Great Bear Lake (12 page)

“Where's this bridge?” Toklo called, glancing
over his shoulder to where Ujurak and Lusa were padding along side by side.

“I'm not sure,” Ujurak admitted. “Everything looks so different from up in the air.” He paused, then nodded toward a clump of pine trees several bearlengths downriver, on the opposite bank. “I think we'll see it once we've passed those.”

The rain had changed to a fine drizzle that misted like cobwebs on Toklo's pelt and trickled through to his skin, chilling him to his bones. “I wish I had wings,” he grunted.

His belly still churned from the pain of what Lusa had told him, but he wasn't going to let her see.

Why should I care what Oka said before she died? She sent me away when I needed her. Nothing will ever change that
.

The river seemed to wind on forever; the bank was covered with wiry grass that felt harsh underpaw, with never a sniff of proper prey.
What am I doing here?
Toklo grumbled to himself.
This isn't a good place for bears
.

They passed the trees that Ujurak had pointed out, but
there was still no sign of the bridge. “Are we ever going to get across?” Toklo muttered. “If we keep on like this for much longer, I'll have webbed paws.”

“Sorry.” Ujurak hunched his shoulders. “I guess it doesn't look so far when you're flying.”

The pine trees were out of sight behind them when Toklo's ears picked up a rumbling noise ahead. It grew louder and louder, until he spotted firebeasts roaring along a BlackPath in an unending stream. They belched out a foul-smelling smoke that caught in Toklo's throat and made him cough.

“There.” Ujurak nodded toward the firebeasts.

Lusa halted. “Wow! I didn't think there were so many firebeasts, ever!”

Toklo stopped beside her, limbs stiffening and every hair on his pelt prickling with alarm. Ujurak had said the BlackPath was huge where it crossed the river, but he had never imagined it could be this big.
It's not meant for bears….
Toklo pushed the thought away. They had to keep going; this was the only way they had of crossing.

When it reached the river, the BlackPath continued, stretching above their heads right across the water to the other side, supported by giant legs of the same shiny stuff the firebeasts were made from.

“We'll never get across there now.” Lusa's fur stood on end and her eyes were scrunched up against the fumes and dust. “We should wait here until night comes. Maybe most of the firebeasts will have gone back to their dens by then.”

“
I'm
not waiting here,” Toklo protested, his muscles
tightening at the thought of staying out in the open where flat-faces could spot them easily.

“Let's go farther down the bank,” Ujurak suggested. “We can hide there.”

With a grunt of agreement, Toklo went first, scrambling down the riverbank until they reached a clump of bushes not far from the first of the bridge supports. He hadn't realized how massive they were until he saw it close-up; he had to tilt his head all the way back to see the top. He trotted up and gave it a sniff, but it didn't have much scent of its own, only the harsh tang of firebeasts.

Every heartbeat that passed made Toklo more convinced that something was wrong. He wondered if the others felt the same; perhaps they were angry with him for refusing to swim. Gazing out across the greasy brown water, he thought of what Lusa had told him: that Oka loved him, and wished she hadn't sent him away. That didn't make him feel any better about swimming. How could his mother
not
want to drag him under and drown him if she was so desperate to see him again?

Under the bridge the noise of the firebeasts clanged in his ears until his head hurt and he couldn't even hear his own thoughts. Toklo retraced his pawprints to where Ujurak and Lusa were nosing among the bushes.

“It's not too bad here,” Ujurak said. “We can rest while we wait for nightfall.”

“Hey, come over here!” Lusa called. “There are masses of berries.”

Toklo turned to spot a flash of red among the tangling
branches. Padding closer, he saw Lusa standing beside a bush heavy with bright scarlet berries. She was reaching up to a branch, her jaws parted to bite down on the succulent fruit.

“No!” Toklo roared. “Stop!” Belly clenched with terror, he bounded over to her and roughly shouldered her away.

