The endangereds, p.1
The Endangereds, page 1
Dedication
To my daughter, Vivienne Antoinette Cousteau. You inspire me every day to laugh more, love more, and ask more questions. This book is for you; I hope that in some small way it will help to build a better world for you to inherit.
—Philippe Cousteau
To my dad, Gary, who took me camping, hiking, and fishing every chance he got and taught me to cherish the Great Outdoors. That epic trek into Oak Creek Canyon shaped me more than you’ll ever know.
—Austin Aslan
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: Nukilik
Chapter Two: Nukilik
Chapter Three: Nukilik
Chapter Four: Nukilik
Chapter Five: Nukilik
Chapter Six: Nukilik
Chapter Seven: Arief
Chapter Eight: Arief
Chapter Nine: Nukilik
Chapter Ten: Wangari
Chapter Eleven: Nukilik
Chapter Twelve: Nukilik
Chapter Thirteen: Arief
Chapter Fourteen: Murdock
Chapter Fifteen: Wangari
Chapter Sixteen: Nukilik
Chapter Seventeen: Wangari
Chapter Eighteen: Arief
Chapter Nineteen: Wangari
Chapter Twenty: Wangari
Chapter Twenty-One: Arief
Chapter Twenty-Two: Nukilik
Chapter Twenty-Three: Arief
Chapter Twenty-Four: Nukilik
Chapter Twenty-Five: Nukilik
Chapter Twenty-Six: Arief
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wangari
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Nukilik
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Wangari
Chapter Thirty: Arief
Chapter Thirty-One: Wangari
Chapter Thirty-Two: Arief
Chapter Thirty-Three: Wangari
Chapter Thirty-Four: Arief
Chapter Thirty-Five: Wangari
Chapter Thirty-Six: Arief
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Wangari
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Arief
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Nukilik
Chapter Forty: Wangari
Chapter Forty-One: Arief
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Animals
About World Wildlife Fund (WWF)
About Earthecho International
About the Authors
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Nukilik
(Ursus maritimus)
The shore was too far away.
The polar bear leaned forward and gazed out across the Great Ocean. The mass of snow-patched land that was her home was half a day’s march from here—or it would be if the ice bridge hadn’t melted.
She tensed. Swimming that distance would take great strength, possibly more than she had.
A voice snapped her from her thoughts. “Stay back from the edge, Nukilik. The ice could break away under your weight. You’re not a cub anymore.”
“I know, Mother.”
“Oh, I’m ‘Mother’ now? What happened to Mamma?”
Nukilik huffed her annoyance. She was starting to understand why bears her age usually struck off on their own. “I’m not a cub anymore, remember?”
Nukilik was ready, she thought, to leave Mother’s side. According to The Ways, it was time. But Nukilik could not set out to explore the Great Realm alone right now. She and her mother were trapped on a drifting island of ice, starving and weak, growing weaker.
Hunger gnawed at her belly.
The bears had waited days for the ice sheet to drift toward land or for a bridge of ice to refreeze. But it was too warm. Based on where the day star rose and set and the length of the nights with their green-ribbon displays, she and Mother should have been safe venturing so far out over the ice to find food.
They had gone out. But they never found food. And now they were cut off from home and Nukilik’s tongue was salty and dry.
“We should just swim for it.”
“We need a plan, Nuk.”
“We’ve already waited too long!” Nukilik grumbled. “You should have listened to me the first day the ice broke.”
Mother sighed. “You don’t think I’ve been on drifting ice islands before? But they never went out to sea like this. Everything is changing.”
Nukilik knew her mother was not to blame for their worrisome situation, but she wasn’t going to admit it.
“The knowledge of how things work is stored in our bones,” Mother explained. “It was put in you when you were still inside of me. We’re taught The Ways by the Old Natures who watch over the Realm as stars now. But The Ways have gone awry.”
Nukilik scanned the distance, looking for icebergs they might reach. Her stomach growled. Then Mother’s stomach growled too, as if their tummies were having a conversation of their own. The polar bears shared an irritated look and then both of them managed a laugh.
There was nothing funny about any of this, but at least they had each other.
“Mother, look!” Nukilik pointed to a strange object floating on the water far away. Its shape was too regular to be an iceberg. Nukilik had seen human vessels before, always at a distance, but never one quite like this.
“That’s a human ship,” Mother told her. “I never used to see them, but they’re appearing more and more.”
Nukilik had so many questions about the humans. But she didn’t voice them aloud. Her mother would only say, “Just keep away from them, Nuk. They’re dangerous.” That was her way of not having to admit that she didn’t know anything about them either.
The ship slowly disappeared from sight. The day star touched down beneath the waters and nighttime spread. The Old Natures, twinkling through the green ribbons, looked down at the uncertain polar bears but offered them no help.
The moon had not yet risen, but the shore was easy to make out as a dark silhouette wedged between the starlit sky and the green reflections on the water. Land appeared farther away than ever.
