The Quest Begins (12 page)

Oka grunted. Lusa stopped immediately. It wasn't quite a “hello,” but it didn't sound like “go away,” either. She sidled closer.

“Hi, Oka,” she said. “How are you feeling today?”

Oka blinked and grunted again.

“The Bear Bowl isn't so bad, is it?” Lusa tried. “I know Grumps is kind of…grumpy…but the bears on this side of the Fence are nice, I promise. That biggest one over there, drinking from the water dish, is my father, King. My mother, Ashia, is inside the Caves, napping. And that lazy lump of fur on the closest rock is my friend Yogi. You might like him—he's funny when he's not annoying.”

Oka's ears twitched. Lusa hoped that meant she was listening. She sat down and ran her claws through the dirt.

“King came from the wild, too, like you,” she went on. “He wouldn't tell me about the mountain, though. Mother said there's one you can see from outside the Bear Bowl. Is that where you came from?”

“There are many mountains,” Oka murmured. Lusa perked up her ears. “I came through many, many mountains…. They caught me on one shaped like a bear's snout, with snow at the top…cold snow, freezing my paws…Poor Toklo.”

“What else did you see?” Lusa prompted.

“There was a river,” the brown bear said, gazing up at the sky. “A long journey…I followed it until I found a dry riverbed to walk along. Journey…journey…three lakes at the edge of a dead forest.”

“A dead forest?” Lusa echoed with a shiver. “Why was it dead? Who killed it?”

“The fire from the sky,” Oka whispered, as if talking to herself. “The fire that roars like a bear when it rains.”

“I know that fire!” Lusa cried. “I've seen it in the clouds! It's
so loud, my ears hurt for days afterward. I didn't know it could come down from the sky!”

“It can,” Oka said, “and when it touches a tree, it can spread fire through a whole forest.”

Lusa stared at her in alarm. “But what about the spirits in the trees? The dead bears?”

“Dead bears?” Oka roared. “What do you know about dead bears? Why are you asking me all these questions? Leave me alone!” She jumped to her paws and galloped away to the far side of the clearing.

Lusa leaped back. “I'm sorry!” she called after Oka. “I didn't mean to bother you!”

“
Shhh
, little cub,” Ashia said, coming up behind her. “It's not your fault. That bear has problems you can't help with.”

That didn't make Lusa feel any better. She felt sorry for Oka, and she wanted to find a way to help her, if she could.

That night she had strange dreams of racing through an ice-cold river, watching silver fish leap and splash in the water around her. Above her head birds screeched in the sky and fire flashed in the clouds. The wind rushed through her fur and the trees around her called out to be climbed, using the voices of black bears from long ago.

She woke while it was still dark, feeling restless and hot. The den seemed more cramped than usual, the walls pressing in around her. Even when she was outside, Lusa wished for more space to run, so she could really stretch her paws. She wanted new trees to climb, with different bark and unfamiliar branches that would challenge her. She wanted to eat
something new and catch her own prey.

She climbed onto one of the boulders and sat down, looking up at the fading night sky. It didn't feel right to call this rock a Mountain anymore, not after the stories she'd heard about real mountains. She searched the sky until she found the Bear Watcher. It shone brightly and steadily, and she wondered if it watched her as closely as it watched wild bears.

“I know what you're thinking,” a deep voice said from behind her. Lusa scrambled around, slipping on the rock, until she faced her father. King was sitting on his haunches, looking up at the Bear Watcher, too.

“You do?” Lusa said. “You mean you feel it, too?”

King growled. “A little restlessness is natural when leaftime starts,” he said. “But I see the way you pace and sniff the air. That brown bear is filling your head with strange ideas.”

“No, she isn't,” Lusa insisted. “She's just telling me about the wild.”

“You don't need to know about that,” King said. He stood up and turned to walk away, but he paused and looked back for a moment. “I want you to leave that bear alone,” he rumbled.

“But—” Lusa started.

“Don't argue with me, Lusa,” he growled.

He padded over to one of the trees and began to scratch his back against the bark. Lusa watched mutinously, her fur prickling. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't she listen to Oka's stories?

The dark bulk of her mother emerged from the den behind them. Lusa could tell from the look on Ashia's face that she
had heard their conversation.

