Seekers #6: Spirits in the Stars (15 page)

I don’t have to follow them. I could make my own way back to the forest. I don’t even know if they’d want me around if I wasn’t strong. They expect me to get them out of trouble, and that’s all.
The bitter thought, sharp as his wounds, was followed by another.
I could leave right now.

Toklo let his mind wander back to the forest. For a moment he could almost hear the rustle of the trees, smell the prey lurking in the bushes, and feel the warmth of the sun on his back.

When did they ever ask me what
I
want?

Then he let out a long sigh. Whatever he might feel, he knew that his pathway led alongside Ujurak’s. Until he had fulfilled his quest, it was Toklo’s destiny to journey with him.

“I’d better get going,” he muttered, and he lumbered after his companions, following their pawprints in the snow.

Chapter Sixteen

Lusa

Lusa stumbled along beside Toklo and
Ujurak. Fear shook her like wind in the trees; she thought she could hear the thudding pawsteps of white bears in pursuit and feel their hot breath on her fur.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw that the long valley behind them was empty, but they still had to keep going, struggling up a hill whose crest never seemed to draw any nearer. Lusa’s legs hurt with the continual pumping up and down; she was gasping for breath, and her belly felt sore and empty.

What’s going to happen now?
she asked herself.
Did Aga’s ancestors warn her that
this
would happen—that the black bear who came to save them would bring with her a white bear who would steal a cub?

Her mind whirling, Lusa slogged on up the slope. At last Toklo and Ujurak reached the top, and they stood there waiting for her to catch up. But Lusa had scarcely set paw on the crest of the hill when the snow gave way beneath her. Legs flailing, she let out a frightened squeal as she slipped and fell.

“Lusa!” She heard Ujurak’s startled cry, then nothing but the rushing of wind.

The slope beyond the crest was much steeper. Lusa tumbled head over tail, cushioned by snow as she bounced, grabbing with her claws at the soft stuff, which gave way as she clutched at it. Finally she landed with a massive
floof
, and snow closed over her head.

Gasping and scrabbling, Lusa broke out into the open air. A furry white face hovered over her; she let out a squeak, thinking that Aga’s white bears had caught her.

Then she made out the concern in the bear’s eyes and recognized Kallik gazing down at her. Kissimi was clinging to the white bear’s shoulders.

“Lusa, are you okay?” she asked anxiously.

Lusa scrambled to her paws and shook clotted snow from her pelt. “I’m fine,” she gasped, warmed by her friend’s concern. “Just a bit shaken.”

Toklo and Ujurak hurried down, panting, in time to hear what she said.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck!” Toklo growled, butting his head against Lusa’s shoulder with rough affection. “When will you start watching where you put your paws?”

Lusa leaned into him for a moment, comforted by his strength. “I just came down the quick way,” she murmured.

Kallik’s gaze was fixed on Toklo, and Lusa realized that she was staring at the wounds Unalaq had given him in their fight. “You didn’t kill Unalaq, did you?” she asked nervously.

“No.” Toklo’s voice was scornful. “If I had, every white bear on this island would hunt us down. As it is, we just have to hope that that red bear doesn’t tell the others about the cub.”

At the mention of Kissimi, Kallik’s expression changed from concern to defiance. “I have to take care of him. Kissimi is mine now!” she asserted.

Irritation swept over Lusa. “No, he’s not, Kallik!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough? You know that Kissimi belongs to Aga’s bears.”

Lusa couldn’t believe how stubborn Kallik was being about the cub. Kissimi was looking more feeble than ever, his head lolling and his eyes barely open. Pity churned in Lusa’s belly, along with her conviction that the tiny bear didn’t belong with them.

“You should give him back,” she said.

Kallik drew her lips back in a snarl, looming threateningly over Lusa, and Lusa gasped with shock and recoiled a pace.

Would she really fight with me over Kissimi? Doesn’t it matter that we’ve been friends for so long?

To Lusa’s relief Ujurak thrust himself between her and Kallik, and Kallik stepped back with a frustrated growl.

“It’s too late to give him back,” Ujurak said. “We have to keep going before the white bears find us. Our journey isn’t over.”

