The Quest Begins (8 page)

Kallik dove into the water and paddled hard. The waves picked her up and drove her forward, then sucked her back. They were stronger than anything, even her mother's paws, and she couldn't control where she was going at all.

“Spirits of the white bears!” she called, gasping as water poured into her mouth and nose. “If you haven't melted into the sky yet—if any of you are left in the water—please help me before you go.” Large floating pieces of ice pounded her on every side as she swam closer and closer to the rocky shore. She was nearly there when a wave seized her and smashed her into a large rock. A jolt of pain shot through her; she scrambled with her claws, trying to grip on to the rock, but the surf
dragged her back into the open water again, shoving her under. Salty water surged over her muzzle, and she struggled desperately forward, scraping her claws on the rock as she wrapped all four paws around it.

I can't die now!
she thought.
Taqqiq might be waiting for me on land—he might be only bearlengths away.

It took all the strength she had to haul herself onto the top of the boulder, but finally she heaved herself free of the sea and stood, panting for breath, on the flat, hard rock. From there she could jump to the next rock, and then clamber over smaller ones until at last she stood onshore, her paws sinking into a pebbly brown surface that she guessed was the dirt her mother had told her about.

She shook the water out of her fur and breathed in deeply.

She'd made it. She was finally on land.

Snow had fallen overnight, leaving the
ground soggy and cold as it squelched between Lusa's claws. Dirt clung to her fur whenever she rolled around playing with Yogi, and as they raced to get to their food, they left long streaks of churned-up mud behind them.

Lusa shook herself, trying to get some of the mud out of her fur. She trotted over to her mother, who was lying limply under the tallest tree. Ashia had been eating less and less for days, and she was starting to look thin. Lusa buried her nose in her mother's fur, which was no longer glossy and sleek but patchy.

“Mother?” Lusa whispered. “Are you all right?”

“I remember a pool of water,” Ashia said, blinking. “Where is it? It was right there…and there were other bears…a cub named Ben, I think….”

“What do you mean?” Lusa asked, scared. “There's no pool here. What cub? Mother, what's wrong?”

92

“She's thinking of the first zoo she lived in,” Stella said, coming up beside Lusa.

“But why?” Lusa asked. “Doesn't she like it here anymore?”

Ashia pressed her paws to her muzzle, staring up at Lusa. “Who are you?” she asked. “You look like me. Where are the others?”

“I'm your cub. Don't you remember?” Lusa pleaded.

“She's just confused,” Stella said. “Maybe she's tired. We should let her sleep.”

“Don't you want to come into the den?” Lusa asked her mother. Night was falling, and Lusa knew it would be much warmer inside the stone walls. She patted her mother's paws with her own. “It's time to sleep. Let's go inside.”

Ashia covered her face with her paws and mumbled something, rolling away from Lusa.

“It looks like she wants to sleep out here tonight,” Stella said, heading back to the den. “Let's give her some peace.”

“What's wrong with her?” Lusa asked.

“I'm sure she'll be fine,” Stella said. “If she were sick, the flat-faces would take her away and make her better.”

“Really?” Lusa perked up. “They can do that?”

“Unless they take her away and don't bring her back,” Stella mused. “Then I'm not sure what happens.”

Lusa shuffled her paws on the floor. “Has that happened to other bears?”

“Once in the time I've been here,” Stella said. “But that bear was very sick, and we all thought his spirit was ready to go into the trees.”

“Stop this nonsense,” said a deep voice behind her. Lusa dropped to all fours and turned to face her father. King was looking at Stella sternly.

“There's nothing to make such a big fuss about,” King growled.

“But what about Mother?” Lusa asked. “Will the flat-faces make her better?”

King shrugged, his fur rippling across his shoulders. “Who knows what the flat-faces will do? I don't even know why they keep us here, let alone why they fix us when we're sick. It's no use trying to figure it out. Let's wait and see.” He scratched his ear and lumbered away.

Stella nudged Lusa gently with her nose. “Don't worry, Lusa. Your mother is a strong bear. Maybe she just feels like sleeping in the open tonight—the way your father does.”

