The Great Bear by David A. Robertson

Author:David A. Robertson [Robertson, David A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PRH Canada Young Readers
Published: 2021-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

They had berries, fish, bannock, and sweet tea for breakfast, and the food was fresh and bursting with flavor, the way food straight from the land tastes. Mihko explained to the children that they’d need to fill up for