by Holly Webb
Sara nodded. The mittens felt warm and soft. The Inuit people used every part of the creatures they hunted, Grandad had told her, even the stomach and other insides. Nothing was wasted. She might not have wanted to wear fur at home, but here, in this strange snowy dream, she knew she needed the mittens. The old lady tied the hood round her chin and looked pleased.
“Thank you,” Sara whispered, reaching down to stroke Peter, who was pulling at her leg with his teeth.
“He wants to go,” Alignak said, and Sara nodded.
“But we don’t know where we’re going,” she sighed. “The storm buried his mother’s tracks. How am I supposed to find her?”
Alignak frowned. “She’ll be further out on the sea ice, where the seals come up,” he told her, glancing at his grandmother, who nodded. “Hunting. There’s a lead, not too far from here, where we often see bears.”
Sara shook her head apologetically. “What’s a lead?”
The boy blinked, as though he couldn’t believe she didn’t know. “Open water – like a channel in the ice. Bears like to hunt there, you see. We hunt there too, sometimes. I can show you which way to go…” He looked as though he’d like to go too, but his grandmother was shaking her head.
She probably doesn’t want him to get gobbled up by an angry mother polar bear, Sara thought to herself, shivering a little, even with the warm mittens and hood. Or maybe she thinks I’m some sort of strange creature out of an old story.
“You should wait for my son to come back,” the old lady said firmly. “Alignak’s father. He’ll take you – that will be safer.”
But Peter was pulling at her leg again, and making anxious little growling noises. He seemed determined that they go now. Sara smiled gratefully at Alignak and his grandmother. “I can’t wait – it’s starting to get dark, isn’t it? I’ll have no chance of finding Peter’s mother then.”
She didn’t want to say it, but if she waited for the hunters to get back and take her to the lead, they would probably frighten the mother bear away. Or worse, she might know what hunters looked like, and decide to attack them. It was safer for everyone if she and Peter went by themselves.
“Thank you for the soup, and for feeding Peter,” she told the old lady. “It was very kind of you.”
“We always share what we have,” Alignak said, sounding almost surprised. “Food belongs to everyone who needs it. Come on, I’ll take you towards the break in the sea ice – just a little way,” he added to his grandmother, who nodded reluctantly.
“I wish I could come with you all the way,” Alignak said as they came out into the snow again, and he led her towards the ice hills behind the igloo. “But the bears – it’s too dangerous, unless we’re in a hunting party.” He looked at her worriedly and caught her hand, as though he wanted to pull her back to the safety of the igloo. “I have to go back. Will you really be all right?”
Sara swallowed and nodded firmly. “Yes.” She was fairly sure she couldn’t be eaten in a story. Almost sure, anyway. She hugged Alignak, surprised at how small he felt under his layers of furs, and laughed at his shocked face. “Goodbye!” she called as she walked away, turning back every so often to wave. Peter galloped ahead of her, full of energy now that he’d eaten.
The last time she turned back, Alignak and the igloo seemed to have melted away, settling back into the snowy whiteness, as if they had never been there at all.
Had it only been a trick of the fading light? Sara almost ran back to see, but something stopped her. It was better to keep going, and Peter was darting ahead of her. She hurried after the little bear – she couldn’t risk losing him.
To get to the lead, where Alignak thought Peter’s mother might be, they had to walk through amaze of strange ice hills, where the ice had been squashed up over the years till it looked like waves on the sea. It was hard going, picking her way through the icy hummocks, and Sara’s legs were aching. Peter’s furry feet and sharp claws were built for scrambling over ice, and he kept bouncing along in front of her, turning back every so often to run round behind and herd her along, like a lost sheep.
“I know. You want to see your mother. Soon. I’m sure we’ll find her soon,” Sara muttered, stopping to rest for a minute. “I hope so, anyway,” she added, glancing anxiously at the sky. It was getting dark, the low sun striking the ice formations and turning them a glowing pink. It was beautiful – but scary. What if they had to spend a night out here on the ice? They could try to find their way back to the igloo, but they’d already been walking for ages, and it would be fully dark before they got back. If the snow house was even still there.
