The Snow Bear

by Holly Webb

  Peter stopped sharply and gave a little growl, staring down at the ground. He’d found something. Sara hurried over to him, clapping her hands together to try to warm them up.

  Tracks. But not bear tracks – these were long, thin grooves, with smaller paw prints here and there. A dog sled. Sara felt her heart jump with excitement – they weren’t alone in the snow, as she’d thought. Perhaps whoever had driven past in the sled would have seen Peter’s mother, and would be able to tell her where to take him.

  They set off again, following the sled tracks this time. The sled must have passed by their den since the snow stopped falling, Sara realized. It couldn’t be that far ahead of them, although it would be moving much faster than they were. There was still a chance they could catch up. Perhaps the sled might stop for the dogs to have a rest? If only she could keep walking. She was so tired, even though they must have slept for a long time in the den, and it seemed an effort just to lift her feet. Peter was tiring quickly, too. He’d slowed down, and he kept looking up at her hopefully and nudging at the food bag with his nose.

  “No more sandwiches,” Sara told him apologetically. “Maybe if we catch up with the sled, whoever’s driving it will have something for you.” Then she stopped, staring out across the snow, her heart racing.

  That noise – a low, mournful howling. She’d heard it before, but only in films, never for real. It was a noise from the kind of films where she liked to hide behind her mum on the sofa, with her dad teasing them about being scared.

  It was a wolf.

  Peter gave her a frightened look and darted sideways.

  If he was with his mother, Sara thought, he’d be fine. She’d scare the wolves away. Sara had only heard one howling, but it wouldn’t be alone. Wolves travelled in packs. They wouldn’t attack an adult bear, especially one with a cub to protect – she would be too fierce, too risky. But a girl and a bear cub – they were easy prey. Sara hadn’t any way to fight back, not even with Grandad’s ivory knife. Had the wolves caught their scent? The noise seemed to be coming from a distance. Perhaps if they were lucky…

  The howling came again, and Sara realized with dismay that it was in front of them – on the same course as the tracks. To stay away from the wolves they’d have to turn aside, and lose their chance of catching up with the sled.

  But they didn’t have a choice.

  They hurried on, striking out sideways from the tracks, Sara hoping that would take them away from the wolves. The howling seemed a little fainter and further away. At least the fright had woken her up a bit, although she wasn’t any warmer.

  Peter was whimpering now, tired and hungry, and Sara stopped to stroke him, and whisper in his ears. “We have to keep going. What about those wolves? We can’t let them catch us. We’re doing the right thing, Peter. I can’t hear them any more. Maybe in a while we’ll come across the sled tracks again…” But she wasn’t very hopeful about that. They’d gone too far out of their way. She’d have to look for a village instead, or another hunter. She couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t.

  Eventually Peter simply stopped, shaking his head like a sulky child, refusing to go any further.

  Sara looked at him anxiously. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Come on, little bear. We can’t just stop. We’ll both freeze.” But Peter stayed where he was, his paws planted stubbornly in the snow, shaking his head, and making that odd chuffing little growl again.

  Sara sighed. Maybe he’d follow her if she went on a bit. He was tired, that was all. She took a few steps away from him, hoping he’d stop being grouchy and catch her up. She turned back to see if he was going to follow, and smiled as she saw him start to run forward. It was working!

  Her sigh of relief turned to surprise as Peter yipped worriedly, and caught her trouser leg in his teeth – but too late. She was already falling. A crevasse in the ice had opened up beneath her, and she hadn’t even seen it. Peter must have known, she thought wearily. She seemed to be turning over and over as she tumbled into the darkness, and everything was horribly slow. He sensed something was wrong. He wasn’t being sulky. He was trying to stop me. I should have realized…

  Her head hurt. Sara tried to sit up, but that only made her feel sick and dizzy, and when she opened her eyes, everything went white.

  She blinked.

  Actually, everything was white. She’d forgotten for a moment, that was all. She was in some strange world of dream and snow, trying to return a lost polar bear cub to his mother. And now she had fallen into a crevasse, a great tear in the ice. How far down was she?

