by Erin Hunter
Toklo closed his eyes. The soft lap of the waves on the shore seemed full of spirit-voices as he drifted into sleep.
The barking of bears woke Toklo; from his den under the pine tree he could see across the lake to the shore where the brown bears were gathering. They were crowded together at the water’s edge, around the parley stone, but they were too far away for Toklo to see exactly what they were doing, or hear their voices clearly. Above his head the sky was flushed with dawn; the glittering disc of the sun was floating into the sky once more, already too bright to look at. Toklo’s paws tingled. This is the Longest Day!
A bird in the branches above his head let out an alarm call. Clambering out of his den, Toklo spotted movement on the beach. Something was bobbing in the waves at the edge of the lake, something far too big to be a bird or a weasel. Toklo ducked behind the pine tree above his sleeping hollow and peered out. Scrambling out of the water, shaking himself dry, was a ragged-pelted grizzly with a distinctive hump between his shoulders. Toklo’s heart sank.
Shoteka!
CHAPTER TWENTY
Toklo
Toklo waited in the cover of the pine tree as Shoteka scanned the shore in front of him. After a moment’s ominous silence, the grizzly opened his jaws in a roar. “Come out!”
Toklo’s first instinct was to hide. But he’ll find me. It’s a small island. And he can track me by my scent.
“Come out, coward!” the humpbacked grizzly roared again.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Toklo hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m supposed to be alone.”
Glancing at the waves, he wondered if Oka and Tobi were watching him, telling him to be brave. I’ll make you proud of me, he promised as he stepped out onto the shore and faced the humpbacked bear. Just for a heartbeat he caught a glimmer of shock in Shoteka’s tiny, hostile eyes.
“What do you want?” Toklo demanded.
The humpbacked bear let out a huff of contempt. “You think you can bring the fish back? A useless, weak bear like you?”
“I am not weak!” Toklo snarled.
“Weak bears should be killed,” Shoteka said, ignoring him, “before they weaken all of us. I don’t know why your mother bothered protecting you. After all, she was weak, too. She couldn’t even look after you!”
Toklo’s anger erupted in a red flash of rage. “Oka did the best she could,” he growled.
“It was a poor best,” Shoteka sneered.
Letting out a roar, Toklo charged down the pebbly shore. Surprise gave him the advantage. He managed to rake his claws down Shoteka’s side as he dashed past, before the other bear could do anything to defend himself.
Toklo whirled to attack again, in time to see Shoteka rear up on his hindpaws with his forepaws splayed out, his claws tearing at the air. Shoteka bellowed so loudly that a pair of large white birds flapped out of a tree behind Toklo. For a heartbeat he hesitated: This bear was nearly twice his size! His legs were like tree trunks, and his body was almost as big as a firebeast’s.
You’re smaller, but you’re faster, Oka’s voice whispered in Toklo’s mind.
Shoteka loomed over Toklo, ready to fall on him and crush him like a beetle. Darting forward, Toklo dodged the outstretched claws and slashed Shoteka’s exposed belly. Blood sprang along the line of his claws, and Toklo smelled its hot scent. He leaped out of the way as the grizzly dropped to four paws again.
Toklo felt teeth meet his neck fur. He squealed as Shoteka lifted all four of his paws off the ground, shook him as if he were a hare, then flung him onto the stones. Toklo lay still, half-stunned, trying to remember how to breathe; pain pierced him as claws raked over his shoulder and down his side.
Through blurred vision he saw the big grizzly standing over him, his teeth bared, ready to bite down on his neck. The reek of his hot breath swept over Toklo. “Are you ready to swim with the spirits, weakling?”
Desperately Toklo wriggled onto his back and battered at the humpback’s belly with his hindpaws. He heard a grunt and his opponent moved away, enough for Toklo to scramble to his paws again.
“I’m not swimming with any spirits yet,” he growled.
He rushed in to give one of Shoteka’s paws a sharp nip, before springing back out of range. He could feel blood trickling from his wounds, and felt as if his strength was trickling away with it. I can’t keep this up much longer.
