Great Bear Lake (17 page)

“What should I do when I get there?” Toklo asked the old bear.

“Feel the strength and pride of Arcturus, young bear,” Shesh told him. “Rake your claws down a tree. Catch some prey. Defend your territory. For the Longest Day, Pawprint Island belongs to you. Then return to us after the sun has touched the horizon.”

Toklo gulped. The old bear's obvious concern for him made
him suspect that this was going to be even harder than he had thought.

“You should rest for a while and build up your strength, so you're ready,” Shesh said.

A she-bear padded up with a small fish in her jaws, and laid it on the pebbles beside him. “May the spirits go with you,” she murmured.

“Er, thank you,” Toklo said, feeling very embarrassed. “Uh…do you want some?” he offered to Shesh and Ujurak.

Ujurak shook his head.

“That is yours,” Shesh explained. “You deserve it for the task you have undertaken. If you succeed, then every bear will have all the fish they can eat.”

That didn't stop Toklo from feeling guilty as he lay down and ate it up. It didn't fill his belly but it was good to eat something that wasn't leaves or berries. His eyes felt heavy with sleep. But when he closed them, the words of the she-bear echoed in his ears:
May the spirits go with you
. Didn't she know it was the spirits he was afraid of? Waiting just below the surface, waiting to pull him down, his fur as heavy as stones, until water rushed into his nose and mouth and his breath was sucked away…

Opening his eyes again, he let his nose rest on his paws and stared out at the lake, watching the water turn pale gray, then pink as the sun slowly dipped behind the forest.

Shesh appeared beside him, his paws crunching on the stones. “It is time,” he said gently.

Toklo rose to his paws. With Ujurak at his side, he padded
the few paces that took him to the very edge of the lake. The island looked impossibly far away, almost hidden by white-tipped waves with birds bobbing on them.

I can't do this
.

He glanced back and nearly yelped with surprise. The whole gathering of brown bears had come down to the shore and was watching him. There were more bears than he could count: huge adults, groups of young cubs, scrawny bears, old bears, bears sitting and bears standing on their back legs. Toklo's own legs felt wobbly, but Shesh was calm and approving as if he trusted Toklo to do this, while the ancient Oogrook's eyes were filled with hope. Only Shoteka, standing off to one side, looked scornful.

Ujurak pushed his muzzle into the fur on Toklo's shoulder. “Look at the lake,” he whispered. “It's a good sign.”

Toklo turned toward the lake again. In the evening sun it had turned bright pink, the color of salmon.

“You'll be okay, I promise,” Ujurak said. “You
can
swim, just remember that.”

“Thanks,” Toklo replied.

Ujurak bounded up the beach to stand beside Shesh. Toklo knew there was no going back now; he had taken the challenge and what happened next was in the paws of the spirits. The spirits waiting to drag him under…

Oka? Tobi? Do you really want to see me again?

Slowly, he padded forward, the lake water lapping cold and soft over his feet. Behind him, he could hear the other bears murmuring excitedly.

“The salmon will return to us.”

“The cub is brave.”

“Arcturus! Honor this cub by bringing us prey.”

They wouldn't honor him when he didn't come back, and they stayed hungry. But at least he wouldn't be here to see their disappointment. Maybe this had been meant to happen all along; he had brought Ujurak and Lusa safely to the lake, and other bears would journey with them now.

The water crept cold up his legs as he waded farther from the shore. He could feel bear spirits tugging at his paws already, pulling him into the water, and thought he could hear the voices of his mother and Tobi.
Come to us,
they whispered.
Come into the water….

For a heartbeat he froze, fighting the impulse to gallop back to shore.

Why did I agree to this? It's all Shoteka's fault. I hope a tree falls on his head. I hope he's attacked by a firebeast.

He took another step and felt the water lifting him off his paws. Water filled his nose and splashed over his eyes. He stretched his muzzle up to breathe and kicked off from the pebbly bottom.

Slowly, Toklo began dragging himself through the water, closer to Pawprint Island.

The sun was setting as Kallik
ran down the slope to join the other bears. Her body felt light as goose feathers and she couldn't feel the cuts on her paws.

She had reached the Longest Day Gathering!
Maybe Taqqiq will be here!

She passed bears sitting in groups, their heads together as if they were talking. Others padded up and down the edge of the lake, or stood with their forepaws in the water, dipping their muzzles to drink.

“…shot by a flat-face,” she heard as she passed the first group. “And her cubs left with no mother to care for them.”

A pang of pity clawed Kallik's heart as she pictured that unknown bear and her cubs. She knew how the cubs must have felt, left alone to look after themselves.

“The ice is melting sooner every suncircle,” another bear put in. “We're here to call it back, but will the ice spirits hear us? That's what I'd like to know.”

The bears were crowded more closely together as Kallik
approached the lake. She began looking around, hoping to spot Taqqiq, but every bear she saw was a stranger. Some of them raised their muzzles to sniff her, or swung their heads to follow her with a suspicious gaze as she padded past.

