The Last Polar Bear

Chapter 22

Alene – alone

I stayed at the top of the ice-fracture for a while, letting my body recover. The air was clear and I enjoyed the fresh smell of the wind tickling my nostrils. As I lay there, the thought came to me that if I were a larger björn I would not have survived: my weight would have pulled me down. Nor would I have been able to make the jump. For the first time I was glad for my small size – it had saved my life. If only Tórbjörn could have been there to see it. But then I realised he would not have escaped as I had done. I had been better off alone.

My thoughts turned to my journey onwards – it was my only hope that I would see him again.

I rolled over onto my front and slowly sat up. The ache in my ribs remained. Every movement I made caused the pain to shoot down one side. I still had a long trek in order to complete my journey; this would no doubt slow my progress. The tear in the manalaq was also too wide to cross – I would have to go far around it.

The journey back seemed to take forever and at many stages I thought I would never make it. The gap in the ice continued for further than I imagined and its detour delayed my trail by great lengths. Each pace I took, I felt the wrench in my side and I had to take rests to build my strength. I worried I would miss Tórbjörn. All I wanted to do was to reach the shores that I knew from my birth but I could not speed my progress despite Solen's increasing presence in the sky. Soon, there would be no darkness, a signal to the other björn to continue their journeys back out across the retreating manalaq again, forever following the constant cycle of the ice.

When I finally reached the foothills of the mountains, I had to skirt their southernmost tips in order to find my way back to a place I could recognise. I had not travelled this way before and everything felt unfamiliar and remote. I did not sight anywhere that felt like home.

I continued to wander, searching for that special place, all the time sniffing the changing air for some sign of Tórbjörn but it held no promise. I had not even sensed another björn since the last time I saw my brother and I felt like the only one left. Merely the returning skydwellers remained my false companions, busying themselves greeting one another and ignoring my presence. I no longer listened to their calls. I felt miserable and alone – this was not the homecoming I had imagined.

In the quiet of the dwindling darkness, when the tundâr often seemed most peaceful, I looked up to the brief glimmer of the lights above and pondered at how many there were. How many other spirits had roamed, lonely in their existence, to finally join with the others? Was this something that all björn shared? My thoughts always strayed to Tórbjörn waiting for me on the ice, thinking that I had not made the journey back. Was he was still alive and I had simply missed him, or had he too made the final journey? Was I truly the last of my kind, doomed to forever wander the tundâr alone? I knew I must resist such thoughts.

I would have to continue the journey on my own. But I would not rest until I had sighted my brother once more, or until the final moment came, when our spirits would at last meet again.