River of Lost Bears (21 page)

Toklo blinked, his eyes sharp with grief. “I'm so sorry,” he murmured.

Lusa turned back to Chenoa. “Another lost bear,” she wailed.

“It's not your fault, Lusa,” Kallik told her.

“No.” Toklo's growl cracked.

Kallik caught his eye and saw panic glittering in his gaze.

“It's not her fault,” Toklo repeated. He turned and stalked up the shore.

Kallik's belly tightened.
He blames himself for Chenoa's death!

Yakone splashed out of the shallows. “Toklo!”

“Let him go, Yakone.” Kallik shook her head. “He needs time alone.”

She leaned past Lusa and grabbed Chenoa's pelt between her jaws. Yakone hurried to help, lifting Chenoa's flank with his muzzle. Tugging hard, they freed the she-bear and pulled her close to the tree line. They laid her out gently. Water drained from her pelt and streamed over the stone, carrying her blood to the river.

Lusa pushed past Kallik and crouched beside Chenoa, beginning to lap her pelt like a mother washing her cub. “Don't be cold.”

Kallik watched her, feeling hollow.
You can't warm her up, Lusa.

Yakone gazed into the forest where Toklo had disappeared. “We should bury her,” he growled. “Unless you want wolverines picking at her pelt.”

Kallik hushed him with a warning glance, but Lusa hadn't heard.

She was murmuring to Chenoa. “You nearly made it! You nearly found your own home. But you'll be safe now. You'll make your home beside your mother.”

Grief rolled through Kallik, hardening in her chest until she was aware of the weight of every breath. The shadows lengthened, and she felt the sudden chill of evening as the sun dipped down behind the forest.

The undergrowth swished, and Toklo appeared from the trees. “I've found a place for her,” he announced. “She'll have a proper burial.”

Kallik searched his eyes for grief or rage, but they were clear and steady. He nudged his snout beneath Chenoa's damp pelt. With a grunt, he rolled her up toward his shoulders. Yakone helped haul Chenoa across Toklo's back. Together, they carried her into the forest.

Lusa stood trembling on the stones. “It's too soon to bury her. I need to see her.”

Kallik rested her muzzle on Lusa's head. “We'll build her a safe place to rest. Away from scavengers.” She nudged the black bear forward into the forest. Yakone's white pelt flashed ahead of them. Kallik guided Lusa until the trees opened into a small clearing. She gasped when she saw that the undergrowth had already been scraped away and broken branches were heaped beside a pile of rocks.
Toklo's prepared her burial place.

Toklo knelt and let Chenoa slide from his shoulders. As Yakone gently lowered the dead bear to the ground, Toklo began to dig in the place where he had exposed the dark brown soil. Yakone joined in. Together, they heaped up pawfuls of earth. Kallik nosed in beside them and helped.

They dug until the hole was deep enough to hold Chenoa's body. Wordlessly, Toklo grabbed Chenoa's scruff. Kallik saw his muddy paws buckle with the effort. She leaned closer and grasped the she-bear's cold pelt between her teeth, and together, they heaved her in. Chenoa slid into the bottom of the hole.

Lusa backed away, her fur on end. Her eyes were round with horror. “Chenoa.” The word came in a sob.

Kallik padded to Lusa's side. “She'll be safe here,” she murmured.

Toklo pawed earth onto Chenoa's body. “Sleep well, Chenoa,” he whispered. “May your spirit hear the wind in the trees and taste the scents of the forest.”

Yakone bowed his head. “May you find good hunting and feel the sun warm on your back.”

Kallik stepped forward and scraped more soil into the hole. The black she-bear looked as small as a cub, curled in the bottom. Her soaked pelt was disappearing beneath the coat of earth. “We will meet again in the stars,” Kallik promised. She glanced over her shoulder. “Lusa?” Was she ready to say good-bye to her friend?

Lusa blinked back at Kallik, her eyes misted. Then she darted forward and leaned into the hole. “I should have rescued you! I'm so sorry! This is all my fault. I wanted to be your friend forever.”

Toklo paced around the edge and nudged Lusa softly away. “We have to bury her now. Before scavengers scent her death.” He turned and dragged a branch from the pile and laid it over Chenoa. Yakone covered her with another. Then they began to pile the rocks on top. Kallik padded across the clearing and lifted a heavy, flat stone. She placed it carefully in front of the mound, a marker if she ever came back here. Lusa sat and watched.

They worked in silence until Chenoa was hidden under a heap of stones, earth, and branches.

“No one will disturb her now.” Toklo backed away, his pelt dusty. He dropped to his belly and rested his nose on his paws. “I'm sleeping here tonight.”

Kallik's heart ached. She swung her head around and caught Yakone's eye. Yakone stretched out his muzzle and touched hers. “Let's all rest,” he whispered. Padding to Toklo's side, he settled down and pressed close to the brown bear.

Kallik turned to Lusa. “Come on,” she huffed softly. “Let's rest beside Chenoa.”

Lusa stared blankly as Kallik curled around her. “Rest, Lusa.” She pulled Lusa down into the warmth of her pelt. “Sleep. Dream of Chenoa.”

Lusa did not move.

Kallik looked up. The sky showed in tiny slivers, dark between the treetops. Moonlight streamed down into the tiny clearing. She could see stars, glittering. “Take care of Chenoa,” she whispered to her mother. “Keep her safe until we meet again.”