“He's right, little cub,” Ashia said, pressing her muzzle into Lusa's side. She licked Lusa's nose and nuzzled her. “You should stay away from that bear.”

“Why?” Lusa asked, climbing onto her mother's lap and burying her face in her fur.

“Because she's not well,” Ashia said. “When a mother loses her cubs, sometimes her heart gets sick and she doesn't know what she's saying.”

Her cubs!
Lusa thought with a jolt.
That must be who Tobi and Toklo are!
But Oka had spoken as if Toklo were still alive. Lusa wondered how she had lost him.

“You see how dangerous it is in the wild,” Ashia went on. “There's no future for bears out there. We are much better off in here, where we are safe and well fed. There's nothing to attack us or hurt us, and food comes every day, no matter what. The flat-faces take care of us.” She nudged Lusa's muzzle with her own. “I'm glad I didn't have to try and feed you on my own out in the wild, like that poor grizzly did.” Ashia shook herself, fluffing out her fur and tumbling Lusa onto the ground.

“Do as your father says, little cub,” she said affectionately. “You'll be happier if you stop listening to these stories and stop thinking so much about the wild.”

She turned and went back into the den. Lusa watched her go, then looked up at the Bear Watcher again. How could she stop thinking about the wild? Especially when the air was so full of the smell of wild things growing? She padded over to
the tallest tree and launched herself up the trunk, scrambling up as high as she dared to go. Then she stretched out her muzzle toward the Bear Watcher star.

“I know you can hear me,” she whispered. “I know you understand, even if Mother and Father don't. If there's any way…anything you can do…just so I can see what the wild is like and decide for myself. Please, I have to know.” She blinked, and the star seemed to blink back at her.

Toklo's stomach was growling. He hadn't
eaten in days, except for a few scraps of moss he'd been able to claw off tree roots. He'd tried to hunt for salmon in the river several times, but usually he saw no signs of fish at all—and the ones he did see moved too fast for him to catch.

Melting snow was mixing with the dirt, creating an icy mud that clung to his paws and made traveling slow and wet. The river rushed by, bubbling over large black rocks with a constant roaring, gurgling noise that was beginning to sound, to Toklo, not that different from the BlackPath.

He caught the scent of prey and lifted his nose in the air, taking a deep breath. It was coming from the trees above the river, at the top of a steep embankment.

He scrambled up the icy rocks, digging his claws into the stone and slipping on the slick surface. Sharp edges pressed into the pads of his paws and snagged on his fur as he dragged himself over the last ledge and climbed to his paws under the
trees. Pine needles lay thickly underpaw, giving off a strong evergreen scent that mingled with the smell of the prey. He put his nose to the ground, sniffing, and tracked it to a spot where four trees grew close together, their trunks almost touching and their branches overlapping. The earth below them was still covered in hard, densely packed snow where the trees blocked the sunshine from reaching it.

Toklo crouched and crept closer. The scent didn't move; whatever it was didn't know he was coming. When he could smell it right below his nose, he pounced, striking hard and fast at the snow. He dove into it with his forepaws, digging ferociously, throwing back snow and loose earth with his claws. When his paws reached something that was neither earth nor snow, his mouth began to water. Toklo brushed away the snow to reveal two squirrels, a stoat, and a couple of animals he had never seen before. They looked like they had been killed only recently, and the delicious smell of fresh meat wafted up to him.

Toklo turned over the stoat with his paw and saw clawmarks on its underbelly. He sniffed deeper and realized that under the smell of the prey there was the muskier scent of another bear. That bear must have buried this prey here, saving it for later. Toklo's fur burned with jealousy. It wasn't fair that this other bear had so much that he could bury meals like this.

His mother must have taught him how to hunt properly,
Toklo thought.

He glanced around, pricking his ears and sniffing the air.
There was no sign of the other bear. Whoever had buried this would be furious if some of the catch went missing…. Toklo remembered his mother telling him never to steal prey.

Why should I care what she thinks anymore? She doesn't care about me! And she's not here to tell me what to do.

He crouched and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of a squirrel. He could feel his strength returning with every mouthful, and his thoughts of Oka melted away like the snow.

After he had eaten as much as he could, Toklo covered the rest of the kill pile with earth and snow. He tried to pat it down so it looked undisturbed, although he was worried that his scent would still be on it. Quickly he searched through the tangled undergrowth until he found some strong-smelling leaves and spread them over the hiding place. Perhaps that would help to hide his scent, at least long enough for him to get out of the other bear's territory.