  She peered up again, more carefully this time, trying not to jar her aching head. Peter was looking down at her, a white furry head leaning over the edge of the icy cliff, eyeing her worriedly.

  He was a long way up. Perhaps an arm’s length further than she could reach. She couldn’t get back up there, not without a rope, and someone to pull. The ice looked sheer – there were no useful little footholds to climb up by. She wasn’t sure she could climb even if there were – she felt all wobbly.

  Peter whined worriedly, and Sara tried to stand up, to tell him it was all right. But she had a horrible feeling it wasn’t. She was stuck.

  She blinked again. There was another face now, another furry face, staring down at her over the lip of the crevasse. She squinted, half closing her eyes against the low sunlight, and realized that it was a boy, wearing a fur-trimmed hood. An Inuit boy, a few years older than her. Peter had edged away from him, but he was still there.

  “Did you fall down?” the boy called.

  Sara nodded, and wished she hadn’t. “Yes,” she whispered, wincing. It was a stupid question, anyway. What did he think had happened?

  “All right. Don’t worry. I just need to undo some of the harness, then I can use it to pull you out.”

  “Thank you…” Sara said quietly, wrapping her arms round her middle. It was even colder down in the crevasse, although at least she was sheltered from the wind. She could hear it whining and whistling as it blew over the top of the great crack in the ice.

  What did the boy mean, harness? She thought of calling back to ask, but didn’t. She didn’t want to slow him down.

  “Can you tie this round yourself?” A strip of dark stuff that looked like oiled leather was dangling above her, and the boy’s face was staring down at her. She could see his mittened hand, too, guiding the harness so it fell towards her.

  Of course. It was his sled they’d followed, and those strange whining noises weren’t just the wind. There was a team of sled dogs up there, and he’d unfastened their harness so he could use it to pull her out. They must have wandered close to the sled tracks again after all. Sara tied the harness round her waist, and held on to it as tightly as she could. She wasn’t sure how the boy was going to pull her out. He looked bigger than she was, but not that much bigger. Surely she would be too heavy for him to manage on his own?

  “Hold on! We’ll start pulling you up now,” he called down to her, and Sara gasped as the harness tightened, and she started to bump slowly up the icy wall. He was using the dogs to help him drag her up – she could hear their claws scuffling on the ice, and their confused whining as they pulled this strange load.

  The ice wasn’t quite as smooth as it had looked from down below, and Sara was able to push herself up a little by digging her toes into the cracks here and there. But it was still a slow and difficult climb, and she was exhausted by the time the boy hauled her over the lip of the crevasse.

  “Thank you!” she gasped, and then let out a breathless laugh as Peter hurled himself at her, nuzzling her anxiously. He kept sniffing and nudging at her, obviously trying to make sure she was all right.

  “So he’s yours? You’ve got a polar bear cub?” the boy asked her curiously as he untied the harness and fixed it back on to the sled with the six dogs jumping around him excitedly. “How did you find him?”

  Sara shook her head very carefully. Her headache wasn’t as bad as it had been before, but i
t was still definitely there. She must have hit it as she fell. “He found me,” she told the boy. “He’s lost. I was trying to help him find his mother, but the snowstorm covered her tracks.” She staggered, almost falling, and the boy grabbed her arms.

  “You look frozen. Here, sit down on the sled. Wrap these round you.” He half led, half pushed her to the dog-sled, grabbing a bundle of soft, greyish furs that Sara thought were probably seal skin. She felt sorry for the seals, but they were beautifully warm!

  “That’s better.” The boy nodded approvingly. “You’re lucky I saw your bear cub. There’s a wolf pack close – I heard them howling.”

  “We heard them, too,” Sara whispered, huddling herself into the furs.

  “Look, eat some of this.” The boy undid one of the packages tied to the sled. “You need to keep eating out here. You have to keep your strength up in the cold.”