Nukilik did not know if she could swim long enough to reach home. But she was sure that if they didn’t try soon, she and Mother would perish either way.
Chapter Two
Nukilik
(Ursus maritimus)
“What’s the deal here?” someone squawked. Nukilik blinked away the dawn light and zeroed in on the figure of a puffin bird perched on the edge of the ice. Its big beak had colorful stripes. “You two making a break for the Bahamas?”
Nukilik glanced at her mother, who was ignoring the bird but eyeing Nukilik sternly. You know the rules, that face said. We’re predators. We don’t speak to other species.
Nukilik stretched awake. With a certain rebellious glee, she ignored her mother’s look. “What’s a bahama?” she asked the puffin.
Somewhat surprised, the puffin was delighted to engage in conversation. “A Caribbean island, I think.”
Nukilik could suddenly appreciate the wisdom of her mother’s rule. “Okay, but what’s a caribbean?” she asked, avoiding her mother’s unhappy glower.
“You’ll have to ask a long-distance tern what caribbeans are. The point is they’re waaay far south. You’ll find out yourself if you stay on this floater much longer!” The puffin scratched an itch with its large rainbow-splashed beak. “Listen, the current’s pulling strong to the south. You two had better bail if you plan on seeing home again. The ice sheet won’t refreeze this year.”
“How do you know that?” Nukilik demanded.
“The humans along the bay are already playing in the water. That’s saying something. The winter’s done.”
Nukilik didn’t know what the bird was talking about. She was overcome with curiosity. “You’ve seen humans? Tell me more about them.”
The puffin shrugged. “A bizarre bunch. You’re better off ignoring them.”
The bird’s advice sounded awfully similar to what Nukilik’s mother would say. This annoyed Nuk, and her stomach grumbled. The puffin heard the low protest and wisely hopped backward a step. The polar bear’s muscles tightened with readiness. Could she spring on the know-it-all bird without making a fool of herself or cracking the ice?
Too late to find out. Something about Nukilik’s posture or expression spooked the bird. The puffin took to the air and never looked back.
“As predators, we don’t talk to other species,” her mother emphasized. “They don’t make any sense, especially the birds. Why don’t you listen to me anymore? Why won’t you honor The Ways?”
Nukilik felt a flash of anger heat up her neck. “What Ways, Mother? All the rules have changed.”
Mother did not respond for a long time. When she finally spoke, she said, “I’m very hungry. And weak. I know you are too. But we can’t keep waiting. You were right, Nuk. We should have acted sooner. It’s time to swim.”
Nukilik sensed an emotion that polar bears rarely feel; she was afraid.
Mother rose on shaky legs and stepped forward toward the edge of the berg. It was thin out near the water, but she did not fall through. She had become too skinny and light within her wrinkled fur coat to crack the ice. Nukilik joined her, and together, the polar bears entered the ocean and began to swim toward the distant shores.
Nukilik could sense the vastness of the blue depths beneath her. She imagined losing her grip on the surface, the abyss pulling her down. The fear of falling into the black depths fueled her final reserves of strength.
For
“I’m sleepy,” she admitted.
“Don’t go to sleep,” her mother insisted. “You might not wake up.”
Nukilik felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool breeze.
She had once seen another bear fall into the forever sleep, his nature leaving his flesh behind to rise into the night to be with the old ones. Nuk was not yet ready or willing for her nature to leave the ground. But she was so tired. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. “If The Ways are failing us,” she suggested, “maybe it’s time our natures rose above the green ribbons.”
“That’s your exhaustion talking, love,” warned Mother. “Take heart and have faith. I named you Nukilik because your nature is strong. You were made with a great purpose in mind.”
Mother’s expression was so certain and confident that Nukilik couldn’t look away.
“We should move on,” said Mother.
They slipped back into the water and continued paddling toward home.
Nukilik kept her eyes on the shore, which did not seem to be growing nearer. But as twilight gathered in the sky, the shadows changed. The land suddenly appeared within reach.
“Almost there. We can do this,” Mother encouraged, speaking between deep breaths. “Maybe we can find a meal before dark!”
Nukilik felt encouraged by her mother’s reassurances. The young polar bear was staring at the shore, which had easy landings on either side of a jutting cliff face. She opened her mouth to ask Mother which shore they should aim for but was surprised by a sudden racket on the water’s surface. They were swimming straight into an oncoming pod of bowhead whales!
The bowheads breached in waves and blew plumes of mist out of their blowholes. They were moving quickly. Nukilik saw why. She gasped and almost choked on the water and sea foam churned up by the activity: the human ship they had seen in the distance a day earlier was chasing the whales. Up close, it was enormous, and moving fast. Several humans were leaning over the edges of the ship, making excited noises and pointing at the water.
Nukilik scanned the surface for her mother but could not find her among the commotion. “Mamma!” she cried out. “Mamma, where are you?”
Amid all the splashing and turmoil, no answer came.
