by Erin Hunter
Suddenly, a vicious snarl ripped through the peace.
Toklo froze, sniffing for scent. Had the black bear spotted him?
A frightened yelp answered the snarl. “Stop, Hakan! Leave me alone!” It was the cry of a she-bear. Toklo raced toward the sounds, crashing into a shallow clearing.
Toklo recognized the black bear from earlier. He was growling at a smaller bear as she cowered against a tree. She was a black bear, too, not much bigger than Lusa.
“No, Hakan!”
Her eyes widened with horror as Hakan stretched up on his hind legs and swiped at her.
Toklo snarled. “Leave her alone!”
Hakan snapped his head around. “You again?” He turned on Toklo. “I thought I’d told you to get lost. This is none of your business!”
“It’s always my business when I see a bear picking an unfair fight,” Toklo growled.
The she-bear wriggled out from behind Hakan. “It’s okay! Really.”
“Yeah,” Hakan sneered. “Get out of here. I’m sick of chasing you off.”
Toklo smelled blood and saw a patch of red welling on the she-bear’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere until I know she’ll be safe.”
“I’m safe now.” The she-bear shook out her fur.
Toklo stared at her bleeding ear. “It doesn’t look like it.”
She swiped a paw over her wound, smearing the scarlet beads. “Look, I’m fine. Okay?”
“Of course you’re fine.” Hakan jerked his nose toward the trees. “Now, get out of here, Chenoa. And next time you want to leave the territory just because you feel like it, let me know first, so I can come and get you out of trouble.”
“Fine!” Chenoa stomped away through the trees.
The black bear watched Chenoa disappear, then swung around to face Toklo. “Don’t mess with things you don’t know about. If my sister doesn’t stay inside my territory, I can’t keep her safe.”
She’s your kin! Toklo’s thoughts flashed back to the day his mother, mad with grief, had driven him away. Oka’s cruelty still shocked him, and he never imagined there might be other bears who would behave like that toward their family. Anger pulsed beneath his pelt. He suddenly felt fiercely protective of Chenoa. “You didn’t look like you were keeping her very safe just now.”
Hakan flexed his shoulders. “She should listen to me. She’s young, and I know what’s best for her. I’ve raised her since our mother was crushed by a firebeast—” He broke off, his eyes suddenly glittering with grief. “Get out of here. This is my territory! If I see you here again, I’ll rip your fur off!” He lashed out furiously at Toklo.
Toklo sidestepped, and Hakan’s paws thumped bare earth.
“Okay, I’m going!” Toklo turned away. He didn’t want to fight. Hakan was smaller than him. Besides, he understood the pain of losing a mother. Toklo paused. But what about Chenoa? She’d lost her mother, too. How could Hakan be so unkind to her? Anger tightened his chest and he glanced over his shoulder, wondering whether to remind this bear what a ripped ear felt like. He crushed the urge and walked away, muttering, “You’re not worth the fight.”
“Not worth the fight?” came a bellow behind him.
Pain burst through Toklo’s body as claws raked his rump. Shocked, he dropped and rolled. Hakan lunged at him again. Scrambling to his paws, Toklo escaped just in time, but Hakan still came for him.
Toklo reared onto his hind legs, claws stretched out. How does this bear think he can win?
Hakan rose to meet him. “I’ll show you who’s not worth the fight!” Eyes blazing, the black bear swiped at Toklo.
Toklo knocked away a blow, then another, but a third caught his cheek. Pain seared through his face, and blood welled around his eyes. He staggered backward and dropped onto all fours.
Hakan glared at him. “Had enough?”
Fury pulsed through Toklo. “Back off before I hurt you.”
Hakan roared and swung at Toklo. His paw thumped Toklo’s ear. Toklo stepped away, thinking fast. He needed to end this fight, but he didn’t want to hurt Hakan too badly, not if his sister really did need him for protection. Ducking, he nipped at Hakan’s hind legs.
“You fight like a wolverine!” Hakan swung a forepaw at him.