Lusa glanced over at King. Even he wasn't sleeping on the cold, muddy ground. He'd found a flattish boulder and was settling down on top of it, his paws hanging down on either side.

“I hope she gets better soon,” Lusa said.

“Spirits of the bears,” Stella murmured, gazing into the sky. “Make Ashia feel her normal self by morning.” She nudged Lusa again. “Come on, let's go to sleep.”

Lusa fidgeted all night, worrying about her mother and feeling the emptiness of the den without Ashia's bulk to lean against. As soon as light started to creep across the Bowl, she scrambled to her paws, shook herself, and trotted out of the den. Ashia was still lying in the same position. It looked as if she hadn't moved since the day before.

Lusa didn't know what to do. Nothing like this had happened in the Bowl in her lifetime. Why did bears get sick? How would Ashia get better? Her mother was like the boulders of the Mountains—always there, always the same. If she changed, it would be like the earth vanishing from under Lusa's paws.

Perhaps she'd feel better if she ate something. Lusa gathered some of the fruit the feeders had left for them and brought it over to her mother. “Mother?” she said, dropping the ripe berries beside her mother's muzzle.

“Lusa,” Ashia whispered, pressing her paws to her belly. Relief flooded through Lusa as she saw that at least her mother recognized her. Maybe she was feeling better than last night.

“Mother, are you all right?” Lusa asked. She nosed the berries closer to Ashia. “I brought you some food.”

Ashia made a groaning sound and turned her face into the dirt. Mud and snow were caked through her fur, but she made no move to shake them off. She didn't even lift her head to sniff the fruit Lusa had brought. Lusa heard a rumbling sound from her mother's belly. This wasn't better. This might even be worse.

Some of the feeders were leaning over the wall. Lusa scrambled over to them and stood on her hind legs, trying to get their attention. Couldn't they see that her mother was sick?

One of them chuckled a little and threw a piece of fruit to Lusa. Frustrated, the cub sat down again. Flat-faces never understood what you really wanted. She batted at the fruit, then abandoned it to go back and sniff her mother. Maybe if
she tried harder…Lusa ran back to the edge of the Bowl, stood up to look at the feeders, and then ran back to her mother. She did this a few more times, clacking her teeth to show she was frightened.

The flat-faces pointed at her, and then at Ashia. They spoke in quiet, serious murmurs like the rustle of leaves in the trees. Finally a few of them came through the door in the wall and went over to Ashia, making gentle sounds and walking around her carefully.

A tall flat-face that Lusa had never seen before came into the Bear Bowl. Unlike the others, he had some bushy gray fur on his face. Two round shiny things were perched on his nose, and his removable pelt was green. He was carrying a long black-and-brown stick cradled under his arm. Lusa didn't like the way it smelled…like the Fence but darker and more smoky.

The other feeders brought in big poles and a roll of webbed stuff that turned into Fence when they unrolled it. They set up the poles around Ashia and put the new, smaller Fence around her. Lusa didn't realize what they were doing until they stepped away and it was too late. Now she couldn't get close to her mother. Ashia was alone inside the new Fence.

Lusa tried to claw at the Fence to join her mother, but one of the feeders came over and shooed her away. What were they doing? Why wouldn't they let her be with her mother? Lusa backed away, then scrambled up the tree, pushing herself quickly higher with her hind paws. From the branch above her mother, she could see right inside the small Fence. She saw
the tall flat-face walk in and point the long metal thing at her mother.

There was a sharp popping sound, and something shot out of the black stick into her mother. Ashia grunted once, and then slowly her eyes closed.

Horrified, Lusa cried, “Mother! Mother!”

But Ashia didn't respond.

“Mother!” Lusa screamed.

She tried to climb back down, but now something loud and roaring was coming into the Bowl, and it scared her back up the tree again. It coughed smoke and swaggered so loudly that all the other bears scattered to the far corners of the Bowl, staying as far away as possible. Lusa guessed that this was one of the firebeasts she'd heard King talk about. She'd seen them from the top of the tree sometimes, charging around the paths outside the Bowl, but she'd never been close enough to smell the scent of metal and burning before.

The feeders gathered around Ashia and rolled her onto a large flat skin the color of the sky but shiny like water. Each of them picked up a corner and lifted the large, limp bear. They hoisted her onto a flat thing with round black paws, and then they hooked that to the firebeast.