“Okay,” Lusa said, scrabbling to get her balance and shooting him an aggrieved glare. “You can eat first if you want.”

Toklo glared back at her. “No one gets to eat them. Those berries are deadly to bears,” he growled. “Don't you know that? If you eat them you'll get horrible pains in your belly, and then you'll die.”

Lusa began to back away, her annoyance changing to fear that made her eyes as big as moons. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't know.”

“Of course you didn't,” Toklo huffed, turning his back.
She'll never be a proper bear!
He shoved his way through the branches of the nearest bush and settled down close to the trunk with his nose resting on his paws.

In spite of the firebeast thunder, he dozed and dreamed of walking through his own territory in the forest, leaving his clawmarks on trees to mark his borders. Everywhere he walked belonged to him alone; there were no other bears relying on him to protect them and to find food. Full-fed, he lazed in a clearing with the sun warming his pelt. He could hear the gurgling of a river where he knew he could catch a plump salmon, and see the spot on the ground where a grouse had made her twiggy nest and filled it with eggs. Under a nearby tree was his den, where he could sleep, held safely by the earth.

He tried to enjoy the feeling of warmth and safety, but something was nagging at him. It niggled him with more and more urgency until he sprang to his paws. “Where are you?” he called to his dream-forest. “What do you want?”

He took off, charging through the trees, barking as he searched more and more desperately. He didn't even know what he was looking for.

“Toklo? Is it time to go on?”

Lusa's voice startled him; he realized he must have been barking out loud. He opened his eyes, and the sunlit forest slipped out of his mind. As Lusa scrambled out of their makeshift den, the branches shifted blackly against deep shadows, and Toklo saw that the long daylight had faded. The rumble of firebeasts crossing the bridge had eased, like the far-off rumble of a fading storm. Cautiously he stuck his head out of the bushes. The rain had stopped, though water still welled up around his paws when he trod on the sodden grass.

Lusa and Ujurak were waiting for him by the edge of the river; the water was thick and black now, and Toklo pushed down a bolt of terror that tried to choke him.
I'm not going near it,
he reminded himself.
Oka won't be able to grab me
.

Ujurak was letting out huffs of anxiety. “Toklo, we have to go!”

“Okay.” Toklo scrambled back up the bank and to the edge of the BlackPath. The dazzling eyes of the firebeasts sliced through the dusk; a line of the huge creatures was still roaring across the bridge.

“I thought you said the firebeasts would have gone back to
their dens?” Ujurak said, blinking in the glare.

Lusa twitched her ears. “It's quieter than it was.”

“We'll be okay if we keep to the edge,” Toklo told them. “Come on. Follow me.”

Keeping a cautious eye on the firebeasts as they approached, then roared away in both directions, he padded onto the bridge. Lusa pushed Ujurak into place behind Toklo and brought up the rear. Beside the BlackPath was a shiny wall, like thin silver saplings joined together. Through the gaps between the uprights Toklo could see the river below, foaming white as it churned around the supports of the bridge. It was a long way to fall; even though the uprights were too close together for a bear to slip through, Toklo felt dizzy when he looked down. After that first glance he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the BlackPath.

The ground at the edge of the BlackPath was filthy with greasy puddles and flat-face trash. The cubs splashed along; Toklo was blinded by the glaring eyes of the firebeasts that bore down on him, and flinched at the showers of filthy water their round black paws sprayed over him as they passed. Their wind buffeted his fur and made the air taste of grit and their choking fumes.

They had almost reached the halfway point when Toklo heard a deeper roar than before. A vast firebeast was heading right for him, its bulk blocking out the night sky. His gaze locked with its glaring eye-beams; he couldn't look away. He crouched down, trembling, convinced that the massive creature would charge straight over him, leaving his broken body
behind. Lusa and Ujurak huddled beside him.

Then it was gone; Toklo glanced up to see two pairs of eyes gleaming as Lusa and Ujurak gazed at him, horrified. The red eyes in the vast firebeast's hindquarters were receding rapidly.

