River of Lost Bears

by Erin Hunter

  Chenoa glanced backward as they followed the curve of the river. Toklo guessed she was hoping Hakan would appear to say a kinder farewell. She’s got more faith in him than he deserves. He looked back, too, relieved that there was no sign of the bad-tempered bear.

  Chenoa dragged her paws, but Toklo didn’t hurry her. Leaving Hakan was probably the biggest decision she’d ever made. But when her steps slowed more, worry pricked at his pelt. She couldn’t change her mind now. Hakan would never stop bullying her.

  “Let’s fish,” Toklo suggested. It might cheer her up. He waded into the river. The shallows here raced over smooth rock. “Come on.”

  Chenoa lingered on the shore.

  “You must be hungry,” Toklo prompted. “You never got a chance to finish your fishing.”

  “I guess.” Chenoa splashed into the water and stopped beside him. “This is a good spot.”

  Fish flashed past, swept over the smooth rock by the current. Toklo plunged his paws onto one, growling as he missed. The water moved faster than he expected. Chenoa snorted, amused, then made her own lunge. She hooked out a fish and tossed it to the shore.

  Toklo watched it flap on the rocks. “You’re quick!” He was impressed.

  “I’m used to fishing this river.”

  “I guess I’m out of practice.” Toklo shrugged. “I’ve spent too much time sitting beside ice holes and waiting for the fish to come to me.”

  Chenoa stared at him. “I can’t imagine you on the ice. Kallik and Yakone grew up there, but it must have been horrible for you and Lusa.”

  “It is good to be back in the forest,” Toklo conceded.

  “I’ll bet!” Chenoa swung her head, taking in the wide sweep of trees and river. “The ice must be weird without forests or hills. Isn’t it spooky, all that whiteness?”

  Toklo let his thoughts drift back to the Melting Sea. “When you get used to the white, you see other colors there.” He huffed. “You have to look pretty hard, though.”

  The fish had stopped flapping on the shore.

  “Let’s take our catch back to the others,” Chenoa suggested. “I can’t wait to see Lusa!”

  Toklo bounded toward the bank. “Yeah.” He appreciated the way Chenoa was eager to share her catch with Kallik, Yakone, and Lusa. He was glad Lusa had persuaded him to go back. Chenoa was going to make a good traveling companion.

  Night had fallen by the time they reached the others. Toklo spotted Lusa first, a black smudge pacing on the moonlit shore, and then Yakone, standing in the river. Kallik was sleeping in a nest of twigs and leaves.

  “Chenoa!” Lusa limped toward them, her eyes flashing in the starlight. “You came!”

  Chenoa rushed forward and touched Lusa’s muzzle with her own. “Thanks for letting me.”

  Yakone called from the river, “Chenoa’s here!”

  “Chenoa!” Kallik scrambled to her paws, shaking leaves from her pelt. Chenoa galloped to greet her.

  Lusa nestled against Toklo. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He nudged her playfully. “You can rescue the next bear yourself,” he teased.

  They padded after Chenoa. “Did you see Hakan?” Lusa asked.

  Toklo rolled his eyes. “He saw me first.”

  Lusa stiffened. “Did you fight?” Her gaze swept Toklo’s pelt.

  “Yeah.” Toklo shrugged. He lowered his voice as they reached Chenoa and the others. “But it was okay. Chenoa was the brave one. She stood up to him, perhaps for the first time.”

  Kallik was gazing at the sky. “Shall we travel, while the moon’s bright?”

  Toklo scanned the horizon. Clouds bubbled ominously. He tasted rain in the air. It would be a good idea to push on before it hit them. “Are you okay to walk?” he asked Lusa.

  She stretched her hind legs, wincing a little. “Walking might help,” she told him. “I’m getting stiff from resting.”

  Yakone led the way. Toklo stayed close to Chenoa, while Kallik and Lusa brought up the rear.

  “It’s almost like traveling over ice,” Yakone commented as he padded along the moonlit stone.

  “Except you can’t fall through it,” Toklo grunted.

  Chenoa stared at him with round eyes. “You didn’t!”

  “I did.” Toklo shivered at the memory of the shocking coldness.

  “Ujurak rescued him,” Lusa called from behind.

  Chenoa swallowed. “Ujurak must have been a brave bear!”