  Sara looked at the strange, leathery stuff he was trying to feed her, and nibbled a little bit of it politely. It was horrible. It tasted fishy and oily and dry, all at the same time. She guessed it was some sort of preserved fish. She burrowed under the seal skins for the bag of food she’d brought from home, and dug out two chocolate biscuits. She handed one to the boy, and he looked at it as though he’d never seen anything like it before. “Maybe you’ve never had chocolate? You’ll love it. Oh, my head hurts…”

  The boy was looking at her worriedly, but he was eating the biscuit, and obviously liked it. Sara sneaked her piece of dried fish to Peter, who she’d pulled up next to her on the sled. He needed it more than she did, she told herself, feeling a little bit guilty. Peter didn’t seem to mind the taste at all, and he snuggled up next to her under the seal skins, casting nervous glances at the dogs. They were a bit bigger than he was, and very loud. The boy had fastened their harnesses back on, but they weren’t lined up in pairs, the way Sara had expected. Instead they were harnessed in a sort of fan shape in front of the sled. They kept turning round and staring at Sara and Peter with bright, inquisitive eyes.

  Sara looked at the boy, licking chocolate from round his lips eagerly. He seemed familiar, somehow. But she couldn’t work out why. Her sore head was making everything seem strange, and it was only as the boy climbed on to the sled in front of her and called to the dogs, sending them racing over the snow, that Sara wondered how she could understand what he was saying. She’d been talking to him all this time, and she was sure they weren’t talking English.

  Sara was about to ask the boy who he was, but with the wind whistling around them, and the snow crunching under the sled runners, she knew he wouldn’t hear her. She wrapped herself up in the furs more tightly, and leaned against Peter. Now that she was getting warmer again, her fingers throbbed painfully inside her fleece gloves.

  Where was he taking them? Somewhere warm, perhaps. He’d said she looked cold. She stared ahead, over the backs of the racing dogs, but all she saw was whiteness. It was another half an hour before the sled began to slow, and she understood that the smooth hump of snow in front of them was actually an igloo. A proper, big igloo, nothing like the little one she and Grandad had built. She gazed at it admiringly as they pulled up by the side, and the sled dogs immediately started barking excitedly.

  This igloo had a proper entrance tunnel, half buried in the snow. The igloo was taller than Sara was – she guessed it was about the same height as her grandad, maybe a little taller. It was built of huge blocks of snow, each about half a metre long, and fitted together perfectly. It shone in the pinkish light, and Sara smiled at the sight of it. She hadn’t ever thought that an igloo could be so beautiful.

  The boy sprang down from the sled, and started to unharness the dogs, and fasten them to posts dug into the snow. He saw that Sara was watching him questioningly. “They sleep outdoors.”

  “Won’t they be cold?” Sara asked, looking at the dogs anxiously.

  But the boy only laughed and pointed to the nearest dog, who was curled up in the snow, with his tail wrapped tightly round his nose and his paws. Sara had never seen a dog curl up so small – he looked almost like a cat. “They can sleep through a blizzard like that. And they have to stay out – they’re our guard dogs, too. They let us know if there’s a polar bear around.”

  Sara hugged Peter tightly. “They won’t hurt him, will they?”

  The boy shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. He’s too little. And perhaps he smells of you.”

  The boy finished tying up the dogs, and came towards her, holding out a hand to help her off the sled. “You’d better come in. You need feeding. My grandmother will make you some soup – that’ll warm you up. My father still isn’t back with a seal, and you look too cold to wait.” He hauled her off the sled, and Peter leaped off after her. Then the boy ducked down, stooping into the entrance of the igloo, and waving at her to follow him.

  Sara laid her hand on Peter’s neck, calling him to follow, but he wasn’t sure about going into the little tunnel. Perhaps the igloo smelled strangely of humans. He sniffed at it doubtfully and looked up at her. Then at last he gave himself a little shake, as though he’d decided it must be all right, if she was going in. Together they crept inside the snow house.

  As Sara emerged into the main room of the igloo, blinking in the dim light, the boy seemed to be arguing with someone.

