The Longest Day

  Kissimi’s eyes lit up as he saw Kallik. He charged past Illa and splashed into the shallows. Barking excitedly, he ran to meet her, rubbing his muzzle against hers. “Kallik! You came!”

  Affection flooded Kallik’s heart. “Oh, Kissimi! I’m so happy to see you!” She nuzzled him fiercely. He’d been a newborn cub—hardly bigger than a seal—when she’d found him beside his dead mother on Star Island. Kallik had so wanted to look after him. She knew what it was like to lose a mother, and she couldn’t let Kissimi feel as alone as she had.

  But a cub could never have made the journey that lay ahead of her. Reluctantly, Kallik had given him to Illa, his mother’s sister. Leaving Kissimi behind had been heartbreaking, but she knew Illa would take good care of him, and as he snuffled happily against her cheek now, as strong and healthy as any cub, she knew she’d made the right decision.

  Kallik drew back and looked at him proudly. “You have traveled so far! You must be very brave!”

  “I bet you’ve traveled farther!” Kissimi bounced around her.

  Kallik glanced at Yakone. “We’ve been a long way,” she huffed as they moved into the shallower water by the bank, Kissimi following.

  Illa and Tunerq spilled over with questions.

  “Where have you been?” Illa asked.

  Tunerq shifted from paw to paw. “How far did you go?”

  “We’ve been to the Melting Sea,” Yakone told them. “We’ve crossed mountains and forests and ridden on the back of a firesnake.”

  Tunerq tilted his head. “A firesnake? What’s that?”

  “It’s like a great trail of firebeasts that races across the land on endless silver lines. It breathes smoke and growls louder than thunder.”

  Kissimi’s eyes were huge. “You rode on its back?”

  Yakone nodded as he joined Kissimi in climbing up onto the bank. “That’s right.”

  As the shallow water washed around her paws, Kallik saw how happy Yakone looked as he shared his news with old friends. Anxiety clawed at her belly. Would she ever feel as close to these bears as Yakone did? She shook her pelt. What did it matter? As long as she was with Yakone, she would be happy.

  Lost in thought, she hardly noticed Yakone lean over the water to snuffle her ear. “Come and join us,” he murmured. “It’s not just me they’re happy to see.”

  Kallik climbed up onto dry land, and she dipped her head in greeting to the Star Island bears.

  Kissimi immediately pressed against her. “I take seal blubber to where you buried Ujurak,” he told her. “I know he can’t eat anymore, but I thought his spirit would be happy that we still remember him.”

  Kallik was surprised to feel her eyes sting with grief. At once, she was back on Star Island, her heart breaking as Toklo kicked snow over Ujurak’s battered body. Ujurak had moved a rock to protect them from the avalanche that had killed him. “That’s really kind of you,” Kallik whispered to the little cub.

  “We see him every night in the stars,” Kissimi told her.

  The bears farther up the beach were shifting, making the stones crunch. As fresh scents wafted over Kallik, she looked toward the rocky ridge at the top of the shore. Three bears were stumbling wearily over the boulders. Taqqiq! Kallik recognized her brother at once. Shila and Tonraq—Shila’s younger brother—were with him. Kallik scanned the ridge, expecting to see Salik, Iqaluk, and Manik. They had been Taqqiq’s friends once. Kallik didn’t like them, and she still blamed them for leading Taqqiq astray at the previous Longest Day. But it seemed as if her brother had traveled without them this time.

  She ran up the shore to greet him. “Taqqiq! How are you?”

  “Kallik!” Tiredness seemed to lift from her brother’s shoulders. “I hoped you’d be here.” He lowered his head—he was taller than her now, and much broader across his shoulders—to nuzzle her ears.

  Kallik sighed with relief. He’s happy to see me! Too many times in the past, Taqqiq had met her with hostility.

  Shila dipped her head as Yakone joined them. “I hope your journey was easier than ours.” She glanced teasingly at Taqqiq. “We got lost three times and had to hide from wolves.”

  “We weren’t hiding,” Taqqiq huffed. “We just chose a different route.”

  Shila rested her shoulder against his. “If you say so,” she murmured.

  There was a closeness between the two bears that Kallik recognized. She shot a questioning look at Yakone. Had he seen it, too? Were Taqqiq and Shila mates?

