The Quest Begins (6 page)

The sky was streaked with pink
and gold, and the shadows crept slowly through the forest like stalking bears. Night was falling, and under the trees Toklo rolled in the pine needles, pretending he was catching fish.

“Ha!” he growled, pouncing. “Got you!” He scrabbled in the snow and then leaped sideways, pinning down another pile of needles. “Got you, too!”

“Shh,”
Tobi whimpered. “My ears hurt.” He was still lying in the same spot where he'd dropped after they ran up the hill from the grain spill. Toklo wished he had a brother who would play with him. He'd seen other grizzly cubs wrestling with one another. That would help him learn how to fight, and it would be fun. But Tobi was always too tired, or something hurt, or Oka wanted him to rest.

Leaves and dirt flew up as their mother dug a den for them in the snowbank. It was shallow but it helped keep them warm when they curled up together. Toklo thought his
mother seemed calmer now that she'd made the decision to go over the mountain. He was glad. He didn't like it when she roared at him and Tobi and tore up grass.

“We're going to sleep early tonight,” she told them. “We'll need a lot of rest for our long trek tomorrow.”

Tobi shuddered, pressing himself into her fur, but Toklo batted at her paws.

“Will you teach me how to catch salmon?” he pestered.

“Well, it's not the way you were playing at it today, that's for certain,” she snorted. “All that jumping and yowling. They'd hear you coming the moment you set paw in the river.”

“Then what
should
I do?”

“You start by wading out into the shallows,” she said. “Stand with your back to the current. You'll see the salmon slithering past your paws. If you are still for a moment, they'll come right to you. And then, if you're quick”—she cuffed Toklo with one of her paws, but he could tell she wasn't trying to hurt him—“then maybe you'll catch one.”

“I will!” Toklo declared. “I'll have the fastest paws in the river. I'll catch more salmon than any other bear!”
More than Tobi, that's for sure!

“Well, that depends on the water spirits,” Oka said. “They won't want to hear you bragging, especially if you don't treat them with respect.”

“Are we going to meet the water spirits?” Tobi whispered with big eyes. They'd both heard this story from Oka many times—how the spirits of dead bears lived in the rivers, flowing endlessly with the salmon that had fed them in life. But
they had never seen water big enough or fast enough to hold spirits in it.

“That's not how it works, little one,” Oka said to Tobi. Toklo hated the way her voice got all gentle and mushy whenever she spoke to his brother. “The spirits are always there, and they may speak with you or they may not. But you don't exactly meet them.”

“I remember!” Toklo said. “You have to say thank you to them so they will help you.”

“Yes,” Oka said. “If they are angry, they'll make choppy waves in the water so it's hard to catch any fish. But if they are friendly…if they like you…they will guide the salmon right to your paws.”

“How do you—” Toklo began.

“That's enough questions for tonight,” Oka said. She touched her nose to Tobi's pelt, sniffing his fur. His eyes were already closed and he was breathing shallowly. Toklo knew she wanted him to stop talking so Tobi could sleep. But even that didn't dampen his mood. Tomorrow they were going over the mountain!

 

Up ahead, through the shadows of the trees, Toklo could see sunlight glittering on ice. They had been traveling since dawn, climbing up through the forest toward the mountain peak. Now he could see the bare, rocky slope of the mountain where the trees thinned out and the only bits of greenery were scrubby bushes and patches of moss.

He glanced back at Oka and Tobi, shuffling through the
forest behind him. Oka stopped now and then to nose at the ground and push something edible over to Tobi. Toklo had nibbled some clover before they set out, but he was too excited to eat now. Impatiently he galloped ahead toward the sunshine and burst out into a wide, sunlit meadow. It was not far from here to the rocks—and then they'd be on the mountain!

His mother and brother caught up to him, and Oka lifted herself onto her hind legs, too, sniffing the air. “Quick, let's keep moving,” she said, dropping down to all fours again.

They trotted through the meadow at a steadier pace. Even Tobi kept up, staying close to Oka's paws and only stumbling a couple of times. Soon Toklo felt hard rock below his paws instead of dirt and grass. They scrambled up a short ledge and found themselves facing a landscape of snow and boulders reaching up into the sky.