Feeling better after his meal, Toklo bounded into the woods. One day he would have a territory of his own, too. He just had to keep moving, find enough food to stay alive, and stay alert for other bears until he was old enough and big enough to fight for his own range somewhere.

He kept his ears pricked for the sounds of another bear as he climbed up through the trees, heading farther up the mountain. He deliberately avoided the wet patches of dirt so he wouldn't leave a trail of pawprints. There was enough frozen, packed snow still on the ground for him to walk on, and he found more and more of it as he went farther up through the trees.

The wind seemed to get colder as he traveled, buffeting his fur and making his eyes water. Toklo was scrambling up a slope littered with large rocks among the trees when he saw a large dark shape moving through the woods several bearlengths away. He froze in the shadow of one of the rocks.

It was an adult bear—and from the scent drifting on the wind toward him, it was the one he'd stolen the prey from. The strange bear's shoulders were broad and his fur was matted with mud. Toklo kept very still, knowing that any sudden movement might catch the bear's eye, and even the crackle of a twig beneath his paws could attract its attention. He was glad that the wind was blowing in his face instead of carrying his scent toward the bear.

Toklo crouched lower, hoping the rock would keep him hidden. The breeze dropped for a moment, and in the stillness a bird squawked loudly, as if it could see Toklo and was shouting, “He's over here! Come get him!”

Toklo's heart started to pound. He saw the other bear stand up on its hind legs and sniff the air.
Please don't smell me. Please keep going
. Toklo buried his face in his paws and waited for a heavy paw to clamp down on his shoulders.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes again. The bear was shambling down the mountain toward the river. Toklo hoped he wasn't heading for the hidden newkill, but just in case, he picked up the pace and began running through the trees.

Ahead of him he could see the shimmer of sunlight, and with a burst of speed, he shot out of the trees into a wide open
meadow. Suddenly he was surrounded by bright yellow warmth, and for a moment he had the confused feeling that he'd run right into the sun. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light. He was standing in a field of yellow flowers, the color both startling and comforting, like a pool of melted sunlight. In the distance, beyond the meadow, a mountain rose into the sky. Toklo stared at it. It looked like the head of a bear, its nose raised to the clouds, its mouth half open as if calling out to the sun, which was slowly setting behind it.

He lowered his muzzle to sniff one of the yellow flowers. The stem had no leaves on it, and the yellow flower was drooping off the top. Its smell was fresh and sharp, stronger and tastier than the dandelions his mother had made him eat by the BlackPath. An even more mouthwatering smell was coming from below the ground.

Toklo dug his front claws into the dirt and scraped away the earth around the base of the flower. The stem ran down under the ground to a round white bulb. Toklo scooped out the bulb with his paw and bent his head to eat it. It crunched satisfyingly between his teeth, and after a moment he felt a curious tingling sensation of heat in his mouth and throat. He dug up the flower next to it and ate that bulb, too.

Warm and full, he moved to the bank of snow on the edge of the tree line. Night was creeping across the meadow, dimming the brightness of the flowers, and stars were beginning to appear in the dark sky. Toklo dug a shallow den for himself in the snow, making a hollow he could curl up in with some protection from the wind on all sides. He crept inside and lay
down, looking up at the stars as they twinkled to life one by one.

The brightest star was up there, almost directly above him, and as the night got darker, it seemed to grow brighter, shining right down on him. He remembered his mother telling him about how it was the spirit of a bad bear, driven out by the other animals. As he watched the star, he knew how it felt. The star was alone—the loneliest star in the sky—just like he was. It didn't need any other stars to survive. It lived on its own in the endless sky, the same way he was wandering by himself across the endless mountains.

His eyes drifted shut, and in his muddled dreams he thought he could hear the star calling to him. “Toklo! Be strong like me,” it whispered. And then he dreamed that he was walking through dark purple clouds right into the sky, and when he looked down, his fur was shimmering silver, and he realized that he'd become the star. It was cold in the sky, and he could hear the voices of other animals whispering from far away, but he lifted his muzzle proudly toward the moon. Whatever he'd done to get here, he was alone and proud of it, and that was how he would stay.