The Last Wilderness Page 11

  There’s so much to think about! But that’s OK, because it’s what bears do.

  Still watched by the woodpecker, Toklo started to dig. He was surprised how hard it was to force his claws through the roots of grass and the hard-packed earth. Oka had made it look so easy, with her huge paws and sharp claws.

  My claws are blunt, Toklo thought, drawing back from the beginnings of his hole to examine them. Oka used to sharpen her claws on a tree where deer had stripped the bark. I guess I’d better do that.

  He set off again. He had to pad many bearlengths further into the forest before he spotted a tree where the bark had been peeled away, exposing the grey trunk beneath. Reaching up as high as he could, Toklo scraped and scraped until his paws were sore and his claws ached.

  ‘That will have to do,’ he panted.

  Looking up at the tree, he suddenly forgot about his throbbing paws. I’ve marked a tree! This is really my territory now. Pride filled him up like rainwater in a curved leaf as he examined the scratches: high up to show how tall he was, deep to show his strong, sharp claws. No bear will mess with me now!

  On his way back to his den site, Toklo marked a few more trees, reaching as high as he could with his front paws. The woodpecker still followed, chattering with annoyance as if it didn’t like the marks Toklo was making.

  ‘Tough!’ Toklo told it. ‘This is my territory now, and these are my trees.’

  Back at his chosen tree, he started digging again. He worked faster now, but it was still hard going. His legs ached and his claws felt as if they were going to drop off. Earth showered everywhere, making his eyes stream and his pelt itch.

  At last Toklo realised that the light in the forest was changing to red. The sun was going down. His den was still only a scoop no deeper than his belly.

  I’m starving! he thought, backing out of the hole and spitting out earth. I’ve got to take a break from digging and find some prey.

  Wincing as he put his sore paws to the ground, he shambled down the slope to the stream and jumped from rock to rock until he found a small pool.

  Toklo leaped in, relishing the cool shock of the water as it rinsed his fur. Tiny silver shapes darted away from him. Revived by the water, Toklo pounced, slapping his paw down on one of the fish and feeling it wriggle against his pad. Thrusting his snout into the stream, he bit into the fish and swallowed it.

  The fish was small, but its taste tingled in his mouth. Toklo waded further into the pool, managing to catch more of the tiny fish, until the survivors had all fled into the unreachable shallows around the edge or into crevices among the rocks.

  Finally Toklo heaved himself out of the stream too tired to hunt any more. He padded back upstream and climbed the slope to curl up in his unfinished den. Satisfaction surged over him. He didn’t care that the den wasn’t finished. It was his, in his own territory, and he had eaten prey he had caught himself.

  The den felt cold without Kallik, Lusa and Ujurak curled up beside him, but Toklo wriggled deeper into the hole, out of the chill night wind, and was comforted by the familiar scents of earth and trees and halfburied roots. Soon his eyes closed and he slept.

  The next morning Toklo bounded out of his den, determined to get on with his digging, but his paws were sore, and the muscles on his shoulders felt as if they were on fire. When he started to scrape at the earth again he found it was much harder to make progress. He kept coming up against roots and had to push his snout into the hole and bite them through.

  I’m fed up with this! he thought, backing out of the den with a long, gnarled root in his jaws. He dropped it and pawed at his mouth to try to get rid of some of the dirt. I’m going to take a break and explore some more.

  He set off up the mountain, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees and warming his fur. Before long he came upon a deer trail, the scent strong and recent, and further on he picked up traces of ground squirrels.

  When he reached the top of the ridge the forest was denser, the trees mostly the same dark pines as where Toklo had made his den. Sometimes he had to push his way through undergrowth, making a path for himself. The air was quiet and hushed, with few birds calling. Toklo found that he was looking around for the woodpecker.

  Bee-brain! he scolded himself. It’s only a stupid bird.

