The Quest of the Cubs Page 5

  The cubs, heeding Moon Eyes’s advice, headed in the opposite direction from the roaring. They did not move fast, however. The mice hadn’t done much to diminish their hunger, and they were weak. “Can you even remember the taste of the seals our mum caught?” Second asked her brother as they scrambled over a stretch of spectacularly jumbled ice.

  “It was … it was … ” He shook his head. “I can’t remember. And I’m too tired to talk.”

  Then how will we hunt? Second wondered. They didn’t only need to eat today. They needed to eat every day, or come spring and summer, when the ice melted and food sources dwindled, during the times of the starving moons, they would die. They had already lost a lot of weight. Neither one of them would have enough fat on them to last through the Dying Ice Moons.

  After they’d left Moon Eyes, a smothering fog had rolled in and swallowed the night into an endless sea of gray. It was impossible to find Nevermoves in such conditions. The star was tucked away like a secret in the fleece of the long gray night.

  After what felt like hours, they arrived at an expanse of smooth ice that was not buckled up by the mountainous slabs. It would offer a much better view of breathing holes if there were any. “Moon Eyes said there was more than one hole, didn’t he, First?”

  “Yes,” First answered wearily. None was immediately visible. They were so tired, however, that neither cub could take another step. The wind had formed a soft pile of snow that was as inviting to them as their mum’s lap—except of course it was not Mum, just snow. They collapsed and fell into a deep sleep. By the time they awakened, the sliver of light that was called day had passed again and the night was new, sparkling with stars. They immediately found Nevermoves. However, the two little stars seemed to have looped back again and were now behind the heel of their mother star, Svenna.

  “I think,” Second said slowly, “that we have come a fair distance. We are on different ice now.” She dug her claws into the ice and brought a clawful of it close to her face, then peered deeply. “I never saw ice like this when we were with Mum. The crystals have a different pattern because we’re on a different part of the Frozen Sea. I couldn’t build a slide for skeeters here. Too brittle. Too dry. But look over there. That crack!”

  “That’s a chukysh, I think,” First said. “Mum told us about them. She said they were narrow trails of open water and there are often lots of fish swimming through them.”

  “Exactly. There were none where we lived with Mum. But remember she said she’d take us north for them, as there was good fishing and sealing!” Second rose up onto her tiptoes to look at the chukysh. There was a narrow strip of ice-free water. It gleamed like a sparkling ribbon dropped from the night sky, for the water was so black it reflected the stars on its surface.

  “But do you think we would really be able to swim it?” First asked nervously. It was tempting, for there was a good chance that it teemed with seals and all sorts of fish. “The currents might be strong, and you know I can’t rudder nearly as well as you can, Second.”

  Something hardened in Second. Why was her brother always so fearful?

  “Yes, you can, First! I don’t want to hear another word from you about your ruddering. You just have to keep your hind feet flat and focus. Remember, the Great Marven was an ancestor of our father’s. And what was he known for?”

  “Swimming. He made the fastest passage ever from Point H’Rath in the Northern Kingdoms of Ga’Hoole to Point Nunqua in the Nunquivik.” It sounded like First was speaking more to himself than to Second.

  “So no more talk about you ruddering. You just have to concentrate,” Second said solemnly.

  Their mum often used that word, concentrate, and as Second said it aloud, First felt a twinge deep inside him. Like a chunk of jumble ice, it crushed up against his heart. Missing their mum was like a pain that never eased.

  First was about to say something when suddenly he caught a familiar whiff. Second caught it too. They both uttered the luscious word. “Seal!”

  Quiet as could be, the cubs dropped to their bellies and began to creep forward silently. They were careful not to let their claws click on the ice. They remembered their mum explaining how sounds could be heard much louder underwater. Oh, if only their mum were with them now! But the two cubs knew that this was not the time for mewling.

  They were close to the hole now, a shining black disc of water reflecting the stars. They stopped and waited. Second signaled to First, then quietly lifted a paw to cover her nose. Her brother did the same. If a seal came up and saw their glossy black snouts, it would immediately dive into the dark water before bothering to catch a breath.

  The hole began to bubble. Something poked up through the froth. At the same time, there was a loud crack and a terrific jolt. The cubs slid across to an edge that hadn’t been there before. The ice beneath their paws had broken loose from the vast sheet ice of the Frozen Sea. The swells of the sea rolled under them. Second gripped with her claws. But where was First? She looked over the edge but there was no sign of him. He had simply vanished.

  She spotted a dimple in the water nearby that swirled slowly. Had First been sucked down? Where was he? A bear couldn’t simply vanish like that. He knew how to swim. But there could be hidden currents. “First! First!” The sky yawned above her. Second had never felt so alone in this vast and empty world.

  Then she spied a glittering blade cutting through the water, and her anguish turned to terror.

  “Oh no!” Second’s throat seemed to close and choke on the word.

  Krag shark!

  At the same moment, First’s head bobbed up in the water.

  The krag shark changed its course, heading directly for her brother. The massive sharp teeth gleamed, and a baleful eye looked directly at her brother, as if already savoring the taste of his flesh.