Toklo struck the black bear’s chest before the jab reached him. Hakan staggered backward, gasping. Toklo lunged after him and swiped again. He landed a blow on Hakan’s shoulder. He held back his full strength, but it was enough to knock Hakan sideways.
Shock sparked in the black bear’s gaze. He staggered as he fought to keep his balance. Had he finally realized he’d taken on a bear twice his size?
“Get out of here,” Toklo snarled. “Before I really shred you.” Pain flashed in the wound on his cheek.
“Don’t think you’ve won.” Hakan puffed out his chest. “Next time I won’t give up so easily.” Growling under his breath, he limped away between the trees.
Toklo shifted his paws uneasily. Even though the black bear had started the fight, he didn’t like that he’d come close to hurting a bear smaller than he was just for the sake of proving his strength. He pushed his way through a clump of ragweed and padded onto a soft stretch of moss.
“Hello.”
A whisper from the ragweed made him jump.
“Who is it?”
The younger black bear crept out and stopped in front of him. Toklo remembered Hakan had called her Chenoa. “Thanks for sticking up for me,” she said. Her gaze clouded as it flicked over Toklo. “Are you hurt? Did Hakan do this?”
Toklo lifted his head. “It’s just a few scratches.”
Her eyes were as round as Lusa’s. “You fought for me?”
“It wasn’t for you.” Toklo wished she’d go away and stop staring at him. His fight with Hakan had been dumb. His pelt bristled hotly. “Has your brother always been such a sore-paw?”
“I guess so.” Chenoa tilted her head to one side. “He’s been worse since I killed our mother.”
“You killed your mother?” Toklo choked on the words. “But Hakan said a firebeast killed her.”
“It did.” Chenoa’s eyes glittered with pain. “But it was my fault.” She paused to take a trembling breath. “I was on a BlackPath and I tripped.” She dropped her gaze. “My mother came back to help me, and that’s when the firebeast hit her.” Her voice thickened as if grief choked her. “Hakan was watching from the trees. He said it was my fault. He says only I’d be stupid enough to trip on a BlackPath.”
Toklo wanted to say something to make her feel better, but the young bear was lost in her misery.
“He doesn’t need to keep blaming me!” she hissed. “I know it was my fault. I know I’m clumsy and stupid, and if I wasn’t such a wrong-paw, our mother would still be alive.” Her eyes flashed with anger as she lifted her head and glared at Toklo.
What can I say? Toklo gazed back at her. Chenoa must have been just a cub when it happened. It wasn’t her fault. “My brother died,” he blurted. Perhaps if she knew that bad things happened to everyone, she wouldn’t feel so bad. “Tobi was my littermate. He was always sick. I tried to play with him. I tried to teach him to hunt, but he was never strong enough. I was angry that he slowed us down. And then he died and after that, my mother didn’t want me anymore.” He paused, suddenly breathless.
Chenoa gazed at him, wide-eyed. “She didn’t want you? Why?”
Toklo swallowed. He didn’t want to think about it. “Because …” He groped for words. “I guess she was scared I was going to die, too.” He stiffened, surprised how much had tumbled out to this unknown bear.
Chenoa blinked. “That must have been terrible.”
“It was.”
“I guess I still have Hakan.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good thing.”
“He means well,” Chenoa insisted. “But he doesn’t realize that I’m not a cub anymore.”
Toklo looked her up and down. She wasn’t exactly a full-grown bear, either.
She went on, lifting her muzzle. “I can’t stay here forever. I need a territory of my own, or I’ll never be able to look after myself.” She eyed Toklo, suddenly curious. “Where’s your territory, by the way? I don’t recognize your scent.”
Toklo glanced over his shoulder. The others would be missing him. “We’ve been traveling.”
“We?”
“Me and Lusa, Kallik, and Yakone. And Ujurak.” He stopped, the pain in his cheek suddenly numb as his mind swirled. He missed Ujurak. The young bear had left them moons ago, but his spirit was still traveling with them. He had been a special bear, like no other. When he’d been alive, he had changed into other creatures, shifting his shape to become whales or birds—whatever he wanted. And now he still visited in dreams and visions.
