The Burning Horizon Read online

  Agony sliced through Lusa’s head again as she tried to raise it, and the sky above her was so dazzlingly bright that it hurt her eyes.

  Toklo, Kallik, Yakone—where are you? What is happening to me?

  Moaning, Lusa let herself drift back into the darkness inside her head. When she woke again, the firebeast was still moving, but she felt strong enough to prop herself up as much as the shiny pelt allowed and look around her, craning her neck to peer over the side of the firebeast’s hollow back. With a start, she saw that they had left the mountains behind and were rolling across a flat plain. Lusa sniffed the air, trying to detect trees or water or anything familiar, but all she could pick up was the eye-watering stench of the firebeast.

  “Where is it taking me?” she whimpered. She remembered the two flat-faces in the forest—a large male and a smaller female—and wondered if they were in the firebeast as well. Had it attacked them all? Or did the firebeast belong to the flat-faces, the way firebeasts often seemed to be commanded by the hairless creatures?

  Desperately thirsty, Lusa drifted in and out of consciousness. Suddenly the firebeast swerved, sending her sliding across its back, before it shuddered to a halt. The rumbling sound died away, and after a moment Lusa could hear flat-face voices. A little while later a flat-face came and looked down at her.

  This was a flat-face Lusa hadn’t seen before, with gray fur around a brown face. All her instincts told her to hide, or to snap at him if he tried to touch her, but his voice was low and kind. Something familiar about his scent reminded Lusa once again of the Bear Bowl, and his soft tones made her relax almost against her will.

  But in spite of her urge to trust this flat-face, Lusa could feel her heart pounding as she looked for a way to escape. I have to get out of here! Then I can find herbs for the pain in my head and start looking for the others.

  The gray-furred flat-face started to peel off the shiny pelt. As soon as Lusa’s legs were freed she lashed out, and the flat-face retreated rapidly. A flat-face cub appeared, looking over the side of the firebeast and squeaking at Lusa, until yet another flat-face pulled the cub away. Then the gray-furred flat-face reappeared, bending over Lusa. She felt something sharp prick her neck, and almost at once shadows began to gather around her and the inside of her head felt like it was filling with fog. Lusa struggled to stay awake, but the shadows overwhelmed her and she slipped away.

  Lusa blinked as she raised her head and tried to work out where she was. As her vision cleared, she made out bars all around her and a roof above her head, clustered with shadows.

  I’m in a cage . . . like the time I was captured on the ice.

  She remembered how back then Ujurak had appeared to her in the shape of a flat-face and rescued her from the flat-faces who had captured her.

  Maybe he’ll help me again, she thought, trying to feel more hopeful. But what if he doesn’t know I’m here?

  With an enormous effort, Lusa managed to sit up. Her muscles shrieked at her as she moved stiffly, and her head still felt full of cloudfluff. The floor of her cage was made of some hard, gray stuff, though the corner where she had been lying was covered by a thick bundle of straw. Beside her was a shiny silver bowl, brimming with water. Lusa managed to get up on shaky legs, plunged her muzzle into the bowl, and took a long, long drink.

  When she looked up again, swiping her tongue around her jaws, she realized that the light around her was fading. But she could still see enough to tell her that she was inside a long, low den lined with cages on either side.

  I need to find a way out. But I’m so tired, and I ache all over. . . .

  Lusa sniffed the stale air, but the scents of so many animals were mingled that she couldn’t tell them apart. She wondered how long she had been asleep since she had seen the flat-faces.

  Her head still throbbed with pain from where the mule had kicked her. Her vision was blurry in the eye on that side, and she staggered a little when she tried to move.

  But I’m not hurt too bad, she told herself firmly. I can keep traveling, if only I can get out of this den.

  Then another scent drifted into her nose. It’s another black bear!

  “Who’s there?” she called, wondering too late if it was safe to raise her voice.

  “Never mind,” came the gruff reply.

  Squinting through the bars on one side of her cage, she could just make out the hunched shape of another black bear. “Do you know the way out of here?” Lusa whispered.