  Its eyes are so strange, Second thought. One on each side of its head. It can’t see straight! With no thought of anything except saving her brother, Second leaped into the water. The shock of the cold momentarily paralyzed her. Her brain locked and her eyeballs seemed to freeze in their sockets and for seconds she could not even breathe.

  The shark rolled its head again and changed its direction. How could its prey be in two places at once?

  First saw the krag shark turn toward him, lifting its head above the surface. Teeth, that was all he saw. Huge, glistening white teeth. He heard the desperate cry of his sister. But he could not see her. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called. But what could she do against this monster closing in?

  “Dodge, First! Dodge!” Second shouted. Suddenly, First felt a presence stir within him, like a spirit from the Long Ago. They’re stupid beasts, son. Carve the water. You’ve got the hind paw for it. Feather it. Yes, feather it like a bird on the wing. And so he feathered his hind paw. The fear began to leak away just a tiny bit. Doing something was better than doing nothing, and it made him bolder. He would outsmart this dumb, savage beast. A mouth without a brain. First had an advantage. His eyes faced forward while the shark creature had to keep turning its head to draw First into its sight lines. This was First’s advantage, and he was going to play it for all it was worth. He would dart about and confuse the beast. This must be what Second was trying to do as well. Baffle the creature, making it impossible for the shark to focus on either of them.

  First saw the confusion in the shark’s eye. It was getting tired trying to keep track of both bears, who seemed to be dancing rather than swimming through the Frozen Sea. One would be there, then the other. The shark didn’t know which way to turn. It dived deep, then came roaring up, its huge mouth with teeth gleaming fiercely, ready to bite, devour. It rushed forward to where it had last seen a cub. The cubs felt the surge from a great wave of pressure and were actually driven onto the floe. Water washed over them, but they clung with all their might. Their claws dug deep into the ice. They felt the sea bucking beneath the floe and then a stillness.

  They turned their heads and looked at each other
.

  “We’re alive!” Second gasped.

  “Alive!” First murmured.

  “And, First?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t ever want to hear you complain about ruddering again.”

  “I don’t know what happened, Second. It was so mysterious. It was like a spirit filled me … like … like the Great Marven.”

  “Not ‘like,’ First. You were the Great Marven.”

  “He was just a legend, Second.”

  “Never say ‘just’ and ‘legend’ together, brother. Remember what Mum told us once?”

  “Yes, I remember now … ‘Legends’ are what you call stories that have died. But if you can bring them back, by telling them over and over again, they become real.”

  “You brought the legend back, First!”

  They clambered across the ice. The sea had calmed now beneath the floe. The breathing hole was still there. But where was the seal?

  They waited patiently on the floe through the rest of the night, wondering if the hole would ever bubble again. They sensed seals all around them. Why would not at least one poke its head up? After several hours, they were almost ready to give up. But they were fearful of getting back into the water, for the floe was no longer connected to the larger ice sheet. It would not be a long swim, but the memory of the krag shark and its nightmarish teeth were still vivid in their minds.

  Second felt First give her a sharp nudge. He put his paw to his mouth to signal quiet as something stirred in the water beneath the ice. There was the soft sound of bubbling, and a snout poked up.

  “Now!” Second croaked joyfully.

  They jammed their paws into the hole at the same time. Second felt the sea currents sucking on her claws, and yet she was grasping nothing. She tried to reach to the side, but her shoulders were jammed against her brother’s. They could hardly wiggle. The ice had a lock on them.

  “You’re in the way!” Second roared. “Move!”

  “You move!” he said, trying to wrench away.

  Second’s frustration turned to panic. “We’re stuck, First! I can’t get my paw out!”

  “Me neither,” First gasped. “Pull harder, Second.”

  “I can’t. You have to. Your paw is bigger. I can’t pull because yours is in the way.”

  “Can you wriggle yours?”

  “I’ll try,” Second replied. If she could just angle her paw a bit more …

  Suddenly, First felt Second’s fingers grasping his desperately. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s back! Except … except … there’s more than one! The krag shark. It’s brought its … its friends!”

  The cubs were transfixed as they gazed at the advancing silvery blades that cut through the water. “Great Ursus!” Second squealed. We’re perfect targets! she thought, imagining the sharp teeth of the krags slicing off their paws. The closest shark rolled slightly, just as before. A sinister eye appeared again, as if checking its course, then turned white as it slid back into its head.

  “Look over there!” Second said in a strangled voice.

  “Killer whales,” First said weakly. “We’re bait. Live bait for every predator in the Nunquivik sea. All because of this cursed hole.” He began to shake with fear, but he clasped his sister’s paw even tighter. They would die together.

  Another voice called out from behind them.

  “Do exactly what I say and I might be able to save you. Which is more than you have ever done for my kind.”

  Whose kind? First wondered. The cubs twisted their heads around to look.

  On the edge of the chunk of ice was a seal. He was quite small and had a blue tinge to his pelt.

  “How did you get there?” Second asked. They were surrounded by open water, and a herd of very large creatures flashing white bellies were now circling the floe. “Those … are … are … ” Second’s voice began to quaver.