With a great roar, the firebeast lurched away through the big doors at the back of the Bear Bowl. Lusa rushed down the tree as the doors were closing. “Mother!” she howled. The doors slammed in her face, and she stood up on her hind legs, clawing at the wall. “Mother! Don't go! Wait, please don't take her!”

Pebbles of frozen ice caught in
Toklo's claws as he dug through the snow, searching for something to eat. The sun glowed red in the sky as it crept slowly down below the trees, and an ice-cold wind raced up the mountain, slicing through his fur and making him shiver.

Oka had not moved for the rest of the day, nor had she spoken. She lay beside Tobi, unmoving, as the day passed and night crept on again. Toklo could see they would be staying here again tonight, even though his belly was howling in protest. The salmon couldn't be too far away now. Surely they were less than a day's travel from food that would finally fill him up.

What if his mother never moved again? Did Oka want him to stay here until his spirit grew so hungry it joined Tobi's in the water? He wished she would see that having one living bear cub was better than having two dead ones. It was also better than having one alive and one half dead. Now they
could travel faster and take care of each other better.

His claws snagged on something soft, and he brushed away the snow to uncover a pile of moss. It was damp and soggy and crumbled in his paws, but he swallowed it down anyway. He scooped up some of it and brought it back to his mother where she lay under their rough shelter.

“I brought you some moss,” he whispered, laying it close to her muzzle. Oka didn't open her eyes. The small shape of Toklo's brother lay curled between her paws, limp and still. Toklo lay down behind his mother and crept slowly nearer, dragging himself along on his belly until his fur was touching her curved back. She didn't move, so he rested his muzzle on his paws and closed his eyes, falling into an uneasy sleep.

The sudden movement of Oka's body behind him startled Toklo awake. He scrambled to his paws, noticing that the sun was starting to rise and the sky was streaked with gray clouds.

Oka stood for a moment, her head bent to sniff Tobi once more. “It's time to go,” she said.

Relief spread through Toklo. He didn't have to die along with his brother after all. “To the river?” he asked.

“But first there is an earth ritual to attend to,” Oka said, as if she hadn't heard him. She turned and saw the moss that Toklo had brought the night before.

“Yes,” she murmured. “That is what we need.” Gently she took the moss in her jaws and laid it down on Tobi's fur. Then she swung her head up and stepped out of the den, her pawsteps measured and heavy. Toklo padded after her, confused but afraid to speak in case she snapped at him.

Oka nosed through the snow, digging loose bits of earth and twigs. She clawed a pile of dead leaves together, carried them back into the den, and laid those on top of Tobi as well.

Toklo didn't know what she was doing, but he hoped that if he helped her, they could leave sooner. Copying her, he gathered dirt and branches and dragged them back to the den, where he helped her cover his brother's body until it could not be seen anymore.

Oka lifted her head and spoke, her deep growl echoing off the back of the den wall. “Spirits of the earth, I commit this innocent cub, whom we called Tobi, to your care. Take him back into the warmth of your fur and protect him. Guide his paws through the rocks and the soil to the water that lives deep within you, and let him join his fellow bear spirits in the river that flows eternally.”

She paused, and Toklo wondered if he was supposed to say something. Oka scratched her claws through the dirt one way and then the other, leaving a crisscross of marks next to her cub's body. Still without speaking, she turned and walked away, out of the den onto the open slope of the mountain.

Toklo hesitated for a moment. It didn't seem right to be leaving Tobi behind. Toklo pressed his nose into the mound of dirt and leaves and branches. “Tobi,” he whispered. “We're going to the river now. I know you need to get there, too, so follow me, all right? I'll take you to the river.”

Toklo stepped back and shook his head, brushing off the leaves that were stuck to his fur. Then he hurried after his mother, who was setting a brisk pace down the mountain. She
didn't speak to him, and he stayed silent, frightened by the tension in her shoulders and the faraway look in her eyes.

It was nearly sunhigh when Toklo noticed something at the edge of his hearing. It was a fast, rushing, happy sound, full of bubbles and life, like rain rushing across the valley. “Is that the river?” he blurted. “Are we nearly there? Are we going to catch salmon now? I can't wait! I'm going to catch so many salmon, Mother, watch and see!”

