Svern’s nose wrinkled as the shocking scent of Dark Fang, the Master of the Black Ice Ort, permeated the air. This was the bear who had torn off his ears with that poisonous, nearly black fang. Dread began to build in him as his mind returned to the black ice ort. The smell of blood, the shrieks of bears being tortured. How could Dark Fang be here in Uthermere in the Northern Kingdom of Ga’Hoole?

Even after all this time, Svern could still see Dark Fang’s face, crisscrossed with a web of scars. Behind the scars, his eyes glowed red. But perhaps most frightening of all was the fang. He had been “gifted,” it was said, with that one exceedingly long tooth, which was rumored to be poisonous and as deadly as the venom of a frost viper.

Svern had fallen unconscious when Dark Fang tore off his ears. When his head cleared, he was more determined than ever to escape the black ort. He feigned unconsciousness, pretending to struggle for breath, and then when the guard bent over him, Sven had slashed out with his paw and ripped his neck.

Svern was sure that his escape had damaged Dark Fang’s reputation. It must have infuriated the Grand Patek. Dark Fang must have come back to redeem himself, and this time, he would take more than Svern’s ears. He would rip out his heart.

Still, Svern never believed that Dark Fang would track him to this remote spot. While a savage fighter, the bear was a mediocre hunter at best. He was not quick on land nor agile in water. But there was no time to ponder how Dark Fang had found him. Svern had to act quickly if he were to get back in time to join the cubs on their mission. But then a chilling thought made him freeze in his tracks. With Dark Fang on his tail, Svern could accidentally betray his den or the entrance to the Den of Forever Frost. Dark Fang would undoubtedly pick up not just Svern’s scent but that of the cubs. All would be lost. He must finish this bear here and now. I am not simply fighting for my own life, but for Jytte, Stellan, Third, and Froya. The dread receded as his mind clicked into action.

There was no time to waste, yet Svern had to be careful, not careless. He used an old trick that he had learned from other Yinquis to disguise their smee holes, the listening posts that were vital for their spying. He was determined to confuse Dark Fang by laying down a false track that led directly away from the den. This took a while, but he was soon ready to move on to the second part of his strategy.

It was a simple evasion tactic. He first found a sticky spruce tree. The sap flowed freely this time of year, and he broke two of the bushiest spruce boughs and stuck them to his feet and paws. There would be a double advantage here. His own scent would be disguised by the strong-smelling sap and his footprints erased by the bushy needles of the limb.

There was little time to do all this, however. Dawn was about to break. The lighter it became, the easier it would be for Dark Fang to find him. He just had to hope that the cubs would not panic when they awakened and discovered his absence. They’d have to set off without him. There was such a slim window of time when it would be safe for them to pass through the ice maze in the Den of Forever Frost. Scraping out a rough map on the floor of his den the previous day, he had shown them the route they needed to follow to get to the entrance. He just prayed that they would not linger but go ahead. Time was of the essence. This he had drummed into their heads. He knew it would be a shock for them to find him gone, but they simply must trust that he would meet up with them between the slivers of the moon to enter the den.

By late afternoon of the following day, he had walked countless leagues. Dark Fang’s scent had dissolved. Surely the cubs had left for the cliffs by now. He had forgotten how quickly the days began to shorten this time of year. The last sliver of the old moon was sailing overhead when he began to get an odd sense that perhaps he was being followed, although he caught no scent. He had to change his direction. He walked on for several hours.

Then, emerging from a stand of birch trees into a clearing, he saw a shape. The shape cast a shadow. How on this nearly moonless night could a shadow be cast? The shape slid toward him.

A voice slithered out of the night. “I’ve been expecting you, Svern.”