  A long silence followed her words, and Lusa thought she might have somehow offended the other bear. When he finally spoke again, he seemed confused.

  “Way out? Of course there’s no way out! Anyway, why would you or any bear want to leave?”

  Because bears don’t belong in cages! Lusa thought. Why isn’t this bear doing everything he can to escape?

  There was a loud click, and light flooded into Lusa’s cage from a bright white strip overhead. She had to shut her eyes and duck her head against the unexpected glare, while all around her noise broke out: the skittering of claws, flapping of wings, the screeching and roaring of many different creatures.

  Lusa opened her eyes again, and as she got used to the light she caught her breath in astonishment. Though she had scented other animals, she hadn’t realized how daunting it would be to see them. Oh wow . . .

  In the cage on her other side was a coyote biting at the bars that separated them, its cold eyes fixed on her. Lusa shuddered, hoping the bars were too strong for its sharp yellow teeth. On the opposite side of the den, a flock of pigeons were fluttering around an enclosure, and beside them an eagle perched on a branch in a cage, harsh cries coming from its gaping beak. In the next cage along, a raccoon was scrabbling in the straw on the floor. Rhythmic thumping came from farther down the den, on the same side as Lusa so that she couldn’t see what was making the noise, but she guessed that some large animal was throwing itself at the door of its cage, over and over.

  Lusa opened her eyes wide in astonishment. How long have these animals and birds been kept here?

  The black bear in the cage beside Lusa let out a grunt, drawing her attention back to him. Now that she could see him clearly, she made out gray speckles in his fur, and to her surprise his eyes were the same shade of gray, not black and shiny like hers. They stared blankly at Lusa as the bear lifted his head toward her, sniffing.

  “You’re a black bear, aren’t you?” he muttered.

  Why can’t he see that? Lusa wondered. “Are you blind?” she asked tentatively.

  “Oh, aren’t you the clever one?” the other bear growled.

  Lusa’s fur bristled. “There’s no need to be mean!” she snapped.

  Before the other bear could respond, the door to the den opened. The noise from the other creatures grew even louder until Lusa wanted to cover her ears with her paws.

  A pair of flat-faces stepped inside the den and walked right up to Lusa’s cage. One of them was the gray-furred male she had seen before, outside by the firebeast. The other was a smaller female, with the same brown skin and gray head-fur. Both of them stared at Lusa, making strange noises at each other and occasionally pointing at her with their paws. Lusa shrank to the back of the cage, until the cold stone wall pressed against her fur.

  Moving slowly, the male flat-face opened a flap at the bottom of the door of Lusa’s cage and pushed a bowl inside. Closing the flap again, he walked away down the row of cages with the female flat-face at his side. Lusa watched them peering inside the other cages as they murmured to each other.

  She tottered across the cage to investigate the new bowl. Before she reached it, she could pick up the delicious scent of fruit, and her mouth watered.

  “I bet you’re not so eager to leave now, are you?” the old black bear grunted.

  Lusa didn’t reply. Her belly was howling with hunger, especially now that she wasn’t thirsty anymore. But it had been so long since she’d eaten this kind of food, it seemed like it belonged to another life. Memory flashed
into Lusa’s mind of her mother Ashia saying, “Eat, little one! Try the berries first; they’re very juicy.”

  “But I’m a wild bear now!” Lusa protested out loud.

  “Eh? What?” barked the old bear, tilting his head toward her.

  Lusa ignored him and, unable to resist the sweet fruit, pushed her snout into the bowl and took a big mouthful. The fruit’s sweetness thrilled through her, a much stronger taste than she remembered. Mmm . . . wonderful! she thought, her head spinning.

  Gulping down the mouthful, Lusa turned back to the bear in the next cage. “My name’s Lusa,” she told him. “What’s yours?”

  “Taktuq,” he muttered.

  “And what is this place?” Lusa asked him, feeling encouraged that he had answered her question.

  Taktuq shrugged. “It’s my home.”

  Lusa felt a chill run through her fur. “This isn’t another Bear Bowl, is it?”

  The old bear tipped his head on one side as if he didn’t understand. “What’s a Bear Bowl?”