  There was a bitter chill in the air in spite of the sunlight, and where the rays didn’t penetrate, the earth beneath Toklo’s paws crunched with frost. Beginning to feel thirsty, he looked for a stream, but he couldn’t find one or hear the sound of running water anywhere.

  I don’t want this part of the forest in my territory, he decided.

  Leaving scratches on a few trees, he headed back towards his den, padding along the ridge to descend by a different path. Further along, he followed the scents of grass and clear air and emerged in an open meadow. Rabbits were feeding a few bearlengths away.

  Toklo tried to creep up on them, but his sore paws made him clumsy. The rabbits started up and fled, their white tails bobbing through the grass. Toklo gave chase, but his muscles ached so much that they easily outdistanced him.

  Huffing in annoyance, Toklo gave up and padded back towards the trees. Before he reached them, he almost tripped over the body of a ground squirrel. Its pelt was slashed as if a hawk had killed it and then dropped it. Toklo sniffed it warily; it smelled fresh, and he tore into it.

  ‘It’s not as good as prey I caught myself,’ he mumbled around a mouthful. ‘But it’s better than nothing.’ And it shows this is a good territory, he added to himself. There’s plenty of prey here to feed me.

  His belly comfortably full, Toklo settled down in the shade at the edge of the trees and snoozed with his nose on his paws. A grunt roused him; blinking, he raised his head to see another brown bear nosing its way out of the trees a few bearlengths away. It was a young male, a bit smaller than Toklo, with powerful muscles and a frosting of gold on the surface of its fur. So far it hadn’t seen him.

  ‘Hey!’ Toklo growled, standing up. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The other bear whipped round. His fur bristled. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘This is my territory,’ Toklo told him. ‘Didn’t you see the clawmarks?’

  The other bear huffed scornfully. ‘What, those little scratches? I thought they were made by a ground squirrel.’

  A tide of fury started to mount inside Toklo. My clawmarks are strong and powerful!

  ‘I think you must be blind,’ he snarled. ‘You can’t see what’s in front of your snout.’

  ‘You’re blind yourself if you think your clawmarks will scare me!’ the newcomer retorted.

  ‘Watch it!’ Toklo took a pace forward. ‘Get out of here or I’ll rip your miserable pelt off.’

  ‘You can try.’ The other bear showed his teeth. ‘Where did you come from, anyway?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’ Toklo padded forward until he stood nose to nose with the stranger. ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘And so am I. I didn’t climb all the way up this ridge to go back because some ground squirrel tells me to.’

  Toklo swiped a paw through the air, close enough to ruffle the other bear’s fur. ‘This is my territory,’ he snarled.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Anger flared up in the newcomer’s eyes. ‘Actually, I think it’s mine.’

  With a roar of fury, Toklo reared up on his hind legs and fell on to the other bear, carrying him off his paws and rolling him in the grass. The other bear fought back fiercely, fastening his teeth into Toklo’s shoulder until Toklo had to break away, panting.

  The two bears circled each other, low growls coming from their throats. Then the other bear darted in, gave Toklo a nip on the leg, and jumped back before Toklo could respond.

  With another roar Toklo leaped at the newcomer. He remembered his fight against Shoteka on the island in Great Bear Lake. This young brown bear was so much smaller, it should have been much easier to defeat him. Instead Toklo found that he couldn’t use his speed and nimble size aga
inst the clumsy strength of his opponent because the stranger was just as fast as he was.

  Toklo found himself fighting desperately with teeth and claws, trading bites and slashes with the intruder. He struggled to keep his footing on the loose stones that rolled beneath his hindpaws.

  I can’t keep this up much longer, he thought as he lashed out again, raking a paw down his opponent’s side. Then new determination surged up inside him. This is the home I’ve been looking for all these moons. I’m not going to let him drive me out!

  Toklo summoned the strength to hurl himself at the other bear again. This time the bear jumped backward and stood glaring at him.

  ‘This isn’t the end,’ he spat, his sides heaving as he fought to catch his breath. ‘You’re a stranger here. I can tell by the way you smell, and your fur’s too dark for these parts. These mountains will never belong to you.’ He began to pad away, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you again,’ he warned.