They had left the snow behind them and were coming down through thick pine trees and clearings dotted with wildflowers. In front of them he could see the river glittering in the pale sunlight—a wide, shallow rush of water with pebbly shores on either side. He galloped ahead, nearly losing his balance on the expanse of pine needles that covered the steep hill.

And suddenly Toklo saw bears.

Bears were wading in the river, staring into the water. Bears were rolling on their backs in the water, splashing with their paws. Bears were pacing along the banks and running through the shallows, their fur sodden and spiky.

Toklo had never seen so many bears in one place. They all looked so big! Most of them were larger than Oka, and they were all much, much larger than him. He slowed down at the edge of the trees and waited for his mother to catch up. Together they stepped into the sunshine, moving out of the cool shadows under the pines onto the long, pebbly riverbank. Toklo didn't like the way the other bears looked at him. They looked…
hungry
. One bear, an enormous adult male, stood up
on his hind legs in the water to stare at Oka and Toklo as they approached the riverbank. His claws were long and sharp, and he had the largest hump on his shoulders that Toklo had ever seen. His fur was dark from the water and his muzzle was wet, as if he'd been diving for fish. He stared at Toklo with small, brown, unfriendly eyes.

As they got closer, the bear dropped to its paws and loped over, standing between them and the river and blocking their path. Oka stopped, and Toklo ducked behind her front leg, trying not to make eye contact with the large grizzly.

“Step aside,” Oka said firmly.

“What's your name, pretty?” the bear growled.

“None of your business,” she snapped.

“I'm Shoteka,” he announced.

“We don't care,” Oka snarled. “Now get out of our way. This isn't your territory—it's fair game for every bear. There's enough fish in the river for all of us.”

Shoteka's eyes shifted to Toklo. “It's not the fish I'm interested in,” he said. “Your cub is too old to still be traveling with you.”

“No, I'm not!” Toklo squeaked indignantly. He knew most cubs stayed with their mothers for at least two fishleaps. However much he wanted to be on his own and make his own decisions, he knew he wouldn't be able to look after himself for a long time yet.

The male grizzly lifted his chin and looked challengingly at Oka. “When is he going to find his own territory?”

“We're just here for the fish,” Oka said. “So step aside.”

“There are no fish in this river,” Shoteka rumbled.

Oka snorted. “There have always been fish in this river! You're not going to drive us off with lies like that.”

She strode forward boldly and the other bear fell back, scraping his paws on the pebbles with a show of reluctance. Toklo trotted after her, staying close to her hind paws.

Just as they passed him, Shoteka lunged toward Toklo. His teeth were bared, and Toklo felt a blast of hot, rotten breath over his fur. Toklo froze.

Suddenly Oka was there, rearing up on her hind legs and roaring. She slashed at the male grizzly with her claws as Toklo ducked behind her. Shoteka stumbled back, then turned tail and ran, splashing away into the river. A few of the other bears snorted at one another. Toklo heard one of them say something about getting between a mother and her cubs, and he felt a warm swell of pride and relief. His mother was so strong! No one would mess with them now. It comforted him to know she would stick up for him, even though he wasn't Tobi.

Oka led the way upriver, moving as far away from Shoteka as possible. Toklo followed her into the shallows and gasped as the icy water tugged at his fur. It was much stronger than the streams in the valley. This water had power; he could almost believe that ancient bear spirits raced along in it. Smooth round stones shifted under his paws, and he felt the silt of the river mud drifting up like mist as he waded through it.

Toklo spun in a circle and splashed over to his mother, eager to start fishing. He could see a bear farther downriver
with a large fish in its jaws, flapping and shining in the light. Other bears were closing in on it, as if wondering whether the catch was worth fighting for.

But Oka was not fishing. He could see from the looseness of her shoulders and the stillness in her paws that she was not waiting for something to swim by. Instead, she was staring into the water, talking in a soft voice. Toklo stopped splashing and listened.