  “It’s a place where lots of bears live,” Lusa replied. “Flat-faces feed them, and other flat-faces come and look at them.”

  “Then this is no Bear Bowl,” Taktuq grunted. “We don’t get flat-faces looking at us, just the ones that feed us.”

  “Then why are all these animals here?” Lusa asked, gazing down the row of creatures again. The coyote had stopped biting the cage bars, though it was still glaring at her; the eagle was shifting on its perch, half raising its wings as if it wanted to fly, while the raccoon still scrabbled among its straw.

  “Most of them have something wrong with them when they arrive,” Taktuq told her. “Some of them leave when they get better, and a few stay—like me.”

  Lusa gulped down the rest of the fruit. “What will happen to me when I get better?” she asked when she had licked sticky juice from her muzzle. “Where will I go?”

  Taktuq shrugged. “How should I know?”

  “Where is this place?” Lusa persisted. “I left my friends in the mountains, and they have to find me. Or I have to find them!”

  “You’re a long way from the mountains now,” Taktuq told her. “Unless your friends are caribou? They pass near here at this season.” He paused, letting out a long sigh. “I remember hearing the caribou with my mother,” he murmured. “So many hooves clicking past . . . Vast herds of animals, traveling, traveling. I wanted to go with them, but my mother wouldn’t let me. I used to think it was because I couldn’t see.”

  Lusa looked at the old bear, studying his unseeing eyes. As if he was conscious of her gaze, Taktuq let out a bitter chuff of amusement. “No, there’s nothing they can do for me. Even flat-faces can’t cure blindness. I figure that’s why I’m still here. But it’s okay,” he added. “I have food and shelter here, and a place to go outside when it’s daylight.”

  He nodded toward the back wall of the cage. Lusa looked at the same spot in her own cage and noticed the outline of a door in the wall. Her legs still feeling unsteady, she staggered over to it and shoved it with all her weight. It didn’t open.

  “No use trying that,” Taktuq observed. “The doors only open for the flat-faces.”

  Ignoring him, Lusa sniffed carefully along the bottom of the door and as far up the sides as she could reach. There was a flap set into it, bigger than the one the flat-faces had used to deliver her food, but there didn’t seem to be any way of unfastening it. She continued investigating all around the sides of the cage, careful not to get too close to the coyote, until she reached Taktuq once more.

  The old bear had been sniffing the air, and Lusa realized that he must have tracked her progress all around the cage by her scent. “Found a way out yet?” he teased. “I told you, there isn’t one. Not unless the flat-faces let you out.”

  Lusa bit back an angry response. “What’s it like to be blind?” she asked curiously. “I can’t imagine it.”

  Taktuq let out a huff. “What’s it like to see?” he countered. “No, don’t answer that,” he went on before Lusa could form a reply. “I don’t need to know. I can recognize other animals by their scent and the sound they make, and I can sense what’s going on by the way the air moves around me.”

  “Really?” Lusa’s fascination made her forget for a moment her need to escape. “I want to try.”

  “Good luck with that,” the old bear grunted as Lusa closed her eyes.

  In the darkness she strained to pick out the sounds and scents of the other animals, but they were all mixed up. Apart from Taktuq’s scent, and the reek of the coyote on her other side, Lusa couldn’t distinguish any of them. And though she could feel slight movement of the air against her fur, it meant nothing to her.

  “This is too difficult,” she sighed, opening her eyes again. Turning to Taktuq, she added admiringly, “You must be really smart.”

  Taktuq snorted, then curled up and drifted off to sleep without saying any more. Lusa gazed at him for a moment longer, trying to imagine herself in his world, then gave herself a brisk shake.

  This isn’t getting me out of here.

  Convinced that there must be a way to escape from the cage if she could only find it, Lusa continued to examine every paw’s width of the floor, the bars, and the flap where the flat-faces had given her the food. But before long she began to realize that the outlines of everything around her were growing blurred. She looked up and saw that the lights were still blazing above her, but it was becoming harder and harder to see.

