Lusa and Kallik pressed their noses to the window on either side of Toklo, peering into the den. Toklo studied the old flat-face who had taken Ujurak in. The flat-face had his back to the window, blocking the bears’ view of Ujurak, who was lying next to the wall. Now and then Toklo caught a glimpse of one of the old flat-face’s pink, furless paws as he reached out to pick up or put down some small, silvery object.

I guess he’s still trying to get the line out of Ujurak’s throat, Toklo thought. His paws are very small, and much nimbler than ours. Maybe Lusa was right to bring Ujurak here, after all.

Then the flat-face healer moved, and Toklo got a clear view of Ujurak for the first time. Still in his flatface shape, he lay on his back in a flat-face nest, partly covered by pelts.

‘He looks dead!’ Kallik whispered, her voice horrified.

Toklo didn’t reply, but his belly clenched and he gritted his teeth to stop himself from howling aloud. Ujurak lay so still; his flat-face skin was a sickly grey. His eyes were closed, and Toklo couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

‘He’s not dead,’ Lusa said reassuringly. ‘The flatface wouldn’t be trying to help him if he was.’

Toklo found it hard to believe her. What did flat-faces know? Besides, if Ujurak wasn’t dead now, he might die soon, and there was nothing Toklo could do. He hated the feeling of helplessness; like the geese that scattered when he tried to creep up on them, everything that was happening was flying out of his control.

Just briefly, when he had hunted the caribou alone, he had been at peace. Now he felt as though nothing would ever go right. One thought kept nagging at him, refusing to leave him alone: It was my fault Ujurak turned into a goose. If I hadn’t had that dumb idea . . .

Hot panic flooded through him. His heart thudded as he remembered the guilt he had felt over Tobi’s death and the way Oka had abandoned him; he knew he couldn’t carry the weight of that guilt again.

No, it wasn’t my fault, Toklo told himself. It wasn’t my fault.

Gradually his heart steadied and the scorching terror ebbed away. I’m not Ujurak’s mother, he told himself. It’s not my responsibility to keep him safe.

He remembered the last time Ujurak had been injured, when the firebeast had struck him as they crossed the bridge on the way to Great Bear Lake. Then Toklo had felt as if he were the star-bear in the loneliest, darkest part of the sky. He had failed to protect Ujurak; he had felt utterly worthless.

Not this time, Toklo asserted, taking a few deep breaths. Ujurak should be able to take care of himself. Why is he so stupid? Why does he always get into trouble?