The humpbacked bear was wary now, circling him with hatred in his eyes. Toklo’s courage surged up again. “Now who’s weak?” he taunted.
Shoteka lunged at him; Toklo dodged at the last moment and managed to get another blow in on the bear’s rump. The humpback let out a shriek of frustration.
Before Shoteka could turn to face him again, Toklo scrambled up onto the other bear’s back. He raked his claws across the humpback’s head, tearing out huge clumps of fur. Shoteka’s blood spattered on the pebbles. He started to rear up again; Toklo half-jumped, half-fell off the bear’s back and braced himself for the next blow.
But the grizzly didn’t attack. Instead, he dropped his forepaws to the ground and stood shaking his head. Toklo watched him, terrified that Shoteka was gathering his strength for a quick revenge. Panting, he crouched on the stones, feeling them dig into the scratches on his flanks.
But Shoteka turned away and shambled a few paces farther down the beach. Toklo stared after him in startled silence as the humpbacked bear paused for a couple of heartbeats, then began to wade out into the lake.
With water halfway up his legs, Shoteka turned to look over his shoulder. “You are not worthy to honor Arcturus,” he snapped. “I may have spared you today, but there will come a time when you’ll wish that I’d killed you. Your mother shamed me, and I will have my revenge. For now, I will let you live. But there are worse times to come, little bear, believe me. This is only the beginning.”
He waded out farther until the water reached his shoulders and he began to swim. Toklo watched his bobbing dark head vanish among the white-tipped waves.
So that’s why he came looking for me, he thought. Because my mother saved me before. Oka, you were right to save me then. I’ll never regret that, never! He pushed away the memory of Shoteka’s last words, about worse times lying ahead. Those were just the words of a defeated bear; they meant nothing. Toklo would never wish he had died!
He waded into the lake until he could lie on one side and let the waves lap against his wounds. He took a few mouthfuls of cool water. My first battle, he thought. I defended my territory.
Heaving himself out of the water, Toklo limped back across the foreshore and curled up in the hollow underneath the pine tree. The sun was well above the horizon now, its warm rays soothing his battered body.
This was what it meant to be a brown bear. To live alone, powerful and fierce, so that every other bear would respect and fear him.
I want it to be like this always, he thought. I don’t want to be responsible for any other bears. Just myself, guarding my territory alone like the star that is chased around the sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kallik
Kallik dozed uneasily through the short night on an uncomfortable bed of stones. The older bears had taken all of the best sleeping places, though she noticed that Taqqiq and his friends had found a soft patch of grass to rest on, after they chased off a she-bear and her cub.
But it was not just the stones digging into her that kept Kallik awake. Her quest to find her brother was over. But it had all gone wrong. She didn’t recognize Taqqiq in this rough bully who thought nothing of stealing another bear’s prey and scorned the other bears when they talked about the spirits. He cared more about his cruel friends than he did about her. And she had no idea what she ought to do now.
Kallik raised her head as other bears brushed past her, heading down to the lakeshore in eerie silence. The old she-bear, Siqiniq, whom Kallik had spoken to the day before, was standing on a rock at the water’s edge. As the other bears crowded around her, Kallik got up and followed them, f
ull of curiosity.
The sky was stained red from the approaching sunrise. A hush fell over the assembled bears as the glow grew brighter. In the silence, Kallik heard a yelp from behind, and turned her head to see Taqqiq and his friends wrestling together at the edge of the crowd. An older bear snapped at them, but they didn’t stop.
As the glittering rim of the sun edged above the horizon, Siqiniq stood taller on the rock and raised one paw. “Sun, we welcome you on this Longest Day,” she began, her voice ringing out clearly. “Now hear my words: Your reign is ending. From now on, the dark will return at the end of each day, bringing with it snow and ice, and striking stillness into the melted water. White bears will be able to return to their feeding grounds once more.”
