Great Bear Lake (16 page)

Toklo's belly rumbled. “I'm hungry,” he
told Ujurak. “I'm going to catch a fish.”

“Fine. I want to talk to more bears,” Ujurak said.

Toklo lowered his head and touched Ujurak's snout with his own. “Suit yourself,” he muttered. “Just be careful, okay?”

Ujurak bounded off along the water's edge. “I will! See you later!”

Toklo watched him go, splashing water over the other bears with his thundering pawsteps. Toklo snorted with amusement as older bears jumped out of the way and glared after Ujurak. Then the bear cub vanished in a sea of brown bodies, and Toklo was truly on his own.

“So we're all here for the Longest Day,” he murmured, glancing around at the brown bears. “I hope they haven't caught all the fish in the lake yet.”

He padded down to the water's edge, weaving his way among strange bears. They all seemed to know one another either as friends or longtime enemies. Toklo felt uncomfortable,
squashed, his ears full of grumbles and huffs as the bears squabbled for a patch of ground to call their own.

“Watch out!” he snarled as a small cub bundled into him. Then he spotted a she-bear lumbering toward them; she gave the cub a gentle cuff around the head.

“Come away!” she scolded. “What have I told you about going too near bears you don't know?” She locked her gaze with Toklo's, as if daring him to challenge her; Toklo gave her an awkward nod and padded on.

A few bearlengths from the lake, he spotted a large male grizzly gnawing on a fish. Hunger clawed in his belly. He couldn't remember how many sunrises had passed since he last tasted salmon. Now that he didn't have to worry about Ujurak and Lusa, he could keep all his prey for himself, but the thought didn't feel as good as he had expected. He glanced across at the forest and hoped Lusa had made it safely to the trees. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.

Stop being so salmon-brained!
he huffed to himself.
Since when do brown bears and black bears live together?

Toklo turned back to the lake and walked straight into a massive grizzly who was lumbering out of the water.

The adult bear loomed over him. “Watch where you're going,” he growled.

Toklo ducked his head. “Sorry,” he muttered.

There was a long silence. Eventually Toklo dared to look up. The big grizzly's muzzle was gray with age; scars raked across it and there were more on his shoulder and along his side.

He's been in more battles than I've seen sunrises
. To his surprise the bear didn't look angry anymore.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he grunted.

“Down to the lake,” Toklo replied. “I want to catch a fish.”

The grizzly huffed out his breath. “You'll wait a long time. Oh, there are fish in there, but they're few and far between. Not even enough to keep a scrawny cub like you alive.”

Toklo looked around wildly. “Then what are all these bears going to eat?”

The old bear stared at Toklo for a few moments. Toklo shifted his front paws on the pebbles, feeling his fur itch.

“What's your name, young one?” the big grizzly asked.

“Toklo.”

“And I am Shesh. Now look out across the water, Toklo. What do you see?”

Toklo gazed at the gray, ridged water, wondering what the old bear was getting at. “Um…waves.”

“And what else?” Shesh persisted.

“An island,” Toklo replied. “With bushes…and some trees.”

“This lake has been here since the time before bears,” Shesh told him. “It was a cold and barren place. The wind swept over it, snow and rain and sunlight fell onto the ground, but it never changed. No creatures dared to live here. Then the great bear Arcturus came this way. He was searching for a great wilderness where he could live all alone. He strode across the lake and where he set his paw, an island sprang up. Fish thronged around it and he ate his fill before he journeyed on. And ever
since then we bears have taken this lake for our own, and every suncircle, on the Longest Day, we return here to remember that bear's journey and to give thanks to his spirit.”

That must have been a massive bear,
Toklo thought.
I wonder where he is now
.

“Come with me to the parley stone,” Shesh said, turning away from the water. “There you will hear more tales.”

“But I'm hungry!” Toklo protested.

“We are all hungry, little one,” the old bear replied.

Shesh led the way along the lakeshore until he reached a flat-topped stone that jutted out over the water. Many grizzlies crowded around it: mostly older bears, Toklo noticed, though there were some mothers with cubs. Toklo spotted Ujurak on the opposite side, looking around him with bright-eyed interest. The crowd parted for Shesh with nods of respect, so that he and Toklo could make their way to the foot of the rock.

The old bear Ujurak had spoken to earlier stood on top of the rock. A breeze flattened his pelt against his thin frame, but he held himself more proudly than before.

“That is Oogrook,” Shesh murmured into Toklo's ear. “The oldest and wisest of us all.”

Oogrook lifted his muzzle and let out a long low moan that echoed around the lakeshore. The bears near him sank into silence; then he stopped and began to speak. “This will be my last Longest Day Gathering,” he began, his voice as thin as a reed and faint as the wind on the water. “At sunrise tomorrow I will give thanks to the sun, and to the spirits for—”

“What do you want to
thank
them for?” A she-bear spoke
up, her hackles raised. “They're supposed to bring us food, but we're all hungry. I thought there'd be plenty of fish in the lake, but it's as bad here as everywhere else.”

A few of the bears growled at her for interrupting, but Oogrook silenced them with a raised paw. “What our sister says is true. In some places rivers have dried up, while in others they burst their banks and drown the land around for many bearlengths. There are fewer fish to eat, fewer roots and berries to be found.”

“True, true,” a mother bear grunted, giving her cub a comforting lick on its shoulder.

“So what should we do, Oogrook?” another voice cried from the opposite side of the stone. “If we can't find food, we'll all die!”

A chorus of voices joined in. “Yes, tell us what to do!”

“Where can I find food for my cubs?”

“The fish must have gone
somewhere
!”