The snow was deeper than Toklo expected, and of course Tobi immediately fell into a large drift. Whimpering, he floundered around with his paws until Oka came and dragged him back onto more solid ground. Toklo didn't want the others to know, but he was having some trouble with the icy rocks, too. His claws couldn't get a good grip on the slippery frozen ground, and he found himself sliding and skidding instead of leaping gracefully from boulder to boulder as he wanted to.

But it didn't matter. He was thrilled to be climbing, to be out in the sun, to be away from the firebeasts and snakebeasts and their noise and terrible smells. Up here the wind brushed
through his fur, bringing the scent of prey and snow and other bears from far in the distance. The sunbeams were warm on his back, and his muscles felt like they were moving and stretching in new ways as he learned how to climb…traveling like a true bear for the first time.

He spotted a stick poking out of a large patch of snow and, with a happy growl, he dove on it, clamped his jaws around it, and shook it hard.

“Rarrgmph!”
he roared, his voice muffled by his mouthful of stick. “Mmm, I've caugmht a sagmlmon!”

“Oh, really?” his mother said, swinging her head around to look at him. “Well, you'd better hang on to it, then, because I hear that fish”—she began to stalk toward him—“can be…very…slippery!” Suddenly pouncing, she grabbed the stick from his paws and galloped away.

“Hey!” Toklo yelped. He leaped after her, landing on her back and knocking her sideways. They rolled in the snow, each of them scrabbling for the salmon stick. Toklo's joy expanded until it filled him from the top of his ears to the tips of his claws. His mother hardly ever stopped to play with him. He loved the feel of her fur tickling his nose and the strength of her paws batting him around. He knew she was holding back so she wouldn't hurt him, and that made him feel protected and safe.

“Aha!” he shouted triumphantly, wrestling the stick away from her. “It's mine! I win!”

“I don't think so,” she growled, chasing after him.

“Mother!” Tobi bleated from the rock where he was
cowering. “Mother, I feel sick.”

Oka skidded to a halt, kicking up snow that spattered over Toklo's back. She rushed back to Tobi and sniffed him all over. Grumpily flicking snow out of his ears, Toklo followed. He was sure Tobi was just trying to get attention. When
didn't
Tobi feel sick? Couldn't he just sit for a little while and let Toklo have some fun?

“We have to keep moving,” Oka said. She sounded different now, tense and scared and angry. “We have to get over the mountain before it gets dark. Come on.”

She nudged Tobi to his paws and hovered over him like a shadow as he struggled over the rocks and ice. Toklo realized that Tobi smelled strange. A sharp, rotten scent hung around his fur, and his eyes looked cloudy and confused. Toklo took one more sniff and stayed his distance.

“I can't,” Tobi whimpered, collapsing onto his belly. He covered his nose with twitching forepaws.

“You can do it, Tobi,” Oka murmured. Her voice was gentle now, just like it always was with Tobi. “Just a bit farther. Come on, stand up and take a pawstep. One after another, and you'll get there. A journey is nothing but a river of pawsteps. You can take one pawstep, can't you?”

“Noooooooooooo,” he moaned.

Toklo sighed. This wasn't going to get them anywhere. His ears perked up. If they were staying put for a while anyway…He ran over, grabbed the stick in his teeth, and ran back to his mother.

“Uh-oh!” he cried. “It's getting away from me!” He threw
his head back and flung the stick into the air. It clattered to the ground at his mother's paws.

“Not now, Toklo,” Oka snapped. “We've wasted too much time already. We must get down the mountain to the river before nightfall.” She grunted crossly. “We shouldn't have stopped to play.”

Toklo felt his fur stand on end with frustration. Now his mother was angry at him. Yet again, Tobi had ruined his fun.

“Sweetpaws,” Oka murmured to Tobi. “Little cub, be brave for me. Just climb onto my back and I'll carry you the rest of the way.”

“A-all right,” Tobi agreed weakly. He pushed himself up and then climbed onto Oka's back, lying there as limp as a dead leaf.

Toklo snorted. He wondered whether he'd be given a ride if he moaned all the time. He didn't think so. After all, he wasn't precious Tobi. Oka set off at a brisk pace and Toklo struggled along behind her, trying not to hear the concerned murmurs his mother kept whispering to her sickly cub.