She shivered suddenly as an eerie howl echoed around the snowy hills. The wolves were back. Peter slunk closer to her, pressing anxiously against her legs. She should have asked Alignak for a bow and arrows, Sara thought, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure how far they were from the lead – Alignak had said it was an hour’s walk. It felt like they’d been walking for longer. Perhaps they were close. It would be so unfair if the wolves drove them off-course again.
Maybe she could throw a stone – except there weren’t any. A chunk of ice? She scrabbled around at her feet, trying to find something, anything, she could use as a weapon.
Then a low, threatening growl made her stop, her breath catching in her throat. Was that the wolves? Were they closer? She stood up slowly, trying to push Peter behind her. Perhaps the wolves would be so surprised to see a human they’d run off, especially if she shouted. She couldn’t let them hurt the little bear.
But then Peter darted forward, making excited little squeaking noises, and Sara gulped. An enormous polar bear was running towards them, so fast that she was swinging from side to side.
Sara felt her eyes fill with joyful tears, and she rubbed an icy mitten across her face to brush them away before they froze. They’d found her! The huge white bear was Peter’s mother. It had to be, from the way he was leaping joyfully around her.
The big bear sniffed him carefully, all over, making sure he was all right. Then she nuzzled him lovingly, rubbing her huge head up and down his soft fur again and again. At last, she looked up, staring curiously at Sara. She took a step towards her, and Sara realized that the mother bear’s paw prints in the snow made hers look tiny, even though she had her big boots on. Sara had got used to thinking of polar bears as Peter-sized. Small and cuddly. This bear was taller on all four paws than Sara was standing up. If the bear stood up on her hind legs to fight, she’d be giant.
Sara swallowed. She wasn’t sure if the bear knew what she’d been doing – that she’d been trying to help. What if Peter’s mother thought she was dangerous, that Sara was someone who might hurt her baby? She stood still, looking down at her small feet, and trying not to seem scary.
But the bear didn’t come any closer. She nudged Peter firmly, and turned around, heading back the way she’d come. Peter glanced back at Sara and hesitated, but followed his mother. They set off across the snow, leaving Sara all alone.
She’d done it. She’d brought Peter back to his mother.
Sara tried to smile, but she felt too tired and too sad. She’d only known the little bear for a day, but now he was gone, she felt lost. She sank down slowly, so that she was sitting in the snow. She knew she shouldn’t – if she sat down, she’d get too cold. She had to keep moving. She had to find her own way home now.
She’d only sit for a little while. Tears ran slowly down her cheeks, and she felt them freeze. A few snowflakes drifted gently past her.
Then someone nudged her, a gentle push against her shoulder, and Sara looked up slowly.
They were back. Peter’s mother was standing over her. So close that Sara could see her eyes, black and glinting and curious. She nudged Sara again, shoving her so that she’d stand up. Sara staggered to her feet obediently, and the bear seemed to be pleased. She crouched down in the snow, stretching her forepaws out in front of her, and pushed Sara up against her side.
Sara looked worriedly at Peter.
Did his mother want her to climb on to her back? Peter darted towards her, and pushed the back of her knees. Sara did as she was told, clambering on to the huge back, just behind the bear’s shoulder. She’d ridden a pony before, but the bear was so big, and so wide. It was like sitting on a sofa – a warm, white, slightly smelly sofa that moved. Sara gave a squeak as the bear set off, swaying gently as she walked. Peter ran along beside them, looking up at Sara happily, and occasionally dancing off in front of his mother to snap at the snowflakes and scuffle about, just like a little boy.
Sara stared around her. It was almost completely dark, and a light snow was falling. The sky was scattered with stars, and she smiled sadly, remembering the stars in Grandad’s garden and at home. How was she going to get back?
She frowned a little, staring at the sky – a strange, greenish-white band had appeared, stretching across the stars, and as she watched, it grew. The light stretched into a curtain that seemed to be hanging in the sky, rippling and shimmering. Purple streaks danced across it, and Sara laughed in delight.