A sigh swept through the bears. The ice could not return too soon to ease their hunger. Still sleepy, Kallik stifled a yawn, and hoped no bear would think she was being disrespectful.
“Bear spirits,” Siqiniq went on, “bring back the dark, so that you may shine again in your tiny fragments of ice. Drive the sun lower in the sky, so that we can honor you from our ancient home on the ice.”
She fell silent, and all the bears waited until the whole disc of the sun had cleared the horizon. Kallik could still hear scuffling and muffled yelps from the direction of Taqqiq and his friends. Shut up! she thought fiercely. I don’t care if you don’t believe in what Siqiniq is saying. Other bears have the right to listen to her.
Once the sun was up, all the bears bowed their heads toward it. Kallik bowed, too, feeling awestruck that she was here to witness the beginning of the return of the ice, and the power of Siqiniq, who could even command the sun.
Then the gathering began to break up, the bears going back to their sleeping places, or farther up the beach to forage in the undergrowth. A few of them waded into the lake, peering in hopefully for fish. Kallik realized how hungry she was; she headed for the lake, too, wondering if she could hide anything she caught from Taqqiq and the others.
Her brother and his friends were tussling with one another at the water’s edge, splashing around noisily and not even trying to fish.
“Hey!” one of them barked, breaking away from the scrimmage. “There’s Namak with a fish. Let’s go grab it!” He pointed to a much older bear, slowly heading away from the water with a fish in his mouth.
The rest of the bears sat up, then sprang to their paws. They ran after the older bear and encircled him, pushing and shoving him from all sides and batting at him with their claws. Confused, Namak tried to shoulder his way past them, but they wouldn’t let him go. He let out a growl of frustration and dropped the fish.
Immediately all four of the bears pounced on the prey and tore it apart, gulping the scraps down until it was gone. Namak stood watching them, his lips peeled back in a snarl, but there was nothing he could do. His shoulders drooped and he trudged to the edge of the lake and waded out into the water.
“That’s right, old seal-brain!” one of the young bears yelled. “Catch us another one!”
Angry and discouraged, Kallik turned away from the lake. She wasn’t going to catch a fish to feed Taqqiq and his horrible friends. Instead, she headed for the undergrowth at the top of the beach, where a few bears were feeding on leaves and berries. Kallik found a bush in a quiet spot where she could munch on the foliage, wishing it were succulent fish instead. She was still struggling to swallow her first mouthful when she heard approaching pawsteps and stiffened at the loud voice of one of Taqqiq’s friends.
“This will do. No bear will hear us.”
Kallik peered out from behind her bush. A couple of bearlengths away, the four young bears were settling themselves down, breaking branches to make enough space and tearing off mouthfuls of leaves, only to spit them out with disgusted noises.
“This is worse than rotfood,” one of them whined.
“Yeah, you’re right, Manik,” said another. “It’s not fit for bears.”
“Complaining’s no good, Iqaluk. We’ll starve if we don’t do something,” a third bear growled. He was bigger than the others, with heavy shoulders and a narrow face. “There has to be food somewhere. If we can’t catch it ourselves, we’ll have to take it.”
“But Salik, where can we take it from?” Taqqiq objected. “These scrawny bears can’t catch any prey worth eating. They’re only strong enough to beg the sun to go away.”
“There’ll be food in the forest over the other side,” Salik snarled. “Animals to prey on, roots and berries to eat. The bears over there are far better off than we are.”
“Yeah,” Manik agreed. “It’s not fair that we’re stuck here while they’re in the forest stuffing themselves.”
“That’s what I was going to tell you.” Salik, who seemed to be the leader of the group, leaned forward, his eyes slitted. “It’s not fair, so we should do something about it. Let’s raid their dens and drive them out! Then we can take their food!”
Kallik listened in horror. Attacking a whole group of other bears? Stealing all their food? Surely Taqqiq wouldn’t go along with this!
Before she could call out to him, she heard the sound of another bear pushing his way through the undergrowth. She looked up to see a full-grown bear who strode up to Taqqiq and the others.
