Dawn Rising

☾ A L M A

Mauna's heavy lumbering footsteps made Alma look up from the mound of dirt that was now Starry. Mauna looked at the mound of dirt, then back at Alma. For a moment, it was silent as Mauna understood what Alma and Mischief had done. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she padded over to Alma. She wrapped her two paws around the dark-furred she-bear, and Alma was instantly reminded of her days as a cub, the warmth of her Mother-bear's strong arms.

"It's going to be fine," Mauna said firmly. "You'll see."

Next to them, Mischief stood and puffed out her chest. "We'll be fine," she repeated. "We'll find the summer lands and then everything will be okay."

Mauna retreated her arms from around Alma and stood up on her four legs. She nodded at Mischief. "That's right," she said. She motioned at the peak of the mountain, a steep rocky incline that went up, with her head. "On the top of this peak, on the mountain ridge, you will see a tall, tall peak in the distance. Right below that peak is the alpine tundra of the summer lands." She looked down and saw Mischief gazing at the peak with an enchanted look. "There are wide, blue rivers full of salmon and- do you know what salmon is?"

Mischief shook her head, while Alma sighed as she remembered the lavish taste of the salmon. The first time she had tasted it, on a large flat rock bordering a strong-current river, she had nearly fainted from the goodness of it. Her Mother-bear had rumbled in amusement and cuffed Alma gently.

"Salmon is a fish that lives in the rivers," Mauna explained. "It is one of the most delicious foods a grizzly bear will ever taste. And there are lemmings and hares and caribou, too."

"Mother-bear told me about caribou," Mischief said excitedly. "Caribou are the tall furry creatures with branches on their heads. You have to be very experienced to catch them."

"And you will learn," Alma promised warmly.

For the first time in a long time, Alma saw a flicker of hope in her young cub's eyes.

"Then let's go," Mauna rumbled. She looked back up at the steep incline and searched with her eyes for an easier place to climb up the peak.

"Over there," Alma said, pointing with a paw at a cluster of small boulders. The boulders upheld a narrow, gritty trail that looped up to the peak. The sides of the trail, speckled with rocks and snow, fell down to meet the sharper stones of the mountain. "It's a bit risky, but I think Mischief can manage it."

"Let's go, then!" Mischief exclaimed, and the three bears made their way to the boulders. Mischief scrambled up first, her paws scrabbling against the stone. Alma nosed her rump, helping the smaller cub up. Then she let Mauna heave herself up onto the boulders, and afterward, she went. As they walked along the trail, small pebbles and clots of dirt tumbled down, making small clinking sounds. Alma glanced to the side nervously, at the solid stones that would greet them if they fell. The mere thought of cracking her head against them made her pelt bristle. Fortunately, none of them fell, and soon they had reached the peak of the mountain. It was just as narrow as the trail, and jagged spires of rock jutted through the air. A strong wind blew, and Mischief nearly toppled over, blinking furiously so as to not dry out her eyes.

Alma raised her head and gazed out at the valley yawning before them. It was covered in a white blanket of snow, dotted with the small tan outlines of rocks and boulders. The tallest mountain stood out against the others, its peak a sharp, jagged spire like a tooth tearing through the sky.

"How... how long is the journey going to take?" Alma asked, her voice almost lost in the wind.

"Six days at most," Mauna had to raise her voice to be heard against the roar of the wind. "Along the way, there is a small glen- a small bowl of rock with a few trees. That is the halfway point."

By now, flurries of snow were starting to whirl through the air, whooshing and whistling sharply. Alma leaned forward, pushed by the wind. She cast a protective paw around her cub, who was dangerously close to the edge. "How do we get down?" she called through the storm.

Mauna's amber-and-brown pelt was blurry through the flurry of snow. Alma blinked, attempting to get the snowflakes out of her lashes. "There, there!" Mauna cried. She started lumbering toward a small hollow in the mountain, sheltered from the wind by a flat, roundish boulder. Alma and Mischief started down the incline. Mischief skittered on her feet, then went skidding down, yelping in surprise.

"Mischief!" Alma roared. She tried to bound down to reach her sliding cub, but only slipped and hurt her paw on a rock.

"Help!" Mischief yowled. "Mama!"

Just as Mischief was going to disappear, out of sight, down the mountain, Mauna's great paw caught her. The elderly she-bear leaned forward and grabbed Mischief by the scruff, then roughly retreated her to the hollow with the boulder. Alma hurriedly skidded down the mountain, to the hollow. There, the snow fell in soft drifts around the small earthy stoop in the ground. The ground was frozen and hard, cold to the touch, but the boulder sheltered the bears from the wind and the whirling snow.

"Mischief," Alma gasped as she rushed into the hollow. Her cub was huddled, next to Mauna, her eyes wide as two moons. She was racked with furious shivers, her teeth chattering with the cold and the fear. "My cub, my little cub," Alma whispered. She sat down and embraced Mischief, licking the top of her head roughly.

"I was going to die, Mama," Mischief said. Alma licked her cub more, attempting to reassure her. "But Mauna saved me."

Alma looked up, realizing then that the elderly she-bear had been sitting there, saying nothing as Alma forgot about her. "Mauna," Alma began, her voice tight. She didn't know where to begin; her emotions were scrambled all over. "Thank you- I- thank you so much." Once again, the sting of failure pricked at Alma's pelt. She could have stopped Mischief's fall or caught her with a paw, or simply been in front of her to make sure she didn't slip. But instead, she had only watched as Mischief fell in front of her very eyes. Had it not been for Mauna, Mischief would have been a broken body at the bottom of the mountain.

"I understand," Mauna said, her voice hushed as well. Her eyes held a faraway look, like she was remembering a distant memory. "The mountains aren't kind."

"No, they aren't," Alma agreed. She remembered Starry's shriveled, lifeless body and the despair that had filled her when Mischief had slipped. She felt the cold that seeped through the ground and whistled with the wind. She curled up around Mischief, resting her head on Mauna's flank, who was curled around her.

The storm raged around them, but for the moment, they were safe, protected by the sturdy shelter of the boulder. "The mountains are ruthless," Alma whispered, and fell asleep to the sound of Mauna's soft rumbling.