  ‘Not if you know what’s good for you!’ Toklo called after him.

  He watched the bear retreating towards the other side of the ridge until the trees swallowed him up. Then he turned and began limping back to his den. He was bruised and bleeding. Sinking into the hole, he licked his wounds, wondering what herbs Ujurak would have used.

  There was something with a yellow flower . . .

  But Toklo was too exhausted to go looking for it. Curling up in the shelter of the den, he let himself drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:

  Ujurak

  The beating of the bird’s metal wings gradually grew slower and came to a stop. One of the men in the front seat slid open a panel in the side of the bird and jumped down to the ground. A blast of cold air came in through the gap, carrying unfamiliar scents that made Ujurak wrinkle his nose.

  ‘OK, Ujurak,’ the Senator said. ‘This is where we get off.’

  Looking out through the window, Ujurak saw that the metal bird was standing on a wide stretch of flat ground, with a large flat-face den at one side. The ground was covered with the same sort of hard stuff as a BlackPath. Several BlackPaths led away from it, and in the distance a white firebeast was snarling along one of them as it headed towards them.

  The strange scents made Ujurak’s head swim. He could smell the metallic scent of the bird, and a tang on the wind that reminded him of firebeasts. From the Senator, who still sat close beside him, Ujurak picked up the soft aroma of his pelts and a spicy scent that came from his face. But there was no scent of earth or water or green things growing.

  I wonder where they’re taking me.

  In his mind he pictured his friends bounding across the mountains to find him, with Toklo in the lead. Trying to ignore his weakness and the pain in his throat, he managed to smile. Come quick, my friends, he thought.

  Under cover of the blanket, he slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out one of the charms the healer had given him in the Arctic Village.

  The white firebeast snarled to a halt where the BlackPath led on to the flat ground not far from the metal bird. Two male flat-faces jumped out of it and one of them pulled open doors at the back. The other strode over to the bird and looked in through the door.

  ‘You must be Ujurak?’ he said.

  Ujurak nodded. The male looked friendly enough; he was tall and lanky, with a mop of red fur on top of his head.

  ‘Hi, Ujurak. I’m Tom,’ he said. ‘We’re going to take care of you from here, OK?’

  With the Senator’s help manoeuvring him through the door, Tom picked up Ujurak and carried him to the firebeast. On the way, Ujurak opened his hand and let the tiny carved bear drop to the ground.

  Please, spirits, guide my friends to me.

  Tom lifted Ujurak through the doors at the back of the white firebeast and laid him on a bed inside. Ujurak gripped the blanket tightly, struggling with fear. There were no windows here, and in a moment they would close the doors and he would be shut in.

  Are they feeding me to the firebeast?

  The Senator leaned in through the open doors, smiling down at Ujurak. ‘You’re in good hands now,’ he said. His voice was kind, so different from the harsh tones he had used in the big den in the village. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll get you fixed up. Try to relax.’

  Ujurak was slightly reassured. ‘I will,’ he whispered.

  The Senator reached out and ruffled his head-fur. ‘I’ll check in on you later.’

  Ujurak tried to smile, sensing that the Senator needed to feel he had done the right thing by taking him away from the Arctic Village. He didn’t want to make the Senator angry again.

  The Senator stepped back, glancing at the flat-face called Tom. ‘He’s some kid,’ he said.

  Tom nodded, then stepped into the back of the firebeast with Ujurak. The second flat-face pushed the doors shut. A moment later the firebeast growled into life and Ujurak felt it move off.

  He wasn’t sure how long the journey took. Once he was used to the sound and movement of the firebeast, it was quite soothing, and he was so exhausted that he dozed off for a brief while.

  He roused when the firebeast halted again, and the inrush of cold air as the doors were opened brought him back to full consciousness.

  ‘Here we are, kid,’ Tom announced.

