ARTIE AND Putnam had followed—without knowing it, of course, since Rayel had mostly disappeared long ago from the historical record—the same currents that Rayel had followed, and the currents had funneled them into the same stretch of icy land, where they’d climbed a hill just like Rayel had done, not the exact same hill but the next one over. And even though they arrived a hundred years after Rayel did, they found a similar icy landscape.
They had not, however, anchored their boat directly to an iceberg but had instead tied it between two icebergs and left it there, in the current, hoping to keep the hull from freezing. And they had bundled up before leaving the boat, because they didn’t have Rayel’s gifts with cold weather. They also didn’t swim to shore from the boat—the water was too cold to do that—but had hung and swung, hand over hand, from the ropes they’d hitched to one of the icebergs. It was difficult, but safer than swimming.
On the boat there had been stowed a couple pairs of sun goggles which fisherfolk used on bright days on the water. Putnam and Artie wore them now to protect their eyes from the sun’s glare on the snow. They both wore two layers of blanket-made capes, hooded, with the brims pulled low, and under that, all the rest of their clothing. Artie had fashioned boots, her first pair ever, from an old piece of tarp, and both wore extra socks and mittens made from a blanket. They had one walking stick that Putnam had brought from the boat tied to his back, which they shared. They had a small water sack tucked inside Artie’s shirt to keep it from freezing, and a few pieces of dried food stored deep in Putnam’s pockets. That was all.
They were not warm. Not even close.
Putnam wanted to find the source of the salt. Artie didn’t believe they would find anything, but Putnam had gone ashore on the bear island when she wanted to, so she decided to do it here for him. Whatever they would find couldn’t be worse than bears.
After they reached shore and climbed the long hill, they stood in the wind for a precious few moments trying to find a direction that looked promising. But there wasn’t anything. Just endless snow.
Artie tried not to sound accusatory. “You said you’d find the problem. With the salty sea. Down here in the south.” She definitely sounded accusatory. She stopped talking and shivered in silence. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. The only other island they’d found was inhabited by bears.
But she clearly couldn’t live here, either.
PUTNAM COULD hear the tone in Artie’s voice. And part of him agreed with it. What had he been thinking? That he would get here and magically figure something out? That saving the world would be easy? This deep southern island looked endless. And formless. White everywhere. No trees, no plants, no animals, no birds. Nothing to keep them alive. And nothing to suggest what was turning the sea to salt.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. A salt-making windup machine, cranking away? An evil wizard casting spells? A giant sled made of salt, crashed from the heavens? Maybe there was some clue farther ahead . . . ?
Artie nudged him, and he looked at her, then realized she was shivering, not trying to poke at him. They needed to find shelter or get back to the boat. Or at least get off this windy hill. Make a new plan.
He pointed back toward the boat, and she nodded and started down the slippery slope they’d just climbed.
Before Putnam followed her, he looked around one last time and then toward the sea, over Artie’s head. There was the ocean again, cold but somehow still more friendly than the frozen ground. And there was the boat, bobbing in the water, and there—
He gasped.
No.
Artie saw them the same time he did. She stiffened and jerked back so quickly that she fell on her butt. Then she turned to Putnam, her face in a grimace of terror.
Two bears were standing on shore looking up, up, up at them. Putnam’s well-made raft bobbed in the water behind them.
The bears lowered their heads and began walking up the hill.
ARTIE AND Putnam raced down the far side of the hill, a long, slow slope that seemed to head off into an abyss of whiteness. There was nowhere else to run; the bears had blocked their way back to the boat.
But even as they ran, they both knew escape was hopeless. The bears would catch them: there was nowhere for them to hide in all this whiteness. For a desperate moment Putnam imagined digging a hole in the snow and burying himself in it, but there was no time. No time.
They threw themselves to their chests and sledded down the hill on their blanket capes. This sledding was painful—there were shards and bumps and jagged slashes in the snow crust all the way down. Next to him, Artie bumped her face on the snow, hard, and yelped. They kept sliding.