  “You see! I’m sorry I didn’t bring back any fish, but I’m not telling a story, I did find a girl,” the boy said triumphantly, coming to pull her further in. “She’d fallen into a crevasse. I saw the bear cub first. I wanted to know why he was staring over the edge of the ice like that.” Proudly, he turned Sara to face an old lady, sitting on a pile of skins spread over a ledge of snow that ran across the far side of the igloo. She was wrapped in skins too, with a sort of furry poncho over a bright fringed and embroidered tunic, and a pair of the same soft furry boots that the boy was wearing. She was sitting by a strange bowl-shaped lamp full of oil, and sewing by the light it gave her.

  The old lady shook her head. “A girl and a bear. Like one of the old tales, Alignak, you’re right, though I could have done with those fish.” She turned to Sara. “Where have you come from, child? And who sent you out dressed like that? You look half frozen.” Frowning, she tugged at Sara’s coat sleeve, as though she didn’t approve of it at all. “Come here, sit by the qulliq. Maybe you came from the lights,” she whispered. “One of the ancestors, come down from the sky…”

  “It feels warm in here,” Sara said, as she sat where the old lady showed her, holding out her hands over the stone oil lamp. Grandad had talked about lamps like this, hadn’t he? That they melted the inside of the igloo? She looked up at the snow wall and saw that it was a sheet of smooth ice, like he’d said. But she hadn’t expected the igloo to feel so cosy, when it was made of snow! There was even a block of greenish ice, halfway up the wall, for a window.

  The old lady bustled around, finding some more dried meat and putting it into a small stone pot that she balanced on a frame over the lamp. “Go and get me some snow, Alignak,” she told the boy. “I’ll make some broth to warm her up.” Then she eyed Peter thoughtfully. “I’ve no fresh seal meat for you, little one, not till my son and Alignak’s brother come back from hunting. You’ll have to have the dried caribou, like your girl.” She cut off a strip, and fed it to Peter, who was lying across Sara’s feet. She was actually starting to be able to feel her toes again, and she was thinking more clearly in the warmth. Who did Alignak and his grandmother think she was?

  And who were they?

  Then she remembered. That was where she knew him from! The photograph!

  Alignak was the boy her grandad had known, she was sure. The boy who’d been with him when he found the bear cub. It was as though she was inside her favourite story. Sara shook her head. She didn’t understand, and she didn’t think Alignak and his grandmother did, either. But perhaps it didn’t really matter. The important thing was to find Peter’s mother, and make sure he was safe. Sara sat watching the orange flame
s flickering on the oil lamp, and feeling Peter shift and wriggle on her feet as he gnawed at the dried meat.

  The broth in the stone pot was starting to steam gently. It smelled like the tins of beef and vegetable soup her dad liked to have when it was cold. Sara bit her lip. She didn’t want to think about home – it was too far away – but it was hard not to. Dad might be having soup for lunch too.

  “Here.” Alignak’s grandmother passed her a wide ivory spoon, and beckoned her to sit by the cooking pot. “This should warm you up.”

  Sara sipped the broth, blowing at it, and wincing as it burned her lips. After the dried fish, she hadn’t been sure she’d like the soup, but it was hot and delicious, and soon she could feel the warmth spreading through her. She offered the spoon to Alignak, but he shook his head.

  “No, you eat it. My father and brother will be back soon, with a seal.”

  While Sara was eating, the old lady was searching through a pile of clothes, glancing over at Sara, and muttering to herself. She turned over soft furs, and more of the beautiful embroidered tunics that she was wearing. Sara had seen photos of Inuit people dressed in clothes like these back at Grandad’s, but they’d all been in black and white. She hadn’t expected the clothes to be so brightly coloured.

  As soon as Sara had finished the soup, Alignak’s grandmother held up a pair of mittens and a hood, and nodded. “These should fit. Take off those other ones – they’re no use at all.”

  Sara obediently slipped her fleece gloves into her pockets, and put the fur mittens on.

  “They’re caribou skin,” Alignak told her. “Much warmer than yours. Caribou makes the best snow clothes.”