She drew near to a larger group of females and their cubs; memory stabbed her heart like a splinter of ice when she spotted two cubs wrestling together. She and Taqqiq had played just like that.

“I'm an orca, and I'm going to eat you,” one of the cubs squealed, pouncing on her brother.

“Oh yeah? Well, I'm a walrus, and I'm going to eat
you
!”

The two cubs rolled over and over until they bumped into one of the she-bears, who swiveled around to glare at them. “That's enough!”

“Sorry, Mother.” Both cubs sat looking at their paws until the she-bear gave them each a gentle cuff on their shoulders. Then they scampered off again, chasing each other in a circle.

“Has any bear seen Nanuk?” the she-bear asked another bear standing close by. “I expected her to be here by now.”

Kallik's ears pricked.
Does she mean
my
Nanuk?

“No, Qanniq,” the bear replied. Her fur was thin and patchy and her body shrunken with age, but there was wisdom in her pale eyes. “You know that Nanuk prefers to travel alone, ever since she lost her cubs last burn-sky.”

Yes!
Kallik padded up to the she-bear who'd spoken first. “Do you know Nanuk? A bear with a flattish muzzle and tiny ears?”

The bears turned and stared at her.

“Yes, I know her,” Qanniq replied. “Why? Have you seen her?”

Kallik shook her head. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “Nanuk is dead.”

“No!” exclaimed a younger she-bear who had padded up to listen.

The oldest bear's eyes were filled with sorrow. “I grieve to hear that. May her spirit travel safely to the sky.”

Qanniq asked, “How do you know? Were you with her?”

Kallik nodded.

“What happened?” the younger bear asked.

“I was captured by flat-faces,” Kallik explained, feeling a little awkward to be the center of so much attention. She wasn't used to talking this much, and her throat hurt as if she'd been eating prickers. “They…they put me in a cage, and that's when I met Nanuk. The flat-faces made us go to sleep with pointy sticks. But that wasn't what killed her,” she added quickly, as the mother bear began to growl deep in her throat. “When we woke up, we were both in a net, carried way up in the sky by a huge metal bird.”

“Carried in the sky?” the younger she-bear scoffed. “I think you ate a bit of bad fish and had a nightmare.”

“I did not!” Kallik retorted indignantly. “It was real. Later on I saw another metal bird putting a she-bear and her cubs down.”

“It's true, Imiq.” The oldest bear gave Kallik an approving nod. “The same thing happened to me, many suncircles ago.
The flat-faces carried me in a flying firebeast and took me back to the ice. Go on, young one.”

“That's what Nanuk said! That the flat-faces were taking us to the place where the ice comes first. But then a storm came, and the metal bird fell out of the sky. We landed in deep snow…and when I woke up, Nanuk was dead.” Kallik's voice shook.

“Flat-faces!” The younger female, Imiq, spat out the words. “Even when they try to help, they bring trouble.”

“They do their best,” the oldest bear said gently. “Bears make mistakes, too.”

“I can't believe we'll never see Nanuk again,” the mother bear murmured. “She wasn't always easy to get along with, but she had a kind heart.”

“And she was a good mother to her cubs,” the oldest bear added. “She went without food to feed them, but they still died of hunger.”

“
I
heard that when they were dead she ate them,” Imiq said, an edge of spite in her voice.

Kallik whirled to face her. “Nanuk would
never
have done that. She loved her cubs. She was still sad about them when I knew her.”

Imiq looked taken aback. “I'm only saying what I heard,” she muttered.

“You shouldn't spread wicked rumors like that,” Kallik told her.

The oldest she-bear put a comforting paw on Kallik's shoulder. “Steady, young one,” she murmured. “Imiq never thinks
before she speaks. Few bears will believe that tale. Most of us will grieve for Nanuk and honor her memory.”

“I miss her so much,” Kallik said, looking down at her paws. “She told me about the place of endless ice, where the spirits dance in the sky. She said it was a real place, not just a story. I wish we could have gone there together.”

A respectful silence fell, in which Kallik could hear the soft lapping of waves on the lakeshore and the distant voices of other bears.

“I know of that place, too,” the mother bear said at last.

Kallik pricked her ears. “Have you ever been there?” she asked hopefully.

Qanniq shook her head.

“I have,” the older bear said. “Once, many burn-skies ago, when I was young. It is true that the spirits dance there. I have seen them.”

Kallik stared at her. “What are they like?” she breathed.

“Tell us, Siqiniq,” the mother bear urged.

“They're very beautiful,” Siqiniq replied. “Their faces and legs and arched backs fill the sky with light. They're the only color in that place of snow and ice. I've heard they dance here, too,” she added to Kallik's surprise. “But we can't see them because the sky is too bright, and there is no true night.”

Kallik tipped her head back to look at the sky. It was still light, streaked with glowing pink. She wondered if there were spirits hovering above her now, hidden from her.
Mother, if you're there,
she begged silently,
show me where I can find Taqqiq
.

“Spirits!” A loud voice from behind interrupted Kallik's
thoughts. Startled, she saw a group of young male bears charge past, jostling one another and sending the two young cubs scampering back to their mother's side. “There's no such thing as spirits in the sky,” one of them jeered.