  Her voice faded as memory swallowed Toklo. He was back in the freezing ocean, lungs bursting and panic roaring in his ears as he scrabbled at the jagged ice above his head. And then Ujurak had appeared, not as a bear, but as an orca. He’d been so huge; Toklo thought his heart would explode from fear. Powerful and swift, the Ujurak-orca had swept Toklo from beneath the ice and lifted him safely onto the surface.

  Chenoa’s voice broke into his memories. “How did he save you?”

  Toklo shook away the fear flashing through his pelt. “He just jumped in and hauled me out.”

  Rain darkened the forest ahead. Before long it was beating against Toklo’s muzzle. He called to Yakone through the rising wind. “Let’s stop here.”

  Yakone nodded and turned his paws toward the trees. “I prefer snow,” he grunted, his ears flat against his head. He led Kallik, Lusa, and Chenoa through a swathe of brambles at the forest’s edge until they were sheltering under the pines. “It sits on your fur; it doesn’t try to get inside your pelt.”

  Toklo shook water from his snout. Above, rain thrummed the trees, but only a few drops made it through the thick branches. He headed deeper into the shadows until, among the clustering trunks, he found a shallow scoop in the earth, soft with a thick coat of pine needles. “Over here.”

  Kallik caught up with him and padded down into the dip. “Nice find, Toklo.” She settled down, and Yakone nestled beside her.

  Chenoa curled up near the edge, wriggling to get comfortable. She scrabbled at the needles, hollowing her own nest. There was something awkward in her movements, as though she felt out of place. Toklo hesitated, wondering if he should curl up next to her.

  Lusa beat him to it. She scrambled down beside Chenoa. “You must miss your own den.” She nestled beside the she-bear. “But you’ll get used to sleeping in a new place every night.”

  “I hope so.” Chenoa tucked her nose under her paws.

  As her breath grew shallow with sleep, Toklo clambered down the slope and curled up beside Lusa. “Will she be okay?” he whispered.

  “She’s with friends now,” Lusa murmured. “She’ll be fine.”

  Soothed, Toklo closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him.

  A twig cracked beside his ear. Alarmed, Toklo jerked up his head and growled.

  “It’s just me.” Chenoa was gazing down on him, glowing in the pale dawn light. Rain was still pattering on the branches, and Chenoa’s black pelt was dripping. “Did you think I was a wolverine?” Her eyes flashed teasingly.

  Toklo scrambled to his paws. “No.” Kallik, Yakone, and Lusa were still sleeping. “How long have you been up?”

  Chenoa shrugged. “Before sunup. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Toklo smelled fish. “Have you been hunting?”

  Chenoa lifted her muzzle toward a pile gathered at the top of the hollow. “I thought I’d make myself useful.”

  “You don’t have to hunt for us.” Toklo climbed the slope and sniffed the fish. They were still wet from the river. His mouth watered.

  Chenoa bent and nosed one toward him. “I was standing in the shallows, and they kept leaping into my paws,” she joked. “It seemed rude to ignore them.”

  Toklo crouched and began eating. His belly rumbled happily. Chenoa sat beside him and gazed down into the hollow. Toklo watched her from the corner of his eyes. She seemed distracted. “Are you okay?” he mumbled through a mouthful of fish.

  “I guess.” She sighed. “I wonder how Hakan is.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Toklo promised. “And this won’t
always seem so strange. The traveling, I mean. We all found it hard at first.”

  Chenoa let out a slow breath. “Don’t you miss having a home?”

  “I’ll have one soon,” Toklo told her.

  Yakone jerked his head up, nose twitching. “I smell fish.”

  Kallik scrambled to her paws in the hollow. “Have you been up long?” she called to Toklo.

  “I just woke.” Toklo tossed a fish down to the white bears. “Chenoa caught this.”

  “Thanks, Chenoa.” Yakone caught a second fish as Toklo tossed it down.

  Kallik nosed Lusa gently. “How are you today?”

  She raised her head, yawning. “Hungry.”

  “That’s a good sign.” Kallik looked up at Toklo.

  “It is.” He flung Lusa a fish. “How’s the pain?”

  “Better than yesterday.” Lusa took a bite from the fish. She screwed up her nose and grimaced. “I can’t wait for berry season.”

