He stayed where he was, pondering. Then he filled his lungs with air, rounded his lips and whistled. A high note that he held for as long as he could; when the echo had subsided and remained only as a memory in his ears, he whistled again, but lower. He waited and repeated the signal. The same two notes, one high, one low. A desolate melody for the gutted insides of the mountain.

Then he listened.

As though expecting a reply.

And he got one.

A thud. From above.

The beam of light swept across to the staircase, its smooth steps littered with mounds of gravel.

A low rumbling. The crunch of gravel.

Now he could smell the old one. He was near. He might be standing at the top of the stairs.

‘Adja?’

He waited. The bear was moving above. Pacing to and fro with a heavy, dragging tread. Snorting. Growling deeply.

‘It’s me. Lennart-bardni.’

The big one panted.

‘Can I come up and join you?’

He slowly moved toward the stairs.

‘Do you want me to turn off the light? I’m turning off the light.’

Darkness enveloped him and he continued on with his hand sweeping through the air in front of him. The old bear’s scent was so powerful he could follow it to the stairs.

After reaching the top, he stopped. There were shades to the darkness. The scents multiplied and grew stronger and the strongest of all emanated from the bear, rising like steam from its fur.

‘Skabram. Lea go jur dådas dån.’

The big one breathed heat and blew it out. Grumbled and rammed its head against his chest, rammed it hard. Almost knocked him over. He reached out and tried to put his arm around the massive neck in some kind of sentimental embrace, but the bear wouldn’t have it; it rolled its head away and snorted Lennart’s face wet and foetid.

Slowly, it moved away from him. He heard the pads of its feet rasp against the concrete further away. He was leaving now.

Lennart fumbled his way to the wall and put his palm against it.

He pulled off his headlamp, shoved it under his shirt and found the button with his thumb. A light flared to life in his chest; he cupped his hand over it, as if to protect a precious flame. Eventually, he was able make out contours in the dark, contours that slowly filled with content. The length of the corridor. A long passage of smooth rock. The bear that stood watching him with its enormous head. The hump on its back.

He took a few more steps toward it.

‘Boade deike,’ he said. ‘Rahkis guoibmi.’

The erect ears. The black toad skin of its nose and the cavernous tunnels leading into it. The drooping lower lip.

‘Karats is gone. Urtas is gone. And Luttak. Leat javkan. But I’m here. Lennart-bardni.’

The old one backed up a few steps.