At the bottom they jumped up.
“Your chin,” said Putnam.
She swiped with her makeshift mitten; it came away with blood.
“There,” said Putnam. He pointed upward and stared, mesmerized. The bears had reached the top of the hill, where they themselves had stood only moments earlier. One creature plopped onto its stomach like a dog, as if tired from climbing. The other lifted its nose in the air and sniffed.
“Let’s go,” gasped Putnam. The air was so cold, it bit into his lungs like a knife. Like a claw, he thought, and he grabbed Artie’s hand and yanked her into motion.
They ran as hard and fast as they could, stumbling often in the sharp crusty snow and holding hands to keep each other up. But where could they go? It was hopeless.
Putnam could feel Artie starting to lag, her breath becoming more and more ragged. And he could feel it in himself, too. They couldn’t run forever. He glanced back over his shoulder. The hilltop was empty. Where were the bears? It would be impossible to see the bears, white against white, until the monsters were right on top of them. Artie and Putnam, on the other hand, glowed bright in their blanket capes against the snow. Like targets.
Keep running.
As Artie stumbled, Putnam yanked and pulled her forward. Then Artie pointed slightly off to the side, panting. Putnam veered the way she was pointing, dragging her along. But really, what difference did it make which direction they went? Or did she see something he did not? He squinted through his sun goggles as they staggered ahead.
Then he saw it too: a lighted patch of snow. The sun was beginning to set, and as the daylight faded, a round spot in the snow—not that far ahead of them, it seemed—glowed bright.
Whatever it was, it was something to run toward. Maybe, just maybe, it would be something—what?—that could help them.
MEANWHILE, ARTIE knew—she knew—it was some kind of hole in the ground. She didn’t know how she knew this, but something inside her understood. This would be a place of safety. Sanctuary. It glowed in the fading light like a holy place.
She could also hear, through and underneath the gasping of herself and Putnam, the bears drawing closer. She could feel her hair rise on the back of her neck like someone was breathing on it. There was nothing for it but to run, as fast as they could, and hope to make it. There was no way to stand and fight. She plunged ahead.
The glowing thing was a hole in the ground. They could both see it now, a lighted tunnel only a few steps ahead of them. So close. And big enough for them to slide into, one at a time, quick as quick.
Then Putnam stumbled, his foot plunging through the crust, and he flew forward onto his face, dragging Artie down with him.
She scrambled up, but Putnam didn’t move, even when she yanked his arm, hard. She screamed and tugged with all her might, pulling him forward and dislodging his foot from the snow. Slowly he rose, wavering unsteadily, his face now bloody like hers.
“We gotta move,” she gasped. “Now.” Her lungs were being squeezed by a giant icy hand.
He nodded, then looked back again.
Artie looked at the same time, and everything in her froze: her blood, her brain, her heart, all of it.
The bears stood only a few yards away from them.
They all stared, Artie and Putnam gasping for breath, shoulders heaving and bloody faces, the bears with hungry looks on their faces, bright-eyed and excited, not tired at all.
Then Putnam thrust back his shoulders and straightened out, and at the same moment, the bigger of the two bears stood on its hind legs, so enormous and so close.
PUTNAM’S MIND felt suddenly clear. This is what I am meant to do. This is how I save Artie. Not the whole world. Artie.
He pushed Artie behind him and held his walking stick like a spear. “Get to the tunnel,” he said, “and I’ll follow.”
ARTIE DIDN’T understand. Couldn’t understand. Was he going to fight the bears?
“I’ll buy you time. Then I’ll run, too,” said Putnam. “GO!”
The second bear rose up on its hind legs like the first. Both beasts roared. There was nothing but roaring.
And suddenly Artie couldn’t think anything except, RUN. She turned and sprinted, leaving Putnam behind to die, the roaring and screaming behind her filling her ears.