Toklo took a deep breath, trying to stop his heart pounding its way out of his chest. “Come on,” he urged. “It didn't hurt us.”

Lusa had overtaken Ujurak, who stood still, gazing down at the surging river through the gaps in the shiny wall. “Ujurak!” she urged. “We can't stay here. It's too dangerous.”

When he was sure the smaller cub was following, Toklo set off again, hearing the pawsteps of his companions splashing behind. The firebeasts ruffled his fur and filled his nostrils with their stink. Toklo could see the flat-faces inside staring out at him and his companions.
Haven't you ever seen a bear before?

One of the firebeasts slowed to a crawl, and a bright flash came from inside its belly. Toklo saw one of the flat-faces inside holding up a small black creature with a single huge eye. He bared his teeth and snarled; the bright flash came again, but the creature didn't dare leap out to attack him, and at once the firebeast roared away.

Scared, huh?

He felt as if he had been wading through trash and dirty puddles forever, but at last the far bank was only a few bearlengths away. The shiny wall came to an end; the bank beyond, covered with bushes, sloped steeply down to the water's edge.
Toklo scrambled off the bridge, digging his claws into earth and roots to keep his balance as he climbed a bearlength down. Lusa followed him and turned back to wait for Ujurak.

As the small cub drew closer to the end of the bridge, another huge firebeast came roaring up behind him, its glaring eye-beams spilling over him.

“Look out!” Toklo barked.

Ujurak broke into a run, but his legs couldn't carry him faster than the firebeast's huge black paws, hissing nearer and nearer. The corner of the firebeast clipped his flank, tossing him up into the air. Ujurak let out a squeal. He hurtled onto the bank, his paws flailing, and slid downward until the branches of a bush brought him crashing to a halt.

“Ujurak!” Lusa cried, flinging herself down the slope to Ujurak's side.

For a few heartbeats Toklo stood frozen, gazing at the unmoving brown shape. He was thinking of another small cub who would never move again. Would they have to listen to Ujurak's breath growing slower and slower until it stopped? Would they have to cover him with leaves and moss, like Tobi? He remembered Oka's howls when she discovered that the cub she loved best was dead.

Panic slammed into Toklo's chest.
I can't remember the marks Oka made in the earth! I can't remember the words she said!
He wanted to howl like his mother, blaming the spirits for taking Ujurak away. He didn't dare follow Lusa down. While he waited here, he could try to tell himself that Ujurak would be okay. Guilt and anger churned inside him. He was the strong one; he
should have protected Ujurak.

They should have swum across the river.

“Toklo!” Lusa called, looking up from where she crouched over Ujurak. “Come here!”

Toklo forced his paws to move, and scrambled clumsily down the slope to where Ujurak lay scrunched up. “Is he dead?”

“Don't be such a squirrel-brain.” Lusa rested her paw on Ujurak's flank, drawing Toklo's attention to the faint rise and fall of his chest. “See? He's still breathing.”

For a moment Toklo couldn't speak. He raised his head to stare out over the churning black water. He thought it looked hungry, swollen with the spirits of dead bears.
But you won't have another spirit tonight
.

Lusa bent over Ujurak again, swiping her tongue over his nose and around his muzzle. “Wake up, Ujurak. Please wake up,” she begged.

Ujurak's eyes stayed closed. Toklo couldn't see any sign of injury on his body, except for a few scrapes on his fur, which probably came from roots and branches as he fell. He dug his claws hard into the ground. Ujurak had to wake soon, or he'd slip into death just as Tobi had. Leaning forward, Toklo sniffed Ujurak's fur. He didn't have the same sharp scent that had signaled Tobi's approaching death. Perhaps he would be all right after all. Dizzy with thankfulness, he closed his eyes, only opening them again when Lusa exclaimed, “He's waking up!”

Ujurak's chest heaved and his eyes flickered open.