Nukilik dodged the breaching whales as they rushed forward. The ship was almost upon her. If it hit her, she would drown. She swam at a sprint, finding extra strength she didn’t know she had. She paddled fiercely, feeling the pull of the water as the giant human vessel powered forward, its undertow dragging her toward it. The ship spat up foamy water as it rushed past. Nukilik tumbled in the wake, struggling to stay above the surface.
The waters calmed. Straggling bowheads raced to catch the rest of their pod. Nukilik paddled in place, circling. “Mamma! Mamma, I’m over here.”
She couldn’t find her mother. She called and called, but no reply came. Exhausted, she abandoned her search and made her way toward the nearest beach. She was sure Mamma would be there waiting for her.
Eventually, she made landfall and crawled onto solid ground, weary beyond any experience she’d known. She lumbered up a gently sloping shore of polished black rocks. It felt as if she were climbing a mountain.
“Mamma!”
She called out again and again. “Mamma!”
The snow had melted away here, and Nukilik felt exposed and vulnerable without her natural ability to blend into her background. Even now, in the dim twilight of this season’s night, she knew she glowed against the landscape. She fought the realization, but it settled upon her anyway: if Mamma were here, they’d be able to spot each other.
“She came ashore on the other beach,” Nukilik told herself.
She looked up at the tall crags of the land formation that jutted out into the water, cutting her off from the other shore. She was too exhausted to go farther.
“We’ll meet up in the morning, Mamma.”
She shook herself off and curled up at the top of the pebbly beach, ready to sleep. She knew she might not wake up. But if this was her last night on the ground before her nature went to be among her ancestors circling above, then maybe that would be all right.
She refused to listen to a voice in her head warning her that Mamma might already be there, looking down.
Chapter Three
Nukilik
(Ursus maritimus)
Nukilik awoke with the day star rising in the sky, stiff and weak and cold. She slowly took to her haunches while stretching and looked back out on the Great Ocean and felt afraid and alone.
“Mamma!” she cried, looking back and forth between the waters and the cliff.
A deep, painful hunger pulled at her gut. She knew she didn’t have the energy to climb the steep, rocky formations. She didn’t think she could swim around them either. Her choices were to wait here for Mamma to come to her or to set out to find her using the long way around, walking inland for a while before trekking up the hillside through the boulders.
A scent was on the air: humans. The smell that reached her nose came from somewhere beyond the rocky crags hugging the shore behind her, and it conjured up a strong association with the ship that had torn her mother away from her.
But the smell smacked of something else too: food. Nukilik needed to eat to have strength to search for Mamma. She rose to investigate. Stumbling and staggering, she forced herself up along the crags and followed the land around a hill patched with snow until she spotted the source of the smells in the distance.
In spite of her raging hunger, she waited and watched. She remembered what the puffin bird had said about humans as she studied the curious, colorful domes erected on the bare ground partway along a pebbly beach. Strewn about were bizarre items that the bear could not begin to categorize. But no humans appeared.
A gust of wind brought with it a strong scent of food. Nukilik could no longer resist. She set out across the barren rock toward the dome dwelling. The nearer she got, the stronger the smells became and the less cautious she grew.
The food was inside the dome. Nuk tore into the fabric structure. She poked her head and front legs inside and felt warm air. Her eyes were flooded by an array of strange, colorful objects. Her snout immediately zeroed in on an open metal container containing many smaller containers. She dove at the objects, scattering them about. She tore at them and bit into them and was rewarded most of the time with . . . food!
She cut her tongue on the sharp edges of one of the smaller containers, but she hardly cared. She wiggled her way entirely inside the dome and sat upright, sniffing and licking and chewing and devouring. The tastes were sweet and savory. Some were bitter or acidic. But her stomach began to fill.
I’ll bring Mamma here, she thought. She can have her fill too, once I find her.
She gnawed the lid off a big vat and found a creamy, sticky food inside. She shoved her snout into the opening and gobbled up as much of the substance as she could reach. Her hunger began to go away. She pulled her face back and stuffed her paw into the container to scoop out more of the mucky food. But once her paw was inside, she couldn’t get it back out.
The polar bear shook her limb vigorously. She pulled awkwardly out of the dome and tripped over a box. She sat up and gnawed at the container jamming her paw.
The bark of a human startled her.
On top of a small hill, two humans stood watching her, each perfectly balanced on their hind legs. They had fur only on top of their heads but were covered in colorful wrappings everywhere below their faces. They pointed and vocalized. They grew quiet when Nukilik noticed them.
“Hello, polar bear!” The female human lifted a forelimb and shook it in the air. “I guess you like peanut butter! You look very hungry. Keep it!”
Humans are always barking, thought Nukilik. These two—one female and one a slightly taller male—would make a very good meal, once she managed to tear off their wrappings.
“Can we help you free your paw from the jar?” the male barked. He slowly began to approach. The female followed him.