  Oh no . . . Lusa blinked, trying to clear her vision. I must be going blind, too! Panic lurched in her belly. She struggled to stay on her paws, but they crumpled beneath her and she sank to the floor of the cage. Sleep was tugging at her fur, and after a feeble effort to resist, she gave herself up to it.

  Loud clicking sounded all around Lusa, and she opened her eyes to find herself walking in the midst of a vast herd of caribou. They pressed so close to her that she could hardly breathe, and she was afraid that their clicking feet would trample her.

  “Help!” she wailed. “I have to find my friends!”

  The caribou ignored her, as if she was invisible, as they went on and on, sweeping Lusa along in the center of the herd, covering plains, fording rivers, and forging onward over fields of ice.

  Then Lusa spotted another black bear’s face among the legs of the caribou. With a cry of relief she recognized the bear’s warm brown eyes.

  “Ujurak! Help me!”

  Somehow Ujurak managed to find a path between the moving legs and nudged Lusa sideways until both of them reached the edge of the herd. He stood beside Lusa, watching as the caribou moved away in a cloud of dust and the sound of their clicking feet faded into silence.

  “Now what?” Lusa asked, turning to face Ujurak. “Tell me how to find the others!”

  Ujurak didn’t reply, but gently nudged Lusa again until she was facing the opposite way, gazing along the dark swath of the caribou trail. Lusa half hoped to see her friends padding toward her, but nothing moved in all the landscape.

  “Ujurak, I don’t understand,” she began, and turned back toward the star-bear, only to see that he had vanished, though his scent still wreathed around her.

  “Where are you?” Lusa gazed back and forth with the beginning of panic. “Don’t leave me!” she begged.

  “I won’t,” Ujurak’s voice murmured in her ear, as close as if he was right beside her. “I am always with you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kallik

  Kallik woke to see that the first faint traces of dawn had begun to creep into the sky, though above her head the stars still glittered. Groaning softly as she stretched her cramped limbs, she scrambled to her paws and shook off scraps of fern from their makeshift nest.

  Toklo was sitting up next to her, his solid shape outlined against the growing light as he gazed out over the plain, but before she could speak to him, she was distracted by Yakone shifting and mumbling by her side. Bending her head, Kallik examined Yakone’s injured
paw, giving the wound a good sniff. To her relief, the scent of infection had faded.

  Those leaves did a good job, Kallik thought.

  Toklo padded forward and stood at the edge of the clearing, overlooking the misty gray plain. Kallik joined him. “Do you think Lusa is somewhere out there?” she murmured.

  To her surprise, there was a new confidence in Toklo’s eyes as he turned to her. “I know she is,” he replied. “Ujurak told me.”

  Kallik felt a spark of hope flare inside her. “You spoke to Ujurak?”

  Toklo nodded. “He came to me in a dream. He said there would be caribou where Lusa is. That we have to find the caribou.”

  All the cramps and stiffness in Kallik disappeared. “So do you know which way we should go?” she asked. “Did you meet caribou on your first journey to Great Bear Lake?”

  “No, but Ujurak said we would find them beneath the stars that shine where the sun will rise.” Toklo set his jaw. “We will find her, Kallik. We haven’t come all this way only to lose her so close to the end of our journey.”

  The bears stared out across the plain. Kallik gazed at all the flat-face denning places, all the crisscrossing BlackPaths, all the vast stretches of empty land, and her optimism began to leak away.

  There are so few places for us to hide. We’ll be so vulnerable. . . .

  “We’ll stay in the mountains for as long as we can,” Toklo said, as if he could read Kallik’s thoughts. “There’ll be more prey up here, and more places to shelter. And when we have to leave, we’ll be guided by the stars where the sun will rise.”

  Kallik squeezed back into the bramble thicket and thrust her muzzle into Yakone’s shoulder to wake him. “Guess what?” she announced. “Ujurak appeared to Toklo in a dream and told him that we have to find the caribou to find Lusa. We don’t have to follow the BlackPath anymore.”

  “Great!” Yakone heaved himself to his paws. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

  “We’ll hunt first,” Toklo decided, appearing at the edge of the thicket. “We’ll travel faster on full bellies.”