Ujurak curled onto his side and rested his chin on Toklo’s foreleg, looking as comfortable as if they’d been born in the same BirthDen. Toklo didn’t know whether to shove him off or let him stay there, but before he could decide, Ujurak’s eyes closed and he started to snore faintly.
“Perfect,” Toklo muttered. He peeked up at the sky, where the bear spirit was still shining. It would always be his star—lonely, proud, and fierce. It didn’t need any other bears, and neither did he. As soon as he was sure Ujurak could survive on his own, Toklo would go back to taking care of himself.
Toklo felt the heat of the sun beating down through the rocks before he opened his eyes, and he rolled over, stretching. His mouth felt dry and his fur seemed too heavy, like he was carrying another cub on his back.
Another cub! His eyes flew open as he remembered Ujurak. The hollow beside him was empty. Where had the stupid cub gone now? Toklo sat up, scratching his nose. If he went outside and found that smooth-pelt sitting there, he was not going to be pleased.
Pebbles bounced against the rock behind his back, and he poked out his head, sniffing the air. Ujurak was scrabbling at the base of the boulder. At least he was still a bear cub. Toklo wondered if Ujurak was crazy and had only imagined turning into a smooth-pelt. He still found it hard to believe that the flat-face and the grizzly cub were the same creature.
“What are you doing?” Toklo snapped.
Ujurak jumped. “Looking for worms,” he said. “Or grubs. Sometimes I find things under rocks.”
“If you dug up too much dirt, this rock might have fallen over on top of me,” Toklo scolded, emerging into the sun. I sound like my mother, he thought and felt a twinge of pain.
“Oh, no!” Ujurak said. He looked horrified at the thought of squashing Toklo under a rock. “I didn’t think of that. Sorry!”
Toklo harrumphed and set off along the ravine, heading up the mountain. He could see the green meadows of the next valley through the cleft at the end, and beyond that, more mountains, their shapes filling the edge of the sky like giant slumbering bears. His claws scrabbled against the dry earth and he started to pant. He wished there were a river nearby.
Ujurak scrambled up beside him, scattering tiny stones under his paws. “So why are you on your own?” he asked, trotting to keep up. “Where’s your mother?”
Toklo hesitated. He didn’t want to tell the whole tale of how his mother had abandoned him, or how his brother had died on top of a mountain. “It’s a long story. Where did you come from?” he said.
“I don’t know where exactly…but I kind of remember my mother,” Ujurak said. “I remember she was big and kind, and I felt safe sleeping next to her.”
“Then you probably are a bear,” Toklo said. “I can’t imagine a flat-face being like that.”
“Maybe they are to other flat-faces,” Ujurak pointed out.
They came to the end of the ravine, where the green valley opened out in front of them. Trees dotted the slopes in either direction, getting thicker farther up, with snow-covered peaks above them. Toklo sniffed the air and detected a hint of grizzly on the breeze. Cautiously he started to cross the slope up to the trees in the opposite direction from the brown bear.
Ujurak lifted his head to the sky and began swinging it back and forth with his eyes closed.
“Now what are you doing?” Toklo grunted.
“I’m feeling for the star,” Ujurak said. “I’m just making sure we’re going the right way.” He scrunched up his face.
Toklo swatted a large stick down the hill and watched it bounce over the termite mounds. Ujurak could tell where his star was? Even in daylight? That wasn’t fair. And it was stupid, too.
“All right!” Ujurak said, opening his eyes. “You’re right, this is the way to go.”
“Of course it is,” Toklo growled. Of course the butterfly-brained cub would choose which way to go based on an invisible star instead of something sensible like whether there were big angry grizzlies in the way. He scrambled into the lead again, determined not to let the little cub boss him around. Thick grasses grew in tangled clumps here, some as high as his ears so he was almost wading through them.
“Where was your BirthDen?” Ujurak asked, his voice muffled by the grass. “Did you have any brothers or sisters? Do you like being on your own, or do you miss them?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Toklo growled.
“I like knowing stuff,” Ujurak said.