“Be careful, little cub,” Oka whispered. “You have a long journey ahead of you.” Her head dropped lower until her nose almost touched the water. “Look after him, water spirits, I beg you. He is so little and tired, and he's not used to being on his own.”

She was talking about Tobi. Of course.

Toklo sighed impatiently. He was sure the water spirits knew perfectly well that Tobi was small and weak. Why else would he have died? If he'd been bigger and stronger, he'd still be alive, like Toklo was.

Shadows danced below the ripples as Toklo gazed into the water. He searched for any sign of the bear spirits in the river, but all he could see was the vague outline of his reflection and the shapes of pebbles in the riverbed. He'd expected to see the faces of bears, or a flash of fur, or a hint of claws racing along the muddy bottom. But there was nothing here but water.

“I can't see Tobi, Mother,” Toklo said. He wondered if his little brother had figured out how to follow him down the mountain. It would be awful if Tobi were stuck up in the barren rocks all alone. “Do you think he's here yet? Maybe he's
still finding his way.”

Oka rounded on him with a snarl. “What do you know about death?” she growled. “You don't know anything.”

Toklo backed away. How was he supposed to know anything if she didn't teach him? Of course he didn't know much about death. Tobi was the only bear he knew who'd ever died. And Oka had spent so much of their lives fussing over Tobi that she'd hardly told Toklo anything.

Toklo stomped over to a spot between two large rocks where the water flowed into a pool a little deeper than the rest of the river, reaching halfway up his legs. If his mother wanted to stand around talking to the river, that was fine. He'd learn to fish on his own. He looked around until he spotted a golden-furred female bear who was properly fishing. She was crouched in the water, keeping still and watching. Suddenly she leaped forward and dove into the water with her front paws. She must have missed what she was jumping for, because she pounced a few more times, chasing the fish around in a circle and sending up a spray of sparkling water drops. Finally she emerged, dripping wet, with a small salmon in her jaws. She looked nervously at the other bears and then sat down with her back to them, the water foaming around her fur, eating quickly as if she wanted to finish before they noticed her catch.

Toklo's mouth watered. Surely he could do that, too. He could be patient, and fast, and determined…couldn't he? He turned around in the water a few times, looking for a good place to stand. He set his back to the current and left his legs
planted wide apart, so the river could flow between them.

He waited for what felt like a very long time. His vision started to get blurry from staring at the water for so long. He kept expecting to see the dark shape of a fish swim between his paws, but there was nothing but the shimmer of sunlight on the ripples.

Something dark moved just out of his reach. Toklo pounced, landing on his belly with a big splash as his paws closed around a mossy stick.

He had barely a moment to feel disappointed. As soon as he lifted his paws off the stones, the current seized him and began dragging him downriver. He let out a startled yelp as the river swept him past his mother and a few other bears, but Oka didn't look up from her conversation with the river, and the other bears just seemed curious or amused. Flailing his paws, Toklo saw the huge grizzly who had attacked him earlier waiting on a rock downstream. Shoteka had planted himself right in the path of the current and was watching as Toklo was swept closer and closer.

“Mother!” Toklo yelped. “Help me!” He tried to stretch down and dig his claws into the pebbles, but the water swamped over his muzzle. He scrambled up to the surface, choking for breath, just as he crashed into the tree-trunk legs of the male grizzly. Immediately two massive paws seized his shoulders and shoved his head below the water.

Toklo held his breath and lashed out with his paws, trying to claw at Shoteka's legs or kick his way free. His hind legs hit the bottom of the river, and he shoved himself to the surface
again, sucking in a quick breath before the grizzly forced him under once more. Water flooded up Toklo's nose and surged into his mouth and ears. He tried biting and scratching the paws that held him down, but he could feel his strength starting to fade and his movements getting weaker.

The murmurs of the river seemed louder underwater, crashing in his ears like the spirits shouting at him.

All at once the weight disappeared from his back. Toklo bobbed up to the surface, gasping for air. His paws scraped the stones on the bottom of the river and he was able to pull himself into the shallows, where he collapsed onto his belly. He looked up and saw his mother driving Shoteka out of the water. She growled and charged at the male bear, her claws reaching for him and her mouth wide open. Shoteka roared angrily and scampered up the bank, disappearing into the trees.