The Last Polar Bear

Chapter 24

Godtagelse – acceptance

My third Winter was hard. The winds from the north were strong and unforgiving, causing me to seek shelter for much of my trek. I slept a lot, conserving my energy, covered by the shelter of snow as the angry gales continued above, waiting for them to subside. Even though I had grown, I was still small compared to Nanna. Luckily, I had feasted well before the storm hit and had fed enough to satisfy me without going hungry.

Eventually, the winds subsided and I climbed from the shelter, eager to greet the cool air once more and feel its refreshing tingle ripple through my coat. Sniffing the familiar comfort of the tundra, I felt a sudden sense of peace. A beautiful sky hung above – Månen had turned to gaze on her mother for one last time before she averted her face again. Her gentle glow lit the landscape, causing the snow to shimmer against the delicate shroud of night. The air was quite still and a resounding quiet covered the ice like soft fur.

The deep crunch of aqiluk resonating beneath my paws felt satisfying as I began my trail, and I enjoyed making the only marks in the smooth snow cover. I stopped briefly and looked down at my front paws, the little dinliltla clinging to my pads. Lifting one closer to me, I inspected it and remembered trying to catch snowflakes for the first time with Nanna and Tórbjörn. I couldn't help but smile at the memory – what an adventure it all seemed. Then I saw the print I left behind. It was much larger now than little Mika's and I realised how far I had travelled since my first Winter. 'Their journey begins when they fall on their own,' I said to myself and a sense of pride warmed my heart. I was content.

I raised my face to the sky hoping that Nanna could somehow see me from so far away, when the light began to glisten and shift, then came together in a twisting pattern of glimmering yellow and green. Öben.

His voice unfurled above me like a busy tongue licking at the far reaches of the night sky. This time I did not avert my eyes and, quietly watching the majestic display, listened. It was as though He reminded me of the past and gave the answer I had been waiting for. It was a message of acceptance – I could finally call myself björn. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of His breath upon me and then bowed my head to show that I understood, thanking Him for remembering me despite all my self-doubt.

He lingered a moment longer, hovering, as though waiting for my reply. There was something else. I wanted to hear Him but the message remained unclear. I continued to watch as the sway of light flickered and retreated out towards the sea before one final flare extinguished into darkness. My gaze held, long after He had gone, looking out at the same point over the sea where He had vanished, wondering what it was He was urging me to see. Then the thought of Mikenberg swam into view – the lonely mountain; the cradle of rock; the rolling shores full of two-tusk, waiting for my return. I would have to trust in my strength and find my way back.