  Yakone was watching Tonraq as the young male lumbered down the beach toward them. “Is Pakak with you?” he asked. “And Sakari?”

  “My mother didn’t want to make the long journey,” Tonraq told him.

  “And Pakak stayed with her,” Shila added.

  What about Salik, Manik, and Iqaluk? Kallik swallowed back the question.

  Taqqiq stared at the lake. “I’m so hot!” He nudged past Kallik and stormed into the water. As soon as it was deep enough, he plunged beneath the surface.

  Tonraq eyed the water hungrily. “I’m hot, too.”

  Shila snorted. “Go on, then! You don’t need my permission.” As Tonraq hurried away, she rolled her eyes. “One day they’ll learn to think for themselves.”

  Kallik gave an amused grunt. “Taqqiq seems happy. You must be a good influence.”

  “It’s not me,” Shila told her. “He’s just back to his old self, that’s all. Without Salik and the others around, he doesn’t need to act tough.” Her gaze softened as she watched Taqqiq wallow in the lake. “He’s sweet. I’m glad I have him.”

  As she spoke, Taqqiq called from the water. “Come on, Shila. Let’s catch fish!”

  Shila caught Kallik’s eye. “We’ll catch up later, okay?” She raced to the water’s edge and waded in.

  Kallik leaned happily against Yakone. “I glad they came.”

  Yakone rubbed his muzzle against her ear. “Me too. Let’s go fish with them. I’m hungry.”

  Kallik followed him into the lake. Ducking under the surface, the bears headed for the deeper water. Above them, the sparkling surface grew dim. Kallik could see the pale shapes of Taqqiq, Shila, and Tonraq a few bearlengths ahead. A trout flitted past her nose, and she swung a paw toward it. She missed, but Yakone turned and, stretching out his head, snapped it between his jaws. He lifted his muzzle and pushed up toward the surface.

  Kallik swam after him, her lungs tight. It was a long time since they’d been in such deep water. She’d forgotten the pleasure of its weight pressing around her. She couldn’t wait till they reached the Endless Ice, where there’d be seawater to swim in. Salt water felt thicker than lake water; it pulled at her pelt with a reassuring heaviness.

  As she broke the surface, she saw Yakone floating on his back with the trout between his jaws. Taqqiq popped up a bearlength away, Shila and Tonraq surfacing beside him.

  “Get back to your side of the water!”

  An angry bark took Kallik by surprise. Four brown heads were bobbing behind Taqqiq. Grizzlies! Kallik glanced back at the shore, surprised they’d swum so far. And yet they weren’t that close to the brown bears’ beach. These grizzlies were a long way out.

  “The lake’s big enough to share!” she called back. It felt strange to be arguing with a brown bear after so many moons hunting beside Toklo.

  In response, one of the grizzlies pushed through the water toward Shila, Tonraq, and Taqqiq. Shila had a large salmon between her jaws, and Kallik saw the grizzly’s gaze fix on it as he plowed closer. The other three brown bears swam in his wake.

  Yakone dropped his trout and flipped onto his front. Kallik dove to catch it. As she surfaced, she saw Yakone heading toward Taqqiq. Tonraq and Taqqiq were facing the grizzlies, growling.

  Tonraq slapped a paw hard on the lake’s surface, sending water spraying toward the brown bears. “No brown bear tells us where to hunt!” he snarled.

  Taqqiq swam sideways, blocking the gap between the grizzlies and Shila. “You have the forest to hunt in!” he sho
uted.

  “The fish here are ours!” The grizzly who had spoken before was now swimming in place, his lip curled. “Get back to your own side.”

  “Or what?” Tonraq growled.

  Taqqiq snorted, slapping the water again. “Don’t threaten a white bear when he’s swimming! You can hardly keep your head above water. Go back to the shallows. Your paws are only fit for land.”

  The other brown bears lined up beside the first. One snapped his jaws, the wet fur around his neck spiking.

  Kallik dropped the trout into her paws. “Come on!” she called to Taqqiq. “Let’s leave them to fish.”

  Tonraq spun around, spraying water, and hissed at her. “Have you forgotten where your loyalties lie?”

  “But we’re all bears!” Kallik glanced toward Taqqiq and Yakone, hoping one of them would back her up. But they both kept their gaze fixed on the brown bears.