Toklo tugged his thoughts back to Chenoa. She was watching him with round eyes. “We’ve been to the Endless Ice, and now we’re traveling home. Well, Lusa and I are going home. Kallik and Yakone are traveling with us till we get there.”
Chenoa gazed at him steadily. “Where is your home?”
“In the mountains. I was born there.”
Chenoa sat down. “You’ve really been to the Endless Ice?” Her words were hardly more than a breath. “Everyone’s heard of it, but I never believed it existed.” She stared away through the trees. “I’d like to travel, far away from here. Perhaps if I wasn’t around, Hakan wouldn’t be so angry all the time.”
Toklo wasn’t convinced. “Really?”
“I remind him of our mother.” Chenoa shrugged.
Toklo stared at the young bear. She looked more like a cub than a mother. “I’ve got to get back to my friends.” His pelt prickled. This wasn’t his problem. He wanted to get home. “We need to move on.”
Chenoa jumped to her paws. “I could show you the way.”
“No, thanks.” Toklo turned away. “We’re following the river.” He began clambering away over the mossy hummocks. “Don’t let Hakan push you around,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s a big territory. Stay out of his way.”
He broke into a run, bounding between the trees, his scratches stinging once more. The air tasted damp with dew, and the shadows were growing longer. Toklo bushed his fur out against the evening chill as he hurried from the trees. They’d have to move fast. He wanted to be clear of Hakan’s territory before nightfall. There wasn’t time for any distractions.
He crossed the sedge, climbed the rocks edging the pebbly beach, and paused. Below, Lusa was scampering around Kallik, the stones clattering beneath her paws. Toklo glanced over his shoulder. Had Chenoa followed him? He searched the shadows of the forest. Nothing moved among the trees.
Good.
He didn’t have time to worry about other bears. Shaking out his fur, he jumped down onto the beach.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kallik
“Where have you been?” Kallik hurried to meet Toklo as he landed on the pebbles. The scent of blood hit her nose. “What happened?” His cheek was scratched, and clumps stuck out of his fur. Kallik’s pelt prickled with worry. “Did something attack you?” She glanced toward the forest. Were there more bears there?
“It was that black bear,” Toklo huffed.
Kallik blinked in surprise. The bear had acted tough when they’d met him earlier, but he must be crazy to attack a brown bear.
Lusa bounded over. “Are you okay, Toklo?”
Kallik shifted her paws. “He had a run-in with that black bear.”
“I had no choice.” Toklo’s pelt was still ruffled. “He started it because I told him to stop bullying his sister. He nearly ripped her ear off.”
Lusa’s eyes widened. “He attacked his sister?”
Yakone was dozing in the shade of the cave. He opened an eye. “What’s going on?” His nose twitched. “Who’s bleeding?”
“Toklo.” Kallik sniffed Toklo’s stained ear. “He had a fight with that black bear.”
Yakone sat up. “So you did chase him off after all. I thought you—”
“He started it,” Toklo interrupted him.
Lusa paced in front of the cave. “Toklo was defending another bear.”
“His sister,” Toklo explained. “Hakan was angry with her for trying to leave his territory.”
Kallik bristled. “Surely she can go where she likes?”
Toklo frowned. “Chenoa’s only one suncircle old. Hakan thinks she has to do what he says.”
Lusa dragged her claws through the pebbles. “I knew he was a bully the first time we saw him.”
Toklo turned away and gazed at the sky. “The sun’s sinking,” he growled. “We should get moving.”
Kallik watched Toklo’s pelt twitch. Was he uncertain about leaving? “We can stay if you’re worried about Chenoa,” she offered.
Toklo’s pelt twitched harder. “If Chenoa wants to leave, she can leave by herself. She doesn’t need us.”
Kallik shifted on the pebbles uncertainly. It wasn’t like Toklo to ignore a bear in trouble. “Why don’t you go splash in the river before we leave? The water will cool your wounds.”
“I’m fine.” Toklo looked away.
“It’ll just take a minute,” she urged. “You can wash Hakan’s stench off.”
Growling under his breath, Toklo stalked into the river.
