The bear’s roar jolted the creatures awake. Phillippe dashed across the snow, kicking Lily in the face with his hind foot as he ran, and the shrub-dog and mouse followed. Even Rigel, ever faithful, screeched and took flight in terror. Only Glorf, still solid and immobile as stone, remained beside Lily in the snow.
Lily struggled to her feet, but the bear roared again, unleashing a blast of wind that knocked her backward. She fought to scrabble away, but only wedged herself into a snowdrift. The bear thundered toward her, and the force of his footfalls sprayed ice into the air that hailed down atop her. Lily shielded her face from the shower with both arms, then cried out for help, but no sound came from her burning throat.
Help! Oh someone, please help! Where’s Cedric?
The bear roared again, then swiped at her with a massive, black paw. Lily ducked further into the snowdrift, and the bear’s claws, huge and sharp as sickles, barely missed her. The blow sent an avalanche of snow into the air that covered Lily and hid her from view.
The bear’s eyes reddened with fury, and steam poured from its nostrils and clouded the air. Then its forelegs dropped to the ground with a crash, and it huffed and pawed the snow in search of her.
Lily crawled away on her stomach, praying that the bear, now scrounging with its snout in the snow, wouldn’t see her. Her chest burned from cold and exhaustion. She passed the bear’s hind legs, which towered over her like pillars. Keep going, she told herself. Don’t stop.
Finally, with the bear behind her still kicking up snow with its forepaws, she hauled herself to a stand and ran. The icy barrage of the blizzard stole her breath, and although adrenaline quickened her heart, her legs ached. She tried to run, but could only trudge. No! Please no!
She heard a huff, and the day suddenly darkened, as if dusk descended in a curtain. Lily’s heart sank as she realized she stood within the bear’s shadow.
It had found her.
Lily pushed harder against the wind, but the gusts struck her backward. Every inch of her stung from the cold. With despair weighing down her limbs, she fell to her knees.
What have I done? Oh, what have I done?
She heard another huff, and then a growl, deep and satisfied, the grumble of victory. Lily heard the bear draw a breath, as it readied to strike.
Pax, where are you? Why don’t you come?
A sudden shrill cry broke through the roaring wind. Lily lifted her head, blinking, and saw that the bear, too, had paused and was looking toward the direction of the sound.
A man half Lily’s size stood before the bear with his arms raised. To Lily’s amazement and relief, at the sight of him the bear forgot Lily and bounded across the snow field. It stooped to the ground and tucked its head between its front paws, like a doting puppy whining for a biscuit.
The man offered something in his mitten-clad palm, which the bear gladly lapped up with an enormous black tongue that knocked the man over. With a rumble, the bear rolled over and showed its belly, which the tiny man scratched and patted. He then procured what appeared to be a pistol from inside his coat, and for a terrifying moment Lily worried he would shoot the animal. She tried to cry out, but couldn’t raise her voice above a rasp.
To her relief, the figure pointed the muzzle away and fired into the snow. A spray of purple juice shot from the pistol, and the fierce wind carried the liquid in a wide arc so that it dotted the ground in a million places. At the sight of the juice bleeding into the snow, the bear clambered to its feet and bounded away with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. It stooped forward and licked up the stained snow greedily, snuffing and drooling all the while.
Lily blinked. Did that guy just save me with . . . flavored ice? Rigel landed beside her and tugged on her sleeve to snap her out of her amazement and urge her out of the snow. As she struggled to her feet, shivering and dusting snow from herself, the man strode toward her.
At first glance he resembled a teddy bear. He waddled as he walked, with his arms, thick from layers of clothing, flapping awkwardly at his sides, and he was wrapped from head to toe in fur. As he drew closer, she saw that the fur lining of his hood concealed his entire face. Only his eyes, rimmed with bushy white eyebrows, and his nose, which looked more like a pink tangerine than anything Lily had seen on an actual human, peeked from within the woolly layers.
As she studied him, the man flapped a pudgy arm and urged her to follow him. She glanced at Rigel, who chirped in acquiescence, and then slogged forward through the snow. The creatures that had scattered rejoined her and hovered around her like moths around a lamppost.
The man waved toward a dark object hulking a few yards away, and as Lily squinted, she discerned the outline of a sled, lashed to a team of dogs with harnesses. The man waved for her to climb aboard. She found Glorf on the ground, hoisted him to her back, and with a muffled grunt approached the sleigh.
“Squee-squeee-squeeeak!” the man said.
Lily’s jaw dropped. He sounded like he’d swallowed a squeak toy, like the rubber hamburger her cousin’s dog always chewed.
“Um . . . did you try to say something?”
He narrowed his eyes, until they almost disappeared under his bushy eyebrows. “Squee-squeee-squeak!”
Lily shrugged her shoulders, and Rigel chirped in confusion. The man rolled his eyes and shook his head, and then with a huff that sounded a lot like a whoopie cushion, he motioned for her to climb aboard.
With a deep breath and a leap of trust, Lily eased herself into the sled. It creaked and jostled as she climbed inside, but to her relief, when she lowered herself onto the velveteen seat, the vehicle held. She ducked low out of the wind, and sighed with gratitude for the inkling of shelter the sleigh provided from the bitter cold. The creatures all piled alongside her, prompting their host to blurt a series of high-pitched squeaks.
“We have to bring them,” Lily said. “They’re—they’re my responsibility.”
He rapid-fire squeaked in response, and although she couldn’t understand his words, she recognized his irritation. She slumped into her seat and wished she could disappear into it. Even more, she wished she knew where to find Cedric, Adam, and Keisha, and how she’d managed to bring them to this austere place.
Phillippe, whose top hat had disappeared in the storm, remained outside the sled, scowling and tapping his foot. “This is no good,” he shouted over the wind. “There is no room. I will not stuff myself in there.”
“Phillippe, please.”
“No, you . . . you . . . person! You cause trouble enough!” He pumped the air with his paw in protest, and then bounded into the swirling snow.
Before she could call him back, the sleigh lurched forward and slammed Lily back against the seat. The man squealed and dived for the sleigh, but it sped away and left him facedown in the snow. Phillippe fled ahead of them, his ears blown back by the wind.
Only then did Lily realize that the team pulling the sled weren’t dogs. They were a fleet of arctic foxes, hunger fueling their pursuit of the rabbit bounding ahead.