He broke off with a grunt as Kallik exploded out of the den. “He won’t listen, and he won’t do anything!” she complained. “I’m at my wits’ end. I’m going hunting.” She stormed away into the trees.

“Wait!” Lusa called, bounding after her. “I’ll come with you.”

Kallik slowed down to let Lusa catch up. “I’m so worried,” the white bear admitted. “Yakone is better! His paw has healed, and he isn’t hot anymore. But nothing I say to him makes any difference. He won’t try to walk.”

“Give him another day,” Lusa suggested.

“And another day after that? Lusa . . .” Kallik paused.

Lusa touched her nose to Kallik’s shoulder. “Go on.”

Kallik took a deep breath. “What really bothers me . . . Well, what if Yakone’s illness has changed him somehow? Made him into an old bear, who doesn’t want to hunt or look after himself?”

“But he—” Lusa began, only to break off as Kallik swept onward.

“We won’t survive if Yakone has given up! He has to be strong enough to get back to the ice!”

Lusa felt a deep stab of concern. There has to be a reason Yakone is like this, she thought. What is he afraid of? More traps? Coyotes? Wolves? If I could figure out what it is, then maybe I could help.

That night Lusa curled up to sleep beside Yakone while Kallik was outside, keeping watch for wolves. Toklo was a snoring hump at the far side of the den. Do all brown bears make that much racket at night? Lusa wondered, though she had to admit that it wasn’t only Toklo who was keeping her awake. Her worry about Yakone was like the stinging of a thousand bees.

Lusa realized that the white bear was muttering in his sleep. At first it was only a low murmur, but gradually she began to distinguish separate words.

“Too slow . . . too slow . . .” Yakone shifted uncomfortably, patting the floor of the den with his injured paw as if he was dreaming of walking. “Can’t run . . .” He brought his paw down with a slap on the ground. “Missed it!”

Lusa couldn’t help wondering if the fears that Yakone was determined to hide from his friends during the day were coming out now, in his dreams.

“I can’t . . . do . . . it!” Yakone’s voice was muffled by the leaf mulch beneath him.

Lusa sat bolt upright. Yakone wasn’t scared of traps or coyotes. He’s afraid that he’ll never walk and hunt properly again.

“That’s it,” she whispered to herself. “He’s scared to try!”

“No . . . no . . .” Yakone muttered. “Can’t hunt . . . leave me . . . too slow . . .”

Surely he doesn’t want us to give up on him! Lusa thought, shocked. Leave him behind, while we carry on without him? He must know that will never happen!