Once more Oogrook held up his paw for silence. “We are here to thank the spirits for what should be the time of best prey. And why should we only blame them for the lack of food? Could it be our fault, for not living the way of true brown bears? In such bad times, a demonstration of courage and strength is needed to show that brown bears are still strong, still worthy of being fed by the river spirits.”

“How do we do that?” a bear burst out.

The ancient bear nodded. “A good question. I believe that we can bring the salmon back by following in the pawsteps of Arcturus, the great bear who once walked across the lake. He
was brave enough to make the journey alone, and he found a place where he could live and eat and find shelter.”

“What has this got to do with bringing the fish back?” demanded the she-bear who had spoken first.

“I believe that a bear should make the journey to Pawprint Island,” Oogrook replied. “Alone, because that is how brown bears live—alone, proud, hunting for themselves. Then perhaps Arcturus will look kindly on us, and send back the fish.”

Silence followed his words as the bears looked at one another, with doubt or dawning hope in their expressions.

“It might work,” Shesh said thoughtfully.

“I'll go! I'll go!” squeaked a tiny cub, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Don't be squirrel-brained,” his mother said, calming him with a paw on one shoulder. “You're far too young.”

“Why don't you go, Hattack?” one of the young males suggested, nudging his companion. “You're always saying what a good swimmer you are.”

Hattack looked at his paws. “Well, I would,” he mumbled, “but I've got a cramp in one hind leg.”

“Then I'll go,” his companion announced. “
I'm
not scared.”

Toklo looked at the lake. Waves hissed on the shore; the island looked a long way away. He imagined the great bear Arcturus striding across the water, pulling the island up by his claws and scooping out huge mouthfuls of fish.

He glanced back at the bears gathered around the parley stone. Ujurak was squeezing forward through the crowd. For a moment Toklo was afraid that he was going to volunteer; the
younger cub was certainly bee-brained enough. But Ujurak just listened intently to what the other bears were saying.

A voice spoke behind Toklo. “Here's the bear who should go!” At the same moment a heavy paw landed on his back.

Toklo sprang to his paws and spun around. “What—”

The speaker was a huge bear with a ragged pelt and a hump. Toklo thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where they might have met before.

“Why do you say that, Shoteka?” Oogrook asked, raising his voice above the murmurs of surprise from the other bears.

Memory struck Toklo like a blow in the belly. He remembered a wide salmon river below a mountain, many sunrises ago. And he remembered the grizzly who had tried to drown him there. Toklo's jaws gaped in horror. “Shoteka!”

“I didn't expect to see you again,” the humpbacked bear snarled. “I thought you would have died long ago, with no mother to protect you.”

A pang of grief and anger shook Toklo as he recalled how Oka had defended him from this bear who tried to kill him.

“Shoteka?” Oogrook's voice had an edge of impatience as he waited for an answer. “Why do you choose this cub?”

Shoteka shrugged. “One bear has to go: Why not this one?” More quietly, he added to Toklo, “But you're too weak. No wonder your mother abandoned you.”

“Don't talk about my mother!” Toklo snarled.

The grizzly's eyes glittered with hostility. “Try stopping me.”

“Oogrook.” Shesh drew closer to Toklo's side. “This journey
is too dangerous for a cub.”

“Yes, he's too young,” a bear shouted from the other side of the parley stone. “Why don't you go yourself, Shoteka?”

“I chose him
because
he's young,” Shoteka replied. “He will go a cub but return a full-grown bear, like Arcturus.”

“I think Shoteka's right,” one of the she-bears added. “A cub should go. They are the future of all the bears.”

“Spirits save us!” Shesh growled. “We cannot risk the life of a cub, not even for this.”

All around the stone, the bears erupted into growls and snarls, huffs and snorts, gesturing at Toklo as they argued. Toklo looked across the choppy waves to the island. He imagined how quiet it would be there, away from all these noisy bears.

Shoteka put his muzzle by Toklo's ear. “You're just like your mother, weak and scared,” he whispered. “Sooner or later the flat-faces will come and take you away, and you'll scream for help. Just like Oka did. Scared as a squirrel, she was, begging and pleading as they dragged her into the firebeast.”

Fury surged through Toklo like flame. “I'll go!” he roared at the top of his voice.

The bears stopped arguing and turned to look at him.

“If you survive the challenge, Arcturus will know that brown bears are worthy of being fed for the next suncircle,” Oogrook said.

“
If
you survive,” Shoteka hissed in his ear.

“You don't have to do this,” Shesh said quietly beside him. “You're only a cub. No bear will think worse of you.”

“I'll do it, I'll go,” Toklo insisted.

“That is bravely spoken, young one,” Oogrook said. “May the spirits go with you.”

“Thank you, Oogrook,” Toklo replied, surprised that his voice sounded clear and steady. Glancing at Shoteka, he added, “I hope I meet you again, when I'm bigger!”

“I won't hold my breath,” the grizzly retorted. He turned and padded away from the parley stone.

The other bears began to move away, too; Toklo felt very small when the older bears nodded to him in respect as they went by, while the young ones glanced nervously at him and whispered to one another as if he weren't a regular brown bear anymore, but some kind of spirit-bear.

Ujurak wriggled his way to Toklo's side. “Hey, Toklo, are you really going to swim all the way out there?”

Toklo looked out at Pawprint Island, trying not to let Ujurak see the fear swirling inside his belly. “I'd do anything for a bit of peace and quiet,” he said gruffly.

Shesh padded up to Toklo and stood beside him, gazing out at the island. It seemed to move farther away with every wave that lapped at his paws.