Bart Belly's Arc

Chapter 17 of 21

Bart left the white building at first light. The wolf cub trotted at his heel, healthy now, its gray coat clean. He carried the golden Speedo in his bag. The path home crossed open ice, and somewhere on that ice the yeti still hunted him. He had wounded it. He had driven it off. It had not forgotten. He found its tracks by midday. Deep prints, wide as dinner plates, crossing his own from the trip out. The cub stopped and growled low. Bart crouched behind a snow ridge and listened. Nothing moved. Then a shadow rose over the ridge, and the yeti stood above him, one arm still torn from their last fight. It roared and swung. Bart rolled clear. He had one choice. He pulled on the golden Speedo behind the ridge, and strength flooded his arms at once. He met the next swing with both paws and shoved. The yeti stumbled back, surprised. Bart pressed forward. He drove the creature toward a slope of loose snow. Blow for blow, he matched it now. He got his shoulder under its ribs and lifted. The gold made the huge body light. He raised the yeti clean off the ice. Then the shiver came. It ran up his arms, small and fast, like water skipping. Three breaths, Nurse Cold had said. He knew it now. His late-night training with her weight on the beds had burned the feeling into him. His old self would have pushed through and been crushed when the gold quit. Not now. Bart bent his knees. He did not hold. He threw the yeti forward onto the loose slope and dropped flat. The strength drained out of the Speedo an instant later. His arms went weak and shook. The yeti hit the snow hard. Its own weight broke the slope loose. Snow slid, then poured, and the creature tumbled down inside it. Bart lay still and watched the white wave carry the yeti far down the mountain. The roar faded. Then only wind. The cub crept to his side and licked his cheek. Bart sat up slow. His arms still trembled. He had felt the gold quit, and this time it had not killed him. Nurse Cold's lesson had held. He peeled off the Speedo and pushed it back in his bag. "It's done," he said to the cub. "No more running from that one." He stood and looked ahead. The wilderness opened toward the far gates of the Polar Kingdom. The yeti no longer stalked his trail. But King Stormy waited at those gates, and he still wanted the gold Bart carried. One hunter was buried in the snow behind him. The next one wore a crown. Bart shouldered his bag and started walking. The cub ran ahead, marking the path home.