  Ujurak struggled to sit up, but Tom pushed him gently back on to the bed. ‘Lie still,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to do a thing.’

  Surprise surged through Ujurak as Tom and the other flat-face lifted the whole bed out of the firebeast and started to trundle it along. Ujurak realised that it had small round paws, a bit like the huge black paws of the firebeasts.

  A bed with paws! Wait till I tell the others!

  Moments later, Tom pushed the bed up to the doors of a huge white stone den. Ujurak craned his neck to stare; it was bigger than any other den he’d ever seen before. Its walls were filled with shiny squares, reflecting the pale grey sky.

  ‘Welcome to the Eisenhower Medical Center,’ Tom said.

  Ujurak’s belly fluttered with the beginnings of panic. He’d be cut off from his friends for sure once the flat-faces took him in there. He fumbled in the pocket of his pelts and managed to drop another of the carved bears to the ground before he was swept inside the doors, which closed behind him with a hiss.

  Warmth and light enveloped Ujurak as Tom brought his bed to a halt. Sniffing, Ujurak picked up a mixture of unfamiliar scents: he could pick up traces of blood and fear, and even death. His skinny flat-face paws clenched hard as he tried to stay calm.

  Two flat-face females dressed in white pelts headed for Ujurak and looked down at him as they reached his bedside.

  ‘Welcome,’ one of them said. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. We’re here to look after you.’

  For a moment the women and Tom talked together, their voices too soft for Ujurak to make out what they were saying. While he waited, he looked around. The walls of the huge den were white, like the outside. Off to one side, more flat-faces were working inside a kind of cage made of the same transparent stuff that was in the gaps in the wall. Chairs lined the walls, and there was a table that held a huge bunch of flowers; the flower heads were the biggest Ujurak had ever seen, and their colours much brighter than the flowers he knew in the wild.

  Flat-faces even have special kinds of flowers!

  A touch on his shoulder distracted him; Ujurak looked up to see Tom smiling at him. ‘I gotta scoot now, Ujurak,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you later.’ With a last squeeze of Ujurak’s shoulder, he strode away, his feet making little squeaks on the floor.

  One of the females bent over Ujurak, adjusting his blanket. ‘So you’re the mystery boy,’ she said with a smile.

  The other female was smiling too. ‘Hey, Ujurak,’ she said in a kind voice.

  One of the women took hold of his bed and pushed it down a long passage; the other flat-face walked beside her. They talked to each other, their voices quick and light. Unable to follow what they sa
id, Ujurak stared around as he was wheeled along. Through open doors he spotted other flat-faces lying in beds, covered with white blankets.

  It’s peaceful here, he thought, trying to push down the last traces of his fear. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

  Near the end of the passage the flat-face pushing his bed wheeled it into a tiny room with metal walls; the door slid shut behind them, leaving him trapped there with the two females. His feelings of peace faded abruptly; his heart began to race with alarm and he tried to sit up.

  Are they keeping me a prisoner here?

  ‘Take it easy, Ujurak,’ one of the females said. ‘It’s only the elevator.’

  She touched something on one of the walls, and Ujurak thought he could sense movement, though he couldn’t see anything. Then the door slid open again and the female pushed him out into the passage again – but it was a different passage! Ujurak’s eyes stretched wide in wonder. These flat-faces are amazing!

  Further down this new passage the female pushed him into a much smaller room, with a bed and a window hung with more of the brightly coloured pelts. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Now we can have a good look at you.’

  Gently the two flat-faces took off the pelts Ujurak had taken from the village, and dressed him in a different set, made of a fine, soft fabric, pale green like young leaves. Then they helped him into the bed and covered him with white blankets.

  Once he was settled, one of the women left. ‘I’ll see you later, Ujurak,’ she promised with a wave of her hand.

  The other woman bent over him and took his wrist; she held it for a few moments while she stared at some flat-face thing pinned to her pelt. ‘Hmm . . .’ she murmured as she released him.