“What did I hear you say?” he demanded. “Raiding the forest? Have you got feathers in your brain?”
“Shove off, old goose,” Salik retorted, rudely turning his back on the older bear. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me, and every other bear here,” the bear replied. “Stealing food from other bears? Fighting with other bears? On the Longest Day?”
His voice had reached the ears of more white bears, who padded down the foreshore or waded up from the lake to see what was going on. They crowded around Taqqiq and his friends, their voices raised in shock and anxiety.
“What’s going on? What did they say?”
“You can’t do that! Show a bit of respect!”
Kallik wriggled out of the bushes and squeezed herself through the crowd of tightly packed bodies.
Salik and the older male were glaring at each other as if they were a heartbeat away from a fight. Taqqiq and the other two had bunched together, their lips drawn back in a snarl as they stared defiantly around.
“Have you no respect for tradition?” quavered a high-pitched voice.
The bears parted to let Siqiniq pad into the center. Her body was frail and old, but her eyes blazed. “Don’t you know that this is a day of truce, to honor the spirits of the ice? That’s why we’re here, not to fight and steal and make enemies of other bears.”
Salik huffed out a breath of contemptuous laughter. “Every bear knows there are no spirits. That’s just a tale to frighten cubs.”
“Right. We don’t believe in that garbage anymore,” Taqqiq added.
Kallik gasped. Was this really Taqqiq talking, who had curled up with her in their BirthDen and listened to Nisa’s stories about Silaluk and the hunters? “Taqqiq, no…” she pleaded, but other voices drowned her out.
“If I were your mother, I’d give you a good clawing,” a she-bear spat out.
“My mother’s dead,” Taqqiq retorted. “And you can’t tell me what to do.”
“Are we going or not?” Salik demanded. “The rest of you can sit here and starve, for all I care,” he snarled at the crowd. “Wait and see how much your precious spirits will do for you.”
“Yes,” Iqaluk put in. “We need food, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get it. It’s not our problem if you’re too scared.”
With Salik in the lead, all four bears shoved their way through the crowd and disappeared into the bushes.
“Kunik, we have to stop this,” Siqiniq said, her eyes wide with distress.
The older male who had spoken first looked grim. “We can’t fight them, or we break the truce, too. Do you want to make the ice spirits angry with all white bears?”
Siqiniq’s claws scraped the ground i
n front of her. “Then what will happen?”
“That is in the paws of the ice spirits,” Kunik replied.
Kallik pushed her way through the edge of the crowd and out into the open. She could see Taqqiq and the others running along the lakeshore.
“Taqqiq! Wait!” she cried.
If her brother heard her, he gave no sign of it. He raced along in Salik’s pawsteps; Kallik flung herself after him.
“Wait for me!” she panted.
She forced her paws to move faster, dodging other bears, ignoring the sharp stones that stabbed her pads. Pelting all out, she couldn’t avoid a thorny bush growing in the gap between two boulders, and the sharp spines tore at her fur. Stubbornly, she didn’t slow down, just wrenched herself through the narrow space and kept running. But the other bears were drawing steadily away, toward a line of dark trees.
She wondered what the ice spirits would do to bears who broke the truce. Maybe Taqqiq would never become a star, never be with their mother, Nisa, again, shining in the sky.
Though she was falling farther and farther behind, Kallik ran on, trying to ignore her aching leg muscles and sore paws.
Oh, spirits, help me, she begged. Somehow I have to stop him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kallik
Kallik paused, panting, her heart thumping as if it were about to burst out of her chest. She had lost sight of Taqqiq and the others; she didn’t think they could have reached the forest yet, so where had they gone?
The hard ground where the white bears were gathered had given way to marshland. Small streams meandered through muddy grass and reeds, with a few twisted bushes where the ground began to slope upward to a ridge. The wind dropped for a moment, and Kallik heard the raucous voices of young bears coming from inland, behind the ridge. She paused, sniffing, and from the mingled scents of white bears she picked out the familiar one that was her brother’s.
