sick.”
Tunerq looked pleased. “You mean we should just eat what’s in these no-claw cans?” he asked, obviously trying to use Lusa to bolster his own argument.
Lusa glanced at the silver cans, then back at the bears. She knew how tasty flat-face food could be; she had relied on it in the first days after she escaped from the Bear Bowl. But it’s flat-face food, not bear food. . . .