He held her only briefly. “Be safe.”
After a few silent tears, Nesha clutched her staff and strode off into the dark wood.
She traveled for many days. One evening as she sat on a felled tree, she let her eyes drift closed. She imagined the icy rim that encircled the northernmost edge of the land, hoping she would soon reach it, and worrying she would not find welcome once she did.
When she opened her eyes, a great ice-bear stood before her. The bear lay down at her feet, his fur glistening as if he had been bathed in precious oils.
“What are you doing here?” she murmured, her voice trembling only a bit.
As Nesha looked into his eyes, she saw her own nervousness reflected there, and her fear disappeared like frost under a spring sun. “Are you lonely too?”
So she closed her eyes and exhaled gently—giving the bear thick snow upon which to rest.
The ice-bear stretched out in the snow and stared up at her until she climbed from the log and sat next to him.
She opened her pack and drew out a piece of thick meat. She broke off a small piece for herself, then offered the rest of the meat to the bear.
The ice-bear gently accepted the meat from her hand.
“Perhaps we can be lonely together.” Nesha lay down to rest alongside the bear in their pile of snow.
When Nesha awoke the next morn, she found that the bear had curled around her, holding her body close to his furred limbs.
After a small meal, Nesha readied herself to travel.
The ice-bear lay flat in front of Nesha and glanced at her. He tossed his head toward his back.
Nesha ran her hand over his thick pelt. Then, she stepped past him. “Come. If you’re to travel with me, we must be off.”
The ice-bear bounded past Nesha, and once again lay prostrate before her.
She laughed and stepped past him once more. “We’ll not get far if we stop to play.”
For the third time the ice-bear leaped before her—this time, though, when he stretched his great length across the path, his body spanned the space between two boulders. She could not walk around him.
Grumbling, Nesha began to climb over him, but once she was atop his back, he stood.
“Oh,” she murmured, awed that such a great beast would carry her. She was still tired from her days of walking, so she said, “For a short while, I suppose there’s no harm in it.”
So, atop the ice-bear, Nesha journeyed through the forest. The only sounds were the rippling of waters and the cries of creatures in the dense canopy overhead. A solitary owl called out from a hidden perch; squirrels chattered in their secret language. And despite her worries, Nesha felt joy as the bear ambled under pine boughs and outstretched branches.
Eventually, though, the ice-bear paused and lay flat.
Nesha slid to the ground. Beside her were thick berry brambles, heavy with fruit. With his muzzle, the ice-bear gently nudged her toward the fruit.
“I see.” She smiled and began to pick the berries.
As she did so, the ice-bear clambered down the embankment to the swirling river. With his massive paws he pulled fish from the current.
Nesha glanced at the bear standing in the cold water, gathering food. “What a wise beast you are!”
After a while, the ice-bear had not returned up the hill, so Nesha put away the fruit she had collected and went to the top of the muddy embankment. Below her, she saw the bear looking first at the fish he’d caught and then gazing up the hill.
He has no way to carry them, she realized. Gingerly, she climbed down the slope, gripping tiny saplings for balance as she went.
“Let me,” she said, peering into the bear’s eyes. Then she blew softly on the fish, freezing them so they were easier to grasp, and wrapped them into a cloth from her pack.
The ice-bear brushed her shoulder with his muzzle in what she now knew as a friendly gesture. Then, unable to stretch out on the briar-heavy riverside, the ice-bear bent so Nesha could scramble up again.
Once she was seated, the bear rapidly climbed up the hill and resumed their path, and Nesha absently stroked her fingers through his soft fur—thankful to have a companion on her journey.
And thus Nesha forgot the sorrow of carrying a curse. Together, she and the ice-bear found a rhythm to their travels, stopping to gather food when the chance presented itself and continuing on through the still forest.
Though she thought often of her home and her father, after traveling together for a full moon’s passing, Nesha could scarcely imagine life without her ice-bear. In the evenings, they curled in a snowy nest she made for them. During the day, she traveled upon his soft fur and gazed at the increasingly cold land. Tall trees dotted the ground, and the river had a growing crust of ice upon it.
“I’ve never seen anything so lovely,” she whispered.
The ice-bear glanced back at her, with a soft almost-growl, and continued on his way.
Nesha knew the ice-bear was unusual, but as they traveled onward she realized that the ice-bear followed a definite path. When Nesha thought to suggest another way, the ice-bear plopped down and refused to move.
One night after they neared the colder lands, the bear led her to a cave. Inside the cave, spires hung like ice from above; water trickled in rivulets down those stalactites. Nesha whispered, “Where do we go? Do you take me to your home?”
The bear simply gazed at her.
“Will there be others there? What if they aren’t as kind as you?” She leaned against the ice-bear.
The bear moved closer; his muzzle pressed against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she stroked his head. She closed her eyes. “You’ve been truly wonderful, but I miss human voices. I miss …”
Nesha paused. The thick pelt under her hand no longer felt right. Instead of coarse fur, her hand rested on silk-soft hair. She jerked her hand away and opened her eyes.
A boy stood beside her. His hair was as dark as the night sky; it was so long that it fell like a heavy blanket touching the earth, hiding a human form.
“Where? Who?” Nesha stepped backward, her words tangled as she stared at the boy. Frantically, she looked for her ice-bear.
“I knew no other way to show you,” the boy was saying. He had not made any movement toward her. “Now that we’ve reached my village—”
“Village?” Nesha looked around her.
From the tunnels other ice-bears, including several cubs, approached.
The boy nodded. “My home …”
“Where is my ice-bear?” Nesha