  When they’d eaten, Toklo led the way out of the forest. As he broke from the trees, rain lashed his face. He glanced back at Yakone and Kallik. They were going to hate this weather. Lusa was limping. Had she lied about the pain in her rump?

  Chenoa must have noticed, too. “I’ll look out for more hornwort,” she promised.

  Lusa looked gratefully at her. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to be carried?” Kallik offered.

  Lusa shook her head. “I’ll manage.”

  Toklo watched her anxiously as he padded onto the shore. Were her wounds healing? The mountains were tugging harder in his belly, but he didn’t want Lusa to suffer. Should they rest until she was better? At least there was food and shelter here. What if Lusa collapsed when they reached the mountains? There were stretches of barren rock where prey and herbs were scarce.

  With worry prickling in his fur, Toklo pushed on. He kept one eye on Lusa as she followed beside Chenoa. The rocks were wet with rain and slippery underpaw. They made slow progress upstream. Yakone didn’t complain, but Toklo saw him sliding and stubbing his claws with winces of pain. Kallik padded carefully beside him, stopping every now and then to shake the rain from her eyes.

  Toklo felt a wet pelt brush his. Chenoa had caught up with him. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier walking in the forest?” Water dripped from Chenoa’s snout and eyelashes.

  “Kallik and Yakone aren’t used to the roots and brambles yet,” Toklo told her. “They manage better here. They won’t yank out a claw or twist a paw.”

  Chenoa glanced back at the two white bears slithering over a smooth, wet boulder. “Are you sure?”

  Toklo glanced up at the gray clouds. “I’m sorry about the weather.”

  “Not your fault,” Chenoa pointed out.

  “We’re just used to traveling whatever the conditions.”

  “What’s the hurry?” Chenoa asked. “Are you hoping to be home before cold-earth?”

  Toklo snorted. “I hope I’m home way before that.”

  “So what’s the rush?”

  “If we waited out every bad-weather day, we’d never have made it to the Endless Ice.”

  “Why did you go there in the first place?”

  Toklo stopped and stared, not listening to Chenoa’s question. Ahead, a flat stone bridge spanned the river. Its legs sank into the frothing water. Firebeasts roared across its back. “We’re going to have to cross a BlackPath,” he called over his shoulder. He saw Yakone’s fur spike.

  “Do we have to?” Lusa queried.

  “The current’s too strong to swim under it.” Toklo eyed the river churning angrily beneath the bridge. He padded forward, following the shore till the shadow of the raised BlackPath was a bearlength away. Then he veered into the cover of the trees. They thinned here, where the bridge jutted into the forest. The roar and stink of firebeasts filled the air. Toklo smelled fear and knew it wasn’t just his own. No one spoke as they padded over the forest floor. Then light showed ahead, and the trees opened onto a bracken-covered stretch at the edge of the BlackPath.

  “Wait.” Toklo stared at the hard, dark surface. A firebeast sped past, sending up a shower of filthy water. He watched the gap that followed it, feeling for its length before the next firebeast.

  “They’re huge,” Chenoa breathed beside him.

  This BlackPath was as wide as a river. Toklo guessed that its firebeasts were bigger than any Chenoa had seen on the sheltered BlackPaths in the deep forest. Their faces flashed, wide and shiny. The ground shook beneath their spinning paws. Another thundered past, spraying Toklo’s fur and washing his snout with choking fumes. Chenoa retched beside him. He glanced at her. Her eyes were streaming, her rain-soaked pelt slick against her body. She suddenly looked as small as a newborn cub.

  Will she make it across?

  Toklo lifted his muzzle. He’d get her across. “Kallik,” he said, glancing past Yakone. The white bear was peering from the trees. “You keep an eye on Lusa.”

  Lusa jerked around, as though she were about to snarl at him. Then she paused and nodded. “Just give us the signal, and I’ll stay close to Kallik.”

  “Chenoa?” Toklo turned to the young she-bear. “Are you ready?” He could see a space behind the next firebeast. It looked like there’d be time for them all to cross together.

  Chenoa didn’t answer. Her wide gaze was fixed on the BlackPath.

  “Just run when I give the order,” Toklo told her.

  The firebeast howled past.

  “Now!” Toklo sprang forward, crashing through bracken, out onto the stone. His claws skidded on the hard, wet surface. The white fur of Kallik and Yakone flashed at the corner of his eyes, shadowed by Lusa’s black pelt.