  “Yes, indeed, killer whales,” the seal said calmly, almost indifferently. “Orcas, they call themselves.” Then, tipping his head, the seal remarked, “And that one, the biggest, is the papa of the pod, I reckon. That’s why the krag sharks aren’t coming any closer. But if the whales get bored, they might.”

  The seal yawned. “I’ll just clamber up on this floe. I’ll be safe. Sorry, can’t guarantee what will happen to your paws. They will be a temptation to the krag sharks if the whales get tired and swim away. You know the other name for krag sharks?”

  “What?” First asked tremulously.

  “The Devil’s Blade.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you for sharing that with us,” Second said scathingly. “You’re just a bundle of useful information, you little blue creep.” She burst into tears, then stopped crying suddenly when, with her paw stuck in the breathing hole, she felt a change in the flow of water. The water was parting for a shark. It was coming closer, his blade cutting through.

  A painful realization pushed through the haze of fear. Second was never going to meet her father. I love you, Da, I love you. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine him. If she was going to die, she would die thinking of the father she never knew and the mum she loved. First managed to grasp his sister’s paw with his own stuck paw. He squeezed it as best he could. Second squeezed back. They would be here with each other until the end.

  “I suppose,” the seal said in a drawling voice, “you think you’re the only victims here. But guess what? I can be eaten by both of you. I’m your favorite food. Remember? I’m sharing an ice floe with my number one predator. You two!”

  “What are they doing now?” First yelped as waves began to wash over the ice floe.

  “A clever little strategy,” the seal replied. “You see, it’s a pod—six, maybe seven, killer whales. They start swimming in circles to tip the ice floe. They hope to wash me off, and you as well. What a feast they’ll have! Seal with a serving of cubs. The sharks will pick over the leftovers if there are any.”

  The floe tilted suddenly, and the seal skidded across the ice and slammed into Second. Grasping the cub’s tail with his mouth, the seal clamped his flipper onto First’s hind paw.

  “What can we do?” Second said desperately, her eyes flashing with terror.

  “Hard to talk with all this fur in my mouth,” the seal mumbled. “I’ll try not to bite, but if you’d let me hang on as best I can, I won’t slip off. The orcas might get bored and swim away. I think you’re safely anchored there with your paws jammed in that hole. Although they might prove too tempting for the krag sharks.”

  “But if they do swim away, are we stuck here forever?” First asked.

  “That depends,” the seal answered, though the words were still muffled through the fur. The ice floe was lurching back and forth.

  “Depends on what?” Second asked. Her frustration was growing. She and her brother were on the brink of death, and this seal was chatting away almost as if he enjoyed their predicament.

  “You be my anchor here. Let me stay on, and if I get you free when these orcas give up and leave, you won’t eat me.”

  “But you’re our main supply of food. We need to get fat,” First said, shooting a worried glance at Second, who was glaring at the seal.

  “Well, I’m also your main supply of brains. So you better let me live. Once these creatures go away, I can guide you to some really fine eating. You’ll get fat, I promise.”

  “What is it?” First said warily. The creature was amazingly strong for a young seal. The pressure of his flipper on First’s hind paw was impressive.

  “Beluga.”

  “Oh yeah, right!” Second snorted. “You think my brother and I can take on a beluga?”

  The water had started to calm. One of the pod had become bored, just as the seal had predicted.

  “You don’t have to ‘take on’ the beluga,” the seal replied. “It’s already dead. Got caught high on dry land between tides. The carcass is up there at the very end of the channel, or what we call a tickle in these parts. She died just last night. I
know about her, but so far no bears know. I could lead you there.” He paused and looked out beyond the floe they were on toward the ice-free water. “Look, the last orca just left. I told you they were easily bored. And the krag sharks seem to be following. But if I lead you to the beluga, there’s one condition.”

  “We agree not to eat you,” First said.

  “I know it sounds hard. But I think you will learn to like me. I have character.”

  “What does that mean?” Second asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “It means I am not simply blubber. I have an honest nature. I can be more than prey for you, and I recognize that you are more than simply killers.”

  “We prefer ‘predators,’ ” First explained.

  “Call it what you will. The outcome is the same. I die a violent death and your hunger is satisfied.”

  “You seem to be forgetting one tiny little thing,” Second said. “Our paws are stuck in this hole.”

  “I can dive into the water and cause a commotion under my breathing hole. It will loosen your paws.” The seal paused. “Or I could just swim off. There will be no wind tonight to stir things up. Who knows; by tomorrow, new ice might form. Then you’d really be frozen in. Or perhaps a shark might come back and snap off your paws. Or a toothwalker. The choice is yours. Beluga in the tickle, or ice locked here?”

  The commotion worked. The cubs’ paws slid easily from the ice hole. First stuck his paw in his mouth and began sucking on it, then removed it and stared as if it was a miracle that the paw was still attached.

  “Thank you,” Second murmured. She looked up at the seal, who’d climbed back onto the floe. He was prey and she had been predator, but everything had changed. She tried not to wonder whether his blubber would be tasty.

  “You saved us!” First said. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are. What can we do for you? Whatever you ask.”