Toklo decided to use the same trick as before—ask Ujurak a question instead of answering. “When did you start changing shape?” he said. They were getting closer to the tree line, and Toklo hoped there would be a stream or river in the woods where they could stop to drink and cool down.
“I can’t remember,” Ujurak said. “When I was very young, I guess.”
Suddenly there was a clatter of wings in one of the bushes beside them. Toklo and Ujurak both leaped back in fright as a large black bird burst out of the bush and soared into the sky.
“Oh, weasel breath!” Toklo yelped. “If I’d known that was there, we could have eaten it!”
He turned to Ujurak, but the cub was shaking in a weird way, his whole body jerking from side to side.
“It’s nothing to be scared of,” Toklo said, puzzled.
The cub’s paws slipped on the grass, splaying out to either side, and then Ujurak’s fur started to melt into his skin, replaced by glossy black feathers that sprouted all across his back. The cub seemed to collapse, shrinking to the ground, his front paws widening into wings, his back paws shriveling into scrawny bird legs. In a matter of moments, Ujurak had disappeared, and in his place was a large black bird like the one that had startled them.
Toklo opened and closed his mouth in astonishment.
“Bawk?” said the bird, tilting its head at Toklo. “Bwaak?”
“Oh, for the love of salmon,” Toklo muttered. “What did you go and do that for, you squirrel-head? Go on, change back.”
“Kabaawk,” the bird observed, hopping forward a few steps and pecking at the dirt.
“Ujurak, you’re wasting time,” Toklo said, nosing the bird with his muzzle. “Go back to being a cub. Come on, stop playing around.”
“Bawkawkawk,” the bird announced, and then lifted off into the sky, flapping its wings.
Toklo sighed. Now what? He shook his head with frustration. He supposed he would have to wait for Ujurak to come back. Maybe there would be food in the woods, at least. He padded over to the trees and tried scuffling around among the roots and dead leaves. He managed to dig up a few bulbs and nuts, and by the time the black bird came plummeting back down out of the sky, Toklo was lying on his side in the shade, his belly full.
The bird landed in an undignified tumble of wings, and as it rolled across the ground, those wings grew longer and fuzzier. The feathers fell off like the bird was molting, and Ujurak’s bewildered face popped back out where the beak had been. He ended his roll in a heap at Toklo’s paws, gasping for breath.
“Well?” Toklo growled. “Are you done squirreling around?”
“That…was…terrifying,” Ujurak panted. “I’ve never been a bird before.”
“Well, you have now. Can we keep moving?”
“I thought I was going to die!” Ujurak went on. He shoved himself upright, shaking out his fur. “I didn’t know when I’d turn back into a bear again, or if I’d turn into something else, and if it might happen in the middle of the air, so I’d just fall right back down and crash to my death.”
“It looks like you made it okay,” Toklo remarked.
“I sensed it,” Ujurak said. “I could feel my bearness coming back, and I knew I had to land quickly. Brrrrrr.” He shook himself again. “That was much too close for me.”
“Then you shouldn’t do stupid things like turn into a bird.”
“I can’t help it,” Ujurak said, his eyes wide. “It just…happens. Usually when I’m frightened or excited.”
Toklo snorted. “Sound
s like a dumb idea to me. You should work on controlling it.”
“I suppose I should,” Ujurak said meekly. He started walking again, and Toklo had to hurry to catch up. After a few moments, Ujurak added, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, “Flying was pretty fantastic, though.”
“Well, try not to do it again,” Toklo said. “Just…concentrate harder, or something.”
Ujurak didn’t respond, and after a moment Toklo sighed. “All right, tell me about flying,” he said.
“It was amazing! I could see forever—over these mountains to the valley we came from and the ones beyond that. And I felt so light, like a leaf blowing around in the wind. The wind is really strong up there! I can’t believe I even made it back to the right spot. It felt like I could float through the air all the way to the ocean!”
Toklo only listened with half an ear, his attention focused on the landscape around them. How was he supposed to protect them from danger if Ujurak kept doing dumb stuff like this? He sniffed the air again and picked up a familiar scent.