  Frustrated, Kallik looked at Shila. Did she think this was a battle worth fighting? Shila was struggling to keep hold of the salmon thrashing in her jaws. “Let’s take our catch back to shore,” Kallik urged her. If she could get Shila away, the others might follow. She placed the trout back between her jaws, before turning away from the blustering males and swimming back toward the white bears’ beach. As she felt the lake bed rise to meet her paws, she glanced back.

  Shila was following, but Yakone and the others were still exchanging splashes and snarls with the brown bears. At least none of them were within striking distance; perhaps this would be a show of strength rather than a fight with teeth and claws.

  Kallik climbed up the sloping shelf of rock onto the shore. Shila padded beside her, pelt streaming. They dropped their catch as they passed the waterline.

  “Those dumb brown bears.” Shila stared angrily across the water. “If I wasn’t holding a fish, I’d have shown them who was trespassing!”

  At last, Yakone, Taqqiq, and Tonraq were swimming for shore. The brown bears had turned away and were diving for fish.

  “What was that about?” Illa hurried over the stones toward Kallik and Shila. “What were those grizzlies doing?”

  Before Kallik could answer, a gruff bark came from farther up the shore. “They were on our side of the water!” She recognized it at once.

  Taqqiq’s former friend Salik was staring across the lake, fury in his eyes. Manik and Iqaluk stood beside him, their pelts spiked with anger. Kallik’s heart sank. They must have just arrived, and they were already stirring up trouble.

  Then she saw Anarteq amble from beneath the pines. The old white bear would soon sort this out. Kallik felt a tremor of concern as she studied him. He looked smaller than last suncircle. And so old! His white fur had yellowed and his snout was grizzled.

  Yakone splashed from the water. Kallik jerked her head in the direction of the old bear. “Look, Anarteq has shrunk!”

  “You’ve grown,” he reminded her.

  “But he looks so old.”

  “He is old.”

  “Not too old to stop this silly argument.” Kallik looked hopefully toward Anarteq.

  Salik was already circling the old bear. “Are you going to tell those brown bears that they’re trespassing?”

  Shila growled. “We can’t let them get too close—not unless we want them to start thinking they can fish in our part of the lake.”

  Grunts of agreement sounded from the other bears gathered on the shore.

  Kunik, an old male whom Kallik remembered from the last gathering, turned his cloudy gaze toward the brown bears’ stretch of shore. “Perhaps we should send a group to discuss a boundary within the lake.”

  Anarteq followed his gaze, not speaking.

  Salik tossed his head impatiently. “Well?”

  To Kallik’s surprise, Anarteq shrugged. “What does it matter?” he muttered. “Fish will go where they like, as will bears.”

  “Is that it?” Salik spluttered.

  Illa looked puzzled. “But what if they come into our part of the lake?”

  Anarteq blinked. “If you want to fight, then fight. If you want to fish, then fish. Whatever you do, the world will still keep melting around us.” He lumbered back into the shade and lay down stiffly on the pine needles.

  Sympathy for the old bear washed over Kallik. He must be weary after the long journey here.

  “Is that all he’s going to say?” Illa protested.

  Yakone pawed the trout toward her. “Here, at least we caught something. And I don’t think those brown bears will be in a hurry to come too close to us again.”

  Kallik shifted her paws uneasily. Yakone had slipped back into the ways of the white bears so easily—hurrying to defend Taqqiq and Tonraq; untroubled by the tension that had already sprung up between the white bears and the brown bears. Hadn’t his journey with Toklo and Lusa changed him at all? Perhaps it changed me too much. Guilt stabbed Kallik’s belly. She looked back toward the brown bears’ shore. The grizzly and his friends were clambering out of the water. Other bears clustered around them, and Kallik felt sure they were throwing glances toward the white bears. Were they muttering angrily among themselves just like Salik, Iqaluk, and Manik?

  “Brown bears are too greedy,” Salik complained.

  “They think they own the water and the woods,” Manik snarled.

  Yakone nudged a piece of trout toward Kallik. “Eat,” he murmured.