Siqiniq faced him calmly. “Maybe you think that now. But when you are older, you will be wiser.”

The young male looked unsettled for a moment; then his eyes hardened. “Old fool,” he snarled, and dashed on after his companions.

“They have no respect for any bear,” Imiq huffed. “How dare he tell us he doesn't believe in the spirits of the ice?”

“Half-grown males,” Qanniq growled. “What do you expect?”

“They're getting worse,” Imiq pointed out. “Chasing and fighting and making noise when other bears are trying to get a bit of sleep. And I saw with my own eyes one of them stealing a fish from old Anarteq.”

“They do that all the time,” Qanniq put in, gathering her cubs closer to her. “They'll steal from any bear who's too weak to fight back.”

Siqiniq sighed. “I remember a time when there was enough food for every bear, and there was no need to steal. It was a time when every bear knew that their ancestors were looking down on them.”

“Well, talking catches no fish,” Qanniq said, rising to her paws and prodding her cubs, who were huddled together at her side. “Come on, you two. There's not much fish in the lake, but we'll see what we can find.”

She led the way down to the edge of the water. That was the signal for the group to break up, some following the mother bear, others padding off along the shore. Siqiniq settled down for a nap on the stones, folding her scrawny haunches underneath her.

“Thank you for telling me about the ice,” Kallik said, dipping her head politely.

“Thank you for telling us about Nanuk,” the older bear responded. “It is hard to lose a friend and not know why.”

Kallik felt encouraged by the warmth in her voice. “Please, can you tell me more about this Gathering?” she prompted. “I know we're here to call back the ice, but I've no idea how we do that. My…my mother never told me.”

Siqiniq shifted around to find a more comfortable position. “The Longest Day begins at sunrise,” she began. “Every bear will gather on the lakeshore to tell the sun its reign is ending. And we call to the bear spirits to bring back the dark so that we can see them shining in the sky.”

“And the ice will come back?”

Siqiniq nodded. “Every suncircle, the ice comes back. The other bears are here, too,” she added, twitching her ears. “But they welcome the sun at the peak of its journey, while we send it away.”

“What other bears?” Kallik asked, puzzled.

“The brown bears and the black bears.” Siqiniq pointed with her muzzle. “They meet on the other side of the lake.”

Kallik stared at her, digging her claws into the rough shingle.
How can bears be brown and black?
She would have told any
other bear that their brain was full of feathers if they told her there were different-colored bears, but her respect for Siqiniq was too great to argue. She gazed across the lake to the other side, a skylength away. The sky reflected in the water, turning it pink. Straining her eyes, Kallik thought she could make out movement over there, but it was too far to see if there really were bears with black and brown pelts.
I wonder if I'll get to see them?

“I've got so much to learn,” she murmured, half to herself.

“Where's your mother, young one?” Siqiniq prompted. “Hasn't she taught you these things?”

“My mother is dead.”

Siqiniq bowed her head. “I'm sorry. Did she die when the firebeast fell from the sky?”

“No,” Kallik replied, her belly churning as she remembered the terrible day she lost her mother. “Orca took her.”

“Orca,” Siqiniq echoed with a sigh. “They have taken many good bears. One of my cubs died like that.” She closed her eyes and let her muzzle rest on her paws. “Many suncircles ago, but I will never forget….” Her voice died away.

Kallik realized the old bear had drifted into sleep.
I never asked her if she'd seen Taqqiq,
she thought, annoyed with herself.

Maybe later
.

She wandered along the shore, watching tiny waves rippling over the pebbles. Several bears were standing in the shallows, their eyes fixed intently on the water. As Kallik watched, one of them plunged his snout into the water and pulled it out again with a fish wriggling in his jaws.

Hunger griped in her belly; perhaps she could catch a fish, too. She waded a few pawsteps into the water, enjoying the cool sensation on her sore pads. She stared down; the water was clear, giving her a good view of the pebbly bottom, but at first she couldn't see any movement. Wind ruffled her fur, ridging the surface of the water.
Spirits, please send me a fish,
she begged.

Just at the edge of her sight, she glimpsed a flicker of silver. Thrusting off with her hindpaws, she pounced, but when her forepaws landed her claws gripped nothing but pebbles. Water splashed up around her, soaking her legs and belly fur.

“Watch out,” an older male bear growled from a few bearlengths away. “You'll scare away what fish there are, bouncing about like that.”

“Sorry,” Kallik muttered.

She bent her head and concentrated once more on the lake bottom. It seemed a very long time before she saw the next faint movement in the water. She forced her paws to stay still as the fish swam along the bottom with little flicks of its tail. It was coming closer; Kallik held her breath, then lashed out with one paw, pinning her prey down. Then she plunged her muzzle into the lake and sank her teeth into the fish just behind the gills.

Triumph flooded over her as she straightened up, the fish in her jaws.
I caught one!

But before she could turn to go back to shore, a bear crashed into her side, pushing her over. Water frothed around her, blinding her as paws pummeled her flank. The fish was wrenched out of her jaws.