“I smell a river,” he barked, interrupting Ujurak’s gabbling. “One with salmon in it, I think. Come on, let’s get to it—this early in the day, we might even have it to ourselves.” He put on a burst of speed and raced through the trees with Ujurak close on his paws.
The trees thinned out at the edge of the river, which was wide but shallow, with large muddy patches in the middle where the water was very low. Toklo could smell other bears, but he couldn’t see any from the wet, sandy shore; he guessed the closest grizzlies were around the bend of the river, where the trees were thicker.
“You stay here,” he told Ujurak. “I’m going to catch us a salmon.” Ujurak sat down, blinking.
Toklo stalked into the center of the river and stuck his nose under the water, lapping up the fresh, cool taste. The current was slow, but he thought he saw a glimmer of silver farther upstream. Keeping his gaze on the water, he waded upriver, feeling the mud squelch between his claws.
A flash of scales, a body sliding over the pebbles: Toklo dove for it, remembering a moment too late that he needed to aim for where the fish was going, not directly at it. His paws closed over empty stones, spraying water in his face.
“Ooh, almost!” Ujurak called from the bank. “Can I try? Can I try?”
“Shush,” Toklo snapped. He took up his position again, his back to the current, staring at the water. A long moment passed, and he felt his shoulders aching with tension. His eyes were starting to sting, but he forced them to stay open, focused on the river bottom.
“Is that one there?” Ujurak’s voice said in his ear.
Toklo jumped, roaring with surprise, and fell with a splash on his side in the river. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard the cub creeping up on him.
“Sorry!” Ujurak gasped. “I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted to see what you were doing.”
“Oh, by the Great Water Spirits!” Toklo spat. He shoved himself to all paws again, his belly fur dripping. “Fine, you can stay out here and watch me, but you have to BE QUIET.”
“I will,” Ujurak promised. “I really will.” He sat up and clamped his paws over his muzzle.
Muttering to himself, Toklo looked back down at the water. They’d probably scared off any salmon with all that splashing and hollering. But wait—something silvery pink was gliding toward them. He crouched, gauging its speed, ready to pounce where it was going to be.
“AHA!” Ujurak yelled. He sprang forward with all paws, crashing into the river with an enormous splash. The salmon shot out from under him as a cascade of water poured over Toklo, filling his ears and momentarily blinding him.
“Ujurak!” Toklo shouted, batting at his muzzle. “You’re as dopey as a black bear!” He shook his head and opened his eyes.
Ujurak was gone.
“WHAT?” Toklo growled. He spun around, searching the trees and the sky. “Ujurak, you turn back into a bear RIGHT NOW.”
Something slithered by his paws and he nearly pounced instinctively. But he stopped himself before his claws sank into the fish, realizing that it could be Ujurak.
“Oh, I don’t believe it,” he muttered at the river. Well, now he was stuck. He couldn’t keep fishing in case he caught Ujurak. “I should eat you!” he yelled. “That might teach you a lesson!”
He scrambled out onto shore and shook his head hard, trying to force the water out of his ears. As his hearing cleared, he caught the sound of voices from farther downstream.
Uh-oh. Other bears—and they were fishing.
“No!” he shouted, galloping along the bank. Just around a bend, the river widened into a small pool surrounded by spindly trees. Two grizzlies were standing in the water, looking up at him with startled expressions.
“Don’t eat the salmon!” Toklo shouted. His fur burned with embarrassment. He must sound completely crazy.
“What on earth are you talking about?” said the female grizzly.
“I haven’t eaten in days,” growled the other grizzly. “If I catch a fish, I am certainly eating it.”
“You can’t keep the river to yourself. Get lost, cub,” snarled the first bear. They both turned their attention back to the water.
Toklo tried to figure out how long it would take the Ujurak-salmon to get to the pool. The grizzlies were too big for him to fight. He had to think of something else. “They’re poisoned!” he blurted out. “The salmon—they’ll make you sick!”