Lusa hardly spoke in the days after Chenoa's death. During the second long, weary struggle up the waterfall and all the sunrises since, she'd walked alone, her eyes on her paws. When they hunted, she sat on the shore and watched. Yakone brought her roots, but she only nibbled at them. Her pelt grew dirty and unkempt.

“I'm worried about Lusa.” Kallik fell in beside Toklo as he marched along the shore. They'd trekked all day, and now the sun was sinking behind the trees. She could hear Yakone splashing through the cool shallows behind them. Lusa was trudging along a few bearlengths ahead.

Toklo didn't look up. “She's grieving over Chenoa.”

“She can't go on like this,” Kallik pointed out. “She's not eating properly or washing.”

“Did you think I hadn't noticed?” There was anger in Toklo's growl.

“But we need to help her.”

“How?”

“We need to make her understand that it's not her fault.”

Toklo flashed her a glance. Kallik veered away, shocked by the rage glittering in his eyes.

“It's
not
her fault,” he hissed. “It's
my
fault!”

Kallik blinked. “How?”

“I persuaded Chenoa to come with us.” He kicked angrily at the pebbles. “I should have left her where she was. Traveling with us is too dangerous.”

“But she
wanted
to leave Hakan!” Kallik argued. “She was so happy to be with us. You gave her a chance to find a new life.”

“What a great new life I gave her!” Toklo snarled. “It didn't even last a moon!”

Kallik felt his grief and rage like a wall of stone around him, shutting her out. “Be gentle with yourself,” she whispered, and hurried to catch up with Lusa. “We should stop soon, Lusa,” she told her briskly.

Lusa ignored her.

“Toklo's sad about Chenoa, too,” Kallik ventured. “But I know her spirit is watching over us.” She jerked her muzzle toward the woods. “Have you seen her spirit yet? In a tree?”

“No.” Lusa's growl was hard.

Kallik refused to be pushed away. “But you were such a good friend to her,” she persisted. “And Chenoa was so fond of you. She'll know you'll be looking for her.”

“But I'm not,” Lusa snorted.

“Perhaps you should,” Kallik suggested.

Lusa stared straight ahead. “I don't want to see her being dead!” she snapped. “Why don't
you
look? Or Toklo? Let's
all
look. I'm sure one of us will find her. She'll be
so
pleased. Playing hide-and-seek is the best part about being dead.”

Kallik was shocked by the harshness in Lusa's growl. “Please, Lusa, don't be angry. It's not your fault Chenoa died, any more than it's Toklo's.” She felt despair swamp her. “Chenoa knew how brave you are. She knew you would have saved her if you could. But the river's too powerful. There was nothing you could have done.”

“But I'll never know that!” Lusa's growl turned into a wail. “I didn't even
try
! I let her down when she needed me most!”

Kallik fought the grief rising in her throat. She hated to see Lusa in so much pain. “We're here if you need us,” she murmured. She slowed down, letting Toklo pass, and waited for Yakone to catch up.

He bounded from the water and stopped beside her. “Couldn't you cheer them up?”

Kallik sighed. “I've seen Toklo in one of his dark moods before, but never Lusa.”

“This is something they're going to have to work through by themselves,” Yakone warned her. “You can't fix everything.”

“I can try.”

Yakone pressed his cheek against hers.

“We should stop and rest for the night,” Kallik suggested.

Yakone nodded. “Toklo! Lusa! We're stopping!”

The woodland bears halted and peered back.

“Who wants to help me find a good den in the woods?” Yakone headed for the trees.

Kallik felt a rush of gratitude for her friend. Yakone
hated
sleeping in the forest.

Lusa shrugged. “Don't bother,” she called. “I'll find my own nest.” She headed into the trees farther upstream. Toklo settled down on the shore where he'd stopped.

Kallik stared at them.

“Come on, Kallik.” Yakone's white muzzle poked out from the shadowy trees. “Let's sleep.”

Kallik gazed at Toklo. Lusa had disappeared. “But—”

Yakone cut her off. “Let's sleep,” he repeated firmly.

Kallik followed him into the woods, heart aching. Why did Chenoa have to die? She was just beginning her new life. She'd been so eager to explore, always rushing to be first around the next bend in the river. Hadn't she deserved more happiness before she died? Hadn't they all suffered enough grief?

Lusa barged through a line of
ragwort into the forest. Evening light streaked the leaf-strewn earth. She growled under her breath. The others could sleep where they liked. She wanted to be alone. She was sick of Kallik trying to cheer her up and Toklo pretending it was all his fault.

I'm so sorry, Chenoa.

She wandered through the trees until dusk softened into night. The air grew chilly. Lusa scanned the branches above her head. The aspen and birch trembling around her reminded her of the way Chenoa shook with laughter. Lusa padded to a trunk and scrambled up it, nestling in the low branches. The bark scraped her fur. The branch was twisted and knobbly. This tree would be no good for sleeping.

She clutched the trunk with her forepaws and lowered herself to the ground. A birch nearby had thicker branches. She clawed her way up, past the lowest branches to a sturdier bough. Curling in a cleft where the branch arched from the trunk, Lusa nestled down. The bark was smooth and the tree cradled her. As a breeze swished through the tree, Lusa listened to the sighing of the branches. She felt comforted by their gentle creak. Safe in their embrace, she closed her eyes and burrowed into sleep.

The river swept through her dreams. Suddenly, she was back at the waterfall. She was balancing on the rock, water swirling around her.

Chenoa!

Her friend's eyes were dazed with shock as she stared back from the edge of the falls. Lusa froze in horror as Chenoa floundered desperately against the current.