Lusa looked at Kallik. “Why’s he so grumpy?” She watched Toklo as he stood stiffly in the water, waves washing his back.
“I’m not sure.” Kallik felt a wave of sympathy for the young brown bear. The call of home must be getting stronger now that he was surrounded by woodland scents. Was he torn between moving on and staying to help Chenoa? “Come on, slow-paw.” She dipped her head to Lusa. “Let’s get moving.”
Yakone hauled himself to his paws as the sun slowly sank behind the distant treetops. Shadows slid across the shore. Kallik relished the chill. She padded across the beach and leaped onto the rocks. They were smooth, but her pads still stung. She was used to the numbing coldness of ice; without it, every scratch and blister stung like fire.
Lusa scrambled up the rocks after her. “Aren’t we waiting for Toklo?”
“He’ll catch up when he’s ready.” Kallik glanced back. Toklo was on the beach, shaking water from his pelt.
Yakone fell in beside her, gazing at the tree line as they passed. “I can’t wait till we get back to the ice.”
Kallik nudged him affectionately with her shoulder as they walked. “I’m looking forward to our first burn-sky together.”
“We can hunt for each other,” Yakone murmured. “And watch the sun climb over our heads.”
“Be careful where you walk,” Kallik cautioned. The stones were smooth, but there were still plenty of cracks and crevices to catch careless paws.
Yakone ignored her. He was busy planning their future. “When snow-sky comes, we can share an ice-den and stay warm.” His paws slid suddenly from under him and thumped against a rock.
Kallik saw pain cloud his gaze.
“Spirits help me!” Yakone sounded more angry than hurt. “How did you survive your journey to the Endless Ice? Terrain like this is enough to break a bear’s claws.”
Lusa dodged ahead of them. “You’ll get used to it.”
“So you keep saying.” Yakone rubbed grit from his pads. “I guess if you and Toklo can get used to ice, then I can get used to rocks.”
Lusa scampered around him. “You might even get used to having warm paws!”
“Warm paws?” Kallik chuffed, amused by Lusa’s enthusiasm. “Never!”
The shore between forest and river grew narrower. Kallik let Yakone take the lead as the bears slipped into single file and began to thread their way around the jutting tree roots.
Kallik glanced over her shoulder. Toklo had almost caught up to them. As he fell in behind her, she heard him sniffing the air. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
“I don’t want to stumble into another bear’s territory,” he growled.
As Yakone picked up the pace, Ka
llik glanced into the forest. Shadows pressed between the trees. How could bears live in such darkness? She suddenly longed for the wide stretches of the Endless Ice.
Pink clouds streaked the sky and deepened to purple as the sun disappeared. Before long they were walking through nightfall. Kallik’s unease grew with every pawstep. At least there was more room beside the water as the trees drew back from the shore, and the river widened and calmed. Toklo hardly spoke, his attention fixed on the forest. Yakone was stomping along, growling each time he stumbled or his paws slid on loose rocks.
Only Lusa moved with ease, but even she was quiet.
Kallik squinted, trying to see the way ahead. The shore was hidden in shadow, and stones jabbed her pads. “We should rest,” she suggested.
“Yes, please,” Yakone puffed.
Kallik’s shoulders loosened. Weariness flooded her.
“I’ll find shelter.” Toklo disappeared into the trees.
“I’m not sleeping in the forest!” Yakone called after him. “I can hardly breathe in there.”
Toklo stuck his head out. “We can’t sleep on stones.”
Kallik felt tension spark between the two bears. They were both tired and sore, Toklo from his fight, Yakone from days of paw-slips on the rough terrain.
“What about here?” called Lusa.
Kallik felt a rush of relief as Lusa scrambled across the rocks and stopped beside a straggling juniper bush that spilled out from the tree line.
Gingerly the black bear climbed onto the low, springy branches. “It’s soft!” she called.
Yakone lumbered over and scrambled in beside her. “It’s spiky, but not bad.”
Toklo huffed wearily. “I guess we can sleep in the open.” He circled beside Lusa, then settled on the juniper.