Lusa stared at him. “It’s not?” she challenged him. “But we moved the seals! Aga’s prophecy came true!”

Ujurak faced her, determination in his eyes. “Yes, that was something we had to do. But it’s not the only thing. There’s something more waiting for us; I can feel it.”

“Yeah, and I know what,” Toklo grumbled. “A load of white bears ready to shred our fur off.”

Ujurak dismissed his friend’s comment with a flick of his ears. “We must walk until it’s too dark to see,” he told them. “Then we’ll look for shelter.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lusa muttered rebelliously.

If Ujurak heard her, he didn’t reply. He set off, away from the hill and farther inland, into a part of the island where they had never been before. Toklo and Kallik followed, and Lusa, with an exasperated snort, brought up the rear.

The land was flatter here, with little shelter from the tooth-sharp wind that blew snow into their faces. As the short day drew to an end, they began to look for somewhere to shelter, but there was nothing, not even a thornbush or an outcrop of rock to break up the snowy waste.

“We’ll have to dig out a den,” Toklo said as he began scooping away the snow with powerful claws. “If we sleep in the open, we’ll be ice bears by morning.”

Lusa and the others helped, scraping at the snow until they had made a hollow big enough for them all to curl up together. By the time they had finished, Kissimi had started to whimper with hunger.

“I’ll find you something soon,” Kallik promised, staring helplessly around at the empty landscape. “Try to sleep for now.”

But the little cub only went on whimpering.

Lusa dug down where she thought the snow was thinnest, until she came to a patch of tough, springy stems and leaves. Taking a mouthful, she chewed it into a pulp and set it down on the snow in front of Kissimi.

“Try that, little one,” she said.

Kissimi sniffed the pulp suspiciously, then licked it up and looked around for more.

“Thank you,” Kallik said as Lusa prepared another mouthful.

Lusa spat out the pulp. “Well, I’m not going to watch him starve, am I?” she asked crisply.

Pity for the little cub filled her and overflowed like rain in a curled leaf, but she couldn’t show it. She didn’t want Kallik to think that she approved of the way she was keeping Kissimi away from his kin.

When Kissimi had finished eating and huddled against Kallik’s side to sleep, Lusa dug out some more of the plants for herself.

“Well, I can’t eat leaves and stalks,” Toklo growled. “I’m off to find a hare.”

Lusa felt too cold and tired to go with him. She watched him lumber away until his shape melted into the shadows. Kallik had settled to sleep in the den, curving her body protectively around Kissimi, while Ujurak sat on the edge of the hollow, the wind buffeting his fur as he stared up at the sky.

Lusa followed his gaze; the dark expanse was dotted with faint stars, but there was no sign of the dancing spirits.

Where has the fire gone?
she asked herself, feeling a tightness in her belly.

“Is that where we’re going now?” she asked Ujurak. “To find the sky spirits?”

“I don’t know.” Ujurak didn’t move his gaze from the star-studded darkness above his head. “I can still feel something tugging me, deep inside my fur, so I know that our journey isn’t over yet. Moving the seals wasn’t enough.”

He let out a sigh and was quiet for several moments. Then he turned to Lusa, his gaze deep and serious.

“Thank you for coming this far with me, Lusa,” he said. “I know you’re a long way from home.”

Lusa was startled. “Well, so are you,” she replied.

Ujurak raised his head to gaze once more at the stars. “Somehow I don’t think I am,” he said softly.

Before Lusa could respond, a bulky shape loomed up out of the darkness, and Toklo dropped a skinny hare at her paws. “That was all I could find,” he announced with a huff of disgust.

“It’s great, Toklo.” Ujurak was obviously trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Toklo grumbled.

When they had pulled all the meat they could off the meager carcass, the bears huddled together in the den. Lusa wrapped her paws over her nose, breathing deeply, surrendering herself to sleep. But she felt as though she had hardly closed her eyes when she was roused by a thin wailing.

Lusa raised her head, blinking, to see that it was still night. Across the den Kissimi was writhing around; his tiny jaws parted as he let out a pain-filled mewling.

“Belly hurts,” he whimpered.

Kallik bent her head and gently nuzzled the little cub. “I should never have let him eat those plants,” she fretted.