The she-bear narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
Toklo shuffled his paws, trying to look pitiful. “Because that’s what happened to my mother,” he whimpered. “Why else would I be all alone? She ate the salmon from this river and then she died.”
The male grizzly reared up on his hind legs with a growl. “Salmon from this river?” he demanded. “Are you sure?”
Toklo nodded earnestly. “It was awful,” he said. “Her stomach got all hard and she smelled funny and then she threw up and then she lay down moaning and then she died.”
The she-bear waded quickly out of the river, but the male looked back down at the water as if he wasn’t sure Toklo was telling the truth.
“Maybe it wasn’t the salmon,” Toklo said innocently. “Although that was the only thing she’d eaten in days. But I guess you could try eating it and see what happens.”
The bear let out a low rumbling growl and dropped to all fours, then shambled out of the river. “This better not be a trick,” he snarled as he padded past Toklo. “If I turn around and find you eating one of these fish—”
“Trust me, you won’t,” Toklo said.
“Thanks for the warning, cub,” the she-bear growled. The two grizzlies paced off into the trees. Toklo waited until they were gone, then collapsed on the sand. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might come racing out of his chest. He’d just scared away two big grizzlies! He couldn’t believe that they’d believed his wild story.
A fierce bubbling started in the water a short way out, and Toklo sat up. He watched as a furry muzzle suddenly poked out of the water, followed by bony shoulders and shimmering flippers melting into shaggy paws. A few moments later Ujurak dragged himself out of the pool, dripping wet and coughing up water. He slumped down next to Toklo, gasping for air.
Toklo just glared at him.
Ujurak’s sides heaved. He looked up at Toklo, shivering. “I’m…really sorry,” he said.
“You should be!” Toklo roared. “I nearly got mauled by two grizzlies trying to make sure you didn’t get eaten!”
“Oh, wow,” Ujurak said, his eyes enormous. “Thank you so much. See, I knew we’d be good traveling companions!”
“You really do have bees in your brain,” Toklo said. “I don’t know if you’ve spent too much time as a smooth-pelt or whatever, but you don’t have the sense of a newborn cub. I can’t go any farther with you, Ujurak. It’s too dangerous and…and weird.”
Ujurak’s shoulders drooped. “But I thought we we
re friends.”
“Friends don’t turn into salmon and nearly get their friends killed,” Toklo snapped, thinking how ridiculous he sounded. “You’re on your own now.”
He turned and stalked off into the trees. Ujurak’s gaze felt like the sun scorching his shoulders, but Toklo kept walking. He was a lone bear. He didn’t need to travel with anyone.
He followed the scent of the other grizzlies for a short distance, until he was sure that they’d headed down into the valley. Then he circled back up into the trees, climbing higher as the sun slid slowly down the sky. He spotted the bear spirit star before it was fully dark, while the sky was still turning from light blue to deep purple. It shone brightly, and he wondered if Ujurak was looking up at it, bounding along cheerfully on his mysterious journey.
Maybe he should just check and make sure Ujurak hadn’t crossed the path of the other two bears.
He turned back, weaving through the trees in a straight line toward the sound of the river. The mountains above him were black shapes fading into the night sky, and the trees around him glowed in the moonlight. Toklo found the river and padded along it toward the pool, keeping his nose down in search of Ujurak’s scent. He hoped he would find it heading away from the river up the mountain.
But as he came around the bend of the river, he saw a small dark form huddled on the muddy bank of the pool. Toklo picked up speed, trotting faster until he was running through the sand. He skidded to a stop beside the cub.
Ujurak was sleeping. His sides rose and fell evenly, and a tiny buzzing sound came from his nose. Scattered through his fur were leaves that had fallen from the trees during the day, and patches of dirt from where he had dragged himself out of the river. Toklo looked down at him, remembering another small cub covered in dirt and leaves.
He couldn’t leave Ujurak alone. It was a miracle the cub had survived this long—without Toklo, he would be killed or eaten or maybe even squashed; Toklo didn’t know if Ujurak turned into bugs as well. But he was definitely helpless, and Toklo didn’t want another bear spirit following him around like Tobi’s seemed to.