  She lapped up the pale meat and chewed, hardly tasting it. Why couldn’t the bears find a way to be peaceful? Is everyone just looking for a reason to fight?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lusa

  Lusa brushed dried leaves into the dip where she’d made a nest with Ossi. Pokkoli was already sleeping, tucked into a crook in the tree above them. She could hear his gentle snores and just make out his shape, little more than a shadow among the branches. The sun had been slowly setting and, at last, had dropped below the horizon. It would still be a while before dark, and Lusa remembered with a pang of affection the long leaftime evenings in the Bear Bowl, when she had played with Yogi in the twilight.

  Ossi slid into the dip, sending the leaves fluttering. Curling up at the bottom, he yawned. “I’m so sleepy.”

  “Me too.” Lusa hesitated at the edge. Around her, the other black bears were settling in for the night. Dustu had tucked himself beneath a cloudberry bush. Dena was sharing a nest beside a fallen tree with two other she-bears. More bears clung dozily to the branches around the camp, letting the breeze rock them gently to sleep. No sign of Miki or Chula. Lusa turned around, scanning the woods one more time.

  A she-cub was moving beneath the trees. She stopped beside a swirl in the bark of a birch tree and whispered, “Spirit? Are you there?”

  Lusa watched her, remembering when she’d found Chenoa’s spirit. Chenoa was a black bear who had traveled with them for a while. But the friendly she-bear had died when the river had swept her over a waterfall. Grief twisted Lusa’s heart. Was this she-cub searching for a lost friend, too?

  Two young bears bounded up the slope toward the cub. They looked so alike that Lusa guessed they were brothers. “Are you still looking for bear spirits?” the larger bear asked.

  “Mother says you have to come back to the nest,” the other told her.

  The she-cub stared at them crossly. “I’m not coming until I’ve found one. There must be lots here.”

  Lusa glanced at the trees. What a lovely thought! To be surrounded by black bear spirits as she slept.

  The larger bear rolled his eyes. “It’s getting dark. Even if there are spirits, they won’t be able to see you.”

  The she-cub dug her paws into the earth. “I’m not coming yet.”

  The smaller brother started back down the slope. “Let’s leave her.”

  “But we’re supposed to be fetching her.”

  The smaller bear kept walking. “Let her stay out all night. So what if a brown bear eats her, or a white bear steals her?”

  The she-cub squeaked in alarm. “That won’t happen!”

/>   The bigger bear swapped a knowing look with his brother. “I suppose the spirits will look after you,” he told her casually. “But I’m not sure about the brown bear spirits or the white bear spirits. Once it’s dark, who knows what they will do to a tiny cub lost in the woods?”

  Lusa saw fear spark in the she-cub’s eyes. “But I have to find more spirits in the bark!”

  “Oh well.” Her brother turned to leave. “Good luck.”

  Lusa’s heart lurched. “You can’t abandon her!” Hurrying from her nest, she ran over to the she-cub. “You can look for bear spirits again in the morning,” she suggested. “I’ll help you if you want.”

  The cub blinked at her. “I want to find one before I go to sleep.”

  Lusa rubbed her chin on the top of the little bear’s head. “I once found a tree spirit when I woke up. I opened my eyes and there it was, in the bark right beside me.”

  “Really?” The cub opened her eyes wide.

  Lusa nudged her gently toward her bothers. “Sometimes it’s easier to find things after a good night’s sleep.”

  The cub let herself be steered away. “Perhaps our mother will let me sleep in a tree.”

  “Let’s hurry back so you can ask her.” One of the cub’s brothers nodded to Lusa. “Thanks.”

  As the young bears headed away, Ossi called from the nest. “Are you coming to sleep, Lusa?”

  “Yes.” She hopped down beside him. “Do you think Miki and Chula will get here tomorrow?”

  “Probably.” Ossi snuggled deeper into the leaves and closed his eyes.

  Lusa curled up beside him. Above them, Pokkoli’s snores were growing louder. Breathing the musty scent of earth and dried leaves, Lusa closed her eyes.

  Around her, the forest slipped away, leaving her on a wide plain, alone beneath a starry sky. Looking up, Lusa saw the dazzling outline of Ursa. She seemed to blaze brighter than the other stars, except for her son Ujurak. Lusa shivered. Star-Ujurak was staring straight at her. She felt it deep in her fur.

  “Ujurak?” Her voice sounded tiny. “What’s wrong?” Lusa raised her voice. “Tell me what to do!” She longed for Ujurak to spiral down from the sky and become a real bear again, warm and furry and close to her. But he remained still and distant in the crow-black sky.