The Quest Begins (21 page)

A cool night breeze ruffled Toklo's
fur, and he looked up at the lonely star, framed by the cliffs rising on either side of him. He wondered if it was laughing at him—tough, independent Toklo burdened with a salmon-headed companion like Ujurak.

The small cub had led the way out of the valley at a brisk pace, trotting on all day as if he knew exactly where he was going, even though he'd told Toklo he didn't. Now it was nearly moonhigh, and Ujurak was still scrambling along the ravine that led to the next valley. Toklo slipped on a stretch of loose pebbles and they clattered noisily down the slope. Irritated by his own clumsiness—and by the fact that he seemed to be following Ujurak instead of the other way around—he stopped and shook himself.

“What's wrong?” Ujurak asked, trotting back to join him. He ran in a circle around Toklo, his tongue lolling out as if he wanted to play. Toklo hunched his shoulders. He didn't know this cub well enough to play with him, and he was still confused
by the shape-changing stories. What if he really was a smooth-pelt? Toklo didn't want to be rolling around with a grizzly only to find a slippery smooth-pelt in his paws.

“Where are you going?” he grumbled. “I think we should head up the mountain farther before we get to the next valley. There's better hunting up the mountains and fewer flat-faces than there are in the valleys.”

“Sure,” Ujurak said. “I've been following that star, but we can keep doing that by going straight up the mountain.”

He pointed his muzzle at the sky, and Toklo realized with an unpleasant jolt that the cub was talking about the lonely bear spirit star. “You're following that star?” he said. “Why that one?”

“I don't know,” Ujurak admitted. “It's just a feeling I get. Of all the stars, that's the one showing me which way to go.”

It unsettled Toklo that Ujurak was drawn to the same star he was. That was
his
star, and he didn't want to share it with another bear.

“Well, whatever we do,” he said grumpily, “we should rest for the night. It looks like there's a shelter over there, between those two boulders.”

“Good idea,” Ujurak said, twitching his ears. Toklo led the way over to the boulders. One was long and flat, with one end resting on the ground and the other leaning up against the second boulder, which was fat and round. The space underneath was just big enough for the cubs to squeeze in. Toklo noticed as he squirmed into the dark hollow that he took up more space than he used to, when he'd shared spots like this
with Tobi. He'd been getting bigger without noticing.

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
harrumph
ed 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. “Sounds 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.