The polar bear stopped, gazing up at the lights and nuzzling her cub.
“The Northern Lights,” Sara whispered. “Grandad told me about them. I wish I could go back and tell him I’ve seen them too…” She leaned forward, resting her face against the polar bear’s fur and looking up at the lights swirling and dancing through the sky. There were pictures in it now… Two bears, large and small. She laughed again quietly and stretched down one hand to stroke Peter’s head.
Peter rubbed his muzzle against her hand lovingly and turned back to look at the pictures in the sky.
Sara reached out a hand towards the lights. Her mother’s face… She was smiling…
“Sara?” A deep voice was calling her gently, and Sara blinked, not sure where she was. A moment ago, she’d been lying pillowed against the thick yellowish-white fur of a polar bear. She sat up a little, shaking her head, and stroked the fur under her fingers again – the furry lining of her grandad’s hooded coat.
She was back! Back with Grandad – she was safe!
But it had been a dream then, she realized miserably. She hadn’t saved Peter at all. She’d just woven it out of Grandad’s story, and her own wish to be at home with her mother.
“I didn’t mean to let you fall asleep, Sara, love,” her grandad said gently. “I was telling the story, and remembering. It all seemed so real again, looking out at the snow. And when I glanced down, you’d drifted off. We’d better go back inside. Get you into a proper bed.”
Sara nodded, standing up, and stretching out her fingers. Same old pink fleece gloves. Not caribou-fur mittens. She supposed they would have been hard to explain at school. She hefted her sleeping bag into her arms and the little packet of sandwiches, and smiled sadly up at Grandad.
“We never ate them.”
“Never mind. I’ll put them in the fridge. We might need them tomorrow, I think.” Grandad took the bag, nodding mysteriously, but Sara wasn’t listening.
“Grandad, look! My snow bear’s gone. He’s melted away.”
There was only a shapeless snowy lump left behind. Sara’s eyes filled with tears. Somehow that made it even worse – she didn’t even have a snow bear cub any more. She sniffed and blinked the tears away, and the bright moonlight caught something sparkling in the snow outside the igloo.
Sara reached down and picked up the two pieces of green sea glass that had been her little bear’s eyes. They glowed gently, with the soft green of the Northern Lights. She turned them over in her hand, her eyes widening. They’d changed. The green glow wasn’t just the moonlight on the glass. It was inside, she was sure. And the glass was a different shape now – both pieces were paw prints, a little paw, and a great, heavy paw, soft triangles, edged with a ridge of claws.
Sara slipped them into her pocket. “Grandad? Can I keep the sea glass I used for his eyes?” she asked, smiling to herself.
“Course you can. I wonder why he melted so much faster than the rest of the snow?” Grandad said thoughtfully as they walked towards the house. “I don’t think the roads will be clear till tomorrow morning.”
Sara shook her head. Then she realized what Grandad had said and whirled round, dropping her sleeping bag in the snow. “The roads will be clear? Do you really think they will? You can take me home?”
Grandad picked it up, and put an arm round her. “I think I’d better. Your dad rang my mobile while you were asleep. You need to get home and meet your brother, and I want to spend Christmas with both my grandchildren.” His eyes twinkled.
“Mum’s had the baby already?” Sara gasped.
“Mm-hm. And they’re calling him Peter.” Grandad smiled at her as they hurried into the warmth of the cottage. “Just like my polar bear, Sara. I told you it was your dad’s favourite story too.” He put down the sleeping bag, and took hold of her hands. “You would have loved him, Sara, my little bear. I know it’s silly, but I wish you could have met him.”
Sara nodded, and wrapped her arms round Grandad’s neck.
“I did…” she whispered, very, very quietly.
Copyright
For more information about Holly Webb, visit:
www.holly-webb.com
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2012
Illustrations copyright © Artful Doodlers, 2012
Cover illustration copyright © Simon Mendez, 2012
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978–1–84715–417–0
The right of Holly Webb and Artful Doodlers to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
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