Bart Belly's Arc

Chapter 12 of 21

Bart trudged deeper into the wilderness. His bag hung heavy with the golden Speedo, and cold wind cut through his bare fur. The bear who could teach him lay somewhere past this ice. But the Speedo's power was dead, and his own strength was fading. He had food for a day, maybe two. He walked because stopping meant freezing. Then, over the wind, he heard a sound. A thin, high whimper. Bart stopped. The whimper came again, from a mound of fresh snow near a leaning drift. He dug with both paws, scooping fast. Under the snow he found a small gray wolf cub. Its eyes were half open. Its legs shook. It had crawled here to hide from the storm and nearly buried itself. Bart lifted the pup against his belly. It was light as a loaf of bread, and its heart raced against his chest. He had nothing to lose and nowhere warm to bring it. But the little thing pressed into his fur and stopped shaking. "You picked a bad time," Bart said. His breath fogged. "So did I." He could not leave it. He wrapped the pup in the crook of his arm and kept moving, because the wind was rising and he needed shelter for them both. The pup sniffed at his bag, then bit weakly at a green leaf poking from the top. Bart had gathered a cluster of fruiting branches days ago, meaning to eat them. He tore off a soft berry and held it out. The pup licked it, then swallowed. It ate three more. "You're hungry," Bart said. "Me too." He ate a few himself. The taste was sharp and cold. The pup grew restless. It squirmed from his arm, dropped to the snow, and trotted a few steps ahead. Then it looked back and yipped, waiting. Bart followed. The cub knew this ice better than he did. It led him around a hidden crack, then along a low ridge where the wind died down. Over the ridge, Bart saw lights. A tall white building stood on flat snow, clean and square, with rows of bright windows and a wide door. He had not known anything stood this deep in the wilderness. The pup ran toward it, tail flicking. Bart hurried after. His legs were near done. Warm air met him at the door. Inside, the floor was smooth and the walls were white. A place of care, orderly and quiet. Someone here could look at his failing strength. Someone here might know the bear he was sent to find. The pup circled his feet and whimpered up at him, done running. Bart bent and scooped it up. "You saved me," he said. "Guess we're even." He stood dripping in the warm doorway, the dead Speedo in his bag and a living pup in his arms. He was no longer alone on the ice. But he was deep in the wilderness now, far past any gate, and he did not know who ran this place.