  Chenoa? He glanced over his shoulder. Where is she?

  “I can’t!” Chenoa stood trembling at the edge of the BlackPath. “I can’t do it!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kallik

  Kallik’s paws thumped heavily over the rain-slicked BlackPath. Toklo, Lusa, and Yakone streaked along beside her. The other side was close. One leap and she’d be clear.

  “Chenoa!”

  Toklo’s panicked cry made Kallik skid to a halt. Through the driving rain, she could see Chenoa still crouching on the other side. “Chenoa! Hurry up!”

  A firebeast thundered over the horizon. Kallik caught Toklo’s gaze. It was wild with panic. “I’ll get her!” she called.

  “No!” Toklo began to turn.

  Kallik glimpsed Lusa stumbling beside Toklo. She doesn’t have the strength to cross on her own! “Help Lusa,” Kallik barked at Toklo. “I’ll go get Chenoa!” She swung around, away from Toklo, Lusa, and Yakone.

  “Kallik! No!”

  She ignored Yakone’s angry howl and raced back for Chenoa.

  “Leave me!” Chenoa cringed, flat against the ground. “Don’t come back!” Her glazed eyes were lost in terror. “You’ll die!”

  The glittering face of the firebeast raced closer. Kallik’s paws burned as she pelted across its path. The stink of it choked her. “Get back!”

  Chenoa was frozen at the edge of the BlackPath as the firebeast thundered closer. It would smash right through her if she stayed where she was. Pushing hard with her hind legs, Kallik leaped and slammed into Chenoa, sending them both tumbling into the bracken.

  The firebeast passed like a hurricane, ripping the stalks nearest to them and tearing at the fur on Kallik’s back. She sprawled on her side, trying to catch her breath. Suddenly she noticed Chenoa struggling beneath her. Rolling off, Kallik filled her lungs with dirty air. Chenoa lay limp beside her.

  “Are you okay?” Kallik thrust her muzzle close to the black bear.

  Chenoa whimpered. “I can’t do it.”

  Kallik bared her teeth. “Yes, you can.” She scrambled to her paws and scanned the BlackPath. Yakone, Toklo, and Lusa sheltered in the trees beyond, watching with round, anxious eyes. “We can’t stay here. We need to move.”

  “I can’t do it,” Chen
oa repeated stubbornly.

  “If you live your whole life without crossing BlackPaths,” Kallik growled, “it’ll be half a life. Like a captured bear. No choice. Just the same small stretch of forest for as long as you live.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Kallik shoved her muzzle under Chenoa’s flank and heaved her to her paws. “I care,” she spat. “We’re crossing that BlackPath. The others need us.”

  Chenoa turned stiffly and gazed at Toklo, Yakone, and Lusa.

  Toklo called across the gap, “Come on, Chenoa. You can do it!”

  “They’re waiting,” Kallik pressed. She felt a glimmer of relief as Chenoa lifted a paw and began to pad to the edge of the black stone. “I’ll make sure you get across,” Kallik promised.

  “And what about you?” The young she-bear’s eyes clouded. “Will you make it?”

  “Of course I will,” Kallik huffed. “I’ve crossed more BlackPaths than you’ve eaten bunchberries.”

  A firebeast roared past. Kallik pressed against Chenoa, keeping her from whirling around and racing back into the trees. The young bear was as stiff as day-old prey.

  “Look.” Kallik pointed her snout to the next firebeast, then to the space beyond it. “We’ll go after this one. There’ll be plenty of time, but hurry.”

  Chenoa nodded her head slowly.

  Kallik took a breath, to calm her own fear. She screwed up her eyes as the firebeast tore past. “Now!” Wind screaming in her ears, she nosed Chenoa onto the BlackPath.

  Chenoa lunged forward.

  “Keep going!” Kallik urged.

  Chenoa plunged ahead, ears flat, head down as she raced for her life. Kallik charged after her, keeping a few steps behind, ready to shove Chenoa forward if she slowed even a pawstep. Blinded by rain, Kallik felt the ground soften beneath her paws. They’d reached the other side!

  Chenoa stumbled into the forest. Lusa rushed to meet her, pressing her muzzle into Chenoa’s ruffled pelt.