A pang of guilt clawed at Lusa. Giving Kissimi the plants had been her idea. “I was only trying to help,” she murmured.

“It’s too late to worry about that,” Toklo muttered blearily. “Keep him quiet, can’t you? The noise will bring the white bears right to us.”

“Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t have him,” Lusa suggested, desperate to convince Kallik that she should give back the cub. “You can’t look after him properly.”

Immediately Kallik rounded on her; the gentleness she showed to Kissimi had vanished, replaced by a savage glare. “I
can
look after him!”

The tension between the two she-bears reached Kissimi, who began wailing even louder. With a huff of annoyance Kallik picked him up by the scruff and heaved herself out of the den, shuffling off into the darkness. The sound of Kissimi’s cries gradually faded.

At first Lusa had been afraid that Kallik was leaving, but she could scent that her friend was still close by.
She must believe that we don’t want her,
she thought sadly.
Or maybe
she
doesn’t want us anymore. Only Kissimi.

Toklo and Ujurak settled down to sleep again, but Lusa stayed awake under the dark sky, feeling miserable and lonely. She wasn’t comfortable in this desolate place, and fear of the white bears made her uneasy, her senses alert for any sign that they were sneaking up on their den.

Aga was grateful to me for moving the seals,
she thought,
but the other bears didn’t seem all that pleased with me. What will happen if they catch up with us?

Exhaustion plunged her into sleep at last; in her dreams she was walking through sunlit woods, with a stream splashing along beside her and the chattering of birds sounding in the trees. Lusa reveled in the warmth and the sensation of a full belly.

Happy and curious, she wandered among the trees until she heard the squeaking of bear cubs from just ahead, along with the deeper rumble of their mother’s voice.

Lusa quickened her pace, still following the stream, until she reached the edge of a clearing and peered out from the shelter of a clump of ferns. In front of her she saw a family of black bears, a mother and two cubs who were tumbling and chasing after beetles. It looked as if the mother was having just as much fun as the two half-grown cubs, growling and pretending to attack them, then rolling over with them on the grass in a tangle of limbs.

It would be so much fun to go play with them,
Lusa thought longingly, but caution kept her in hiding.

Then she found her gaze drawn to the bigger of the two cubs. She felt as if she knew him very well, and yet she was sure she had never seen him before. Puzzled, she gazed at him, watching him pouncing and play-fighting with his sister, until a voice seemed to speak deep inside her.

“Lusa, that is your father.”

Lusa stiffened. Her thoughts flew back to King in the Bear Bowl, the big black bear whose temper was so uncertain, who had harshly forbidden her to talk about the wild. Was it possible, she wondered, staring out into the clearing, that this carefree cub had grown up into King?

“Watch me!” he boasted, bounding over to a tree on the other side of the clearing. “I can climb faster than any bear!”

He raced up the tree, and as she watched him, Lusa remembered how her father had taught her to climb, back in the Bear Bowl. Balancing on a branch, the cub clawed up a pawful of fruit, and he scrambled back down to drop it in front of his mother and sister.

“There!” he said, swelling with pride as he watched them eat. “One day I’ll be the strongest bear in the whole forest!”

“Maybe you will,” his mother said, gently touching his head with her muzzle. “But there’s more than strength to being a good bear. Never forget that the spirits of your ancestors are watching you all the time from inside the trees.”

“I know.” King shot across the clearing and skidded to a halt in front of a tall birch tree. “Hey there, spirit!” he called out. “Can you see me? Watch me jump!”

His sister scampered after him and stood in front of a graceful willow tree that leaned over the stream, its twigs brushing the surface of the water.

“Look at me, spirit!” she called. “I can jump higher!”

“Can not!” King danced up to a fir tree, giving his sister a quick shove as he bounced past. “Come out, spirit!” he called. “Come play with us.”

“He can’t, silly.” The small she-cub ran past her brother and reared up, setting her paws on the tree trunk. “He’s stuck in there forever and ever!”

The mother bear strode across the clearing and gave each of the cubs a swift cuff over the ears. “Don’t be so disrespectful!” she scolded. “How will you feel when you have a tree of your own, if little cubs come up and tease you?”