Climbing didn't seem so much fun anymore. The wind was no longer full of warm, exciting smells; instead it was cold, and it seemed to bring darkness and whirls of snow. The sun was dropping toward the edge of the sky, and the shadows were getting longer and longer, reaching out for Toklo like creeping water spirits. His paws were aching and cold, and his claws stung from being scraped against rocks all day. Even the strong muscles of his shoulders were in pain, but still his mother pressed on, leaping over patches of ice and sharp
stones that Toklo was too small to avoid.

The sun had nearly vanished all the way when Toklo stopped, exhausted.

“Mother,” he called. Oka, halfway up the slope ahead of him, turned and looked back but kept moving. “Mother,” he called again, “when are we going to stop?”

“We can't stop,” came the reply, bouncing off the rocks all the way down to the bottom of the mountain.

Ever?
Toklo thought, with a twinge of fear. They couldn't go on like this all night. His head was spinning, and he was afraid that in the dark he'd stumble and fall off the mountain…and that his mother wouldn't even notice.
As long as she has Tobi, she doesn't care about me,
he thought bitterly.

He took a deep breath and shoved himself up the slope, using every last bit of energy he had to get up to where his mother was. The snow was very deep and he almost had to swim through patches of it, but he pressed on, unable to feel his paws anymore because they were so cold. Finally he caught up to his mother, scrambled around in front of her, and stood in her way.

“Toklo,” she growled. “I told you we don't have time to play.”

“I don't want to play!” Toklo protested. “I want to rest! We've been climbing all day!”

“It's not far enough,” Oka said. “We need to reach the river.”

“But I don't think I can go any farther,” Toklo said.

“If your brother can do it, so can you,” Oka said firmly.

“If—” Toklo stammered in disbelief. “You've been carrying Tobi since sunhigh! He's not doing anything except lying there!” Toklo reared up on his back legs and held his front paws out to his mother. One of the pads behind his claws was bleeding, and there were scrapes and cuts all over them.

Oka sniffed his paws, then looked up at the sky. For the first time she seemed to notice that night was falling, and stars were twinkling up above them. She reached around and nudged Tobi with her nose.

“Cold,” he whimpered, burying his face in her fur.

“All right,” Oka relented. “Let's make a den for the night.”

Relief washed over Toklo. He looked around and spotted a hollow under an overhanging rock.

“How about over there?” he said.

Oka grunted agreement and led the way to the sheltered spot. Tobi slid slowly off her back onto a pile of moss near the base of the rock. He curled up and immediately closed his eyes. Oka crouched beside him, licking his ears.

Toklo sat down, exhausted. His paws felt like cold rocks at the end of his legs. He glanced up at the sky, where one star shone brighter than all the others.

“I wouldn't mind being that star right now,” he said to his mother. “I bet it never gets tired.”

Oka looked up at it, too. “You don't want to be that star,” she said. “That is the spirit of a bad bear. The other animals imprisoned it there for doing something terrible, and now they move in a circle around it, taunting it. It's trapped, not free like us.”

I don't feel that free,
Toklo thought, watching Tobi gasp for breath.

“What did the bear do that was so terrible?” Toklo asked.

“He disobeyed his mother,” Oka said, cuffing him over the head with her paw. “Now go find us some branches.”

She dug the dirt and snow around Tobi into a makeshift den while Toklo nosed around for any branches that would help protect them. He didn't find much, but he did find a few mouthfuls of dry berries. He brought them back to his mother and brother, even though his stomach was growling like an enormous adult bear. Oka took the berries without thanking him and rolled them all over to Tobi. But when they curled up together and Toklo rested his chin in the soft fur on her shoulder, she sighed and did not roll away.

 

Grim, pale light was glimmering through the branches and snow when Toklo awoke. He blinked his eyes several times, wondering why he felt so strange and cold. It wasn't just the uncomfortable ground below him. Something was wrong.

Toklo shifted around and discovered that his brother was curled against his back, his paws tucked into his chest. When Toklo moved, Tobi pressed his paws to his face, scraped them down his muzzle once, and then lay still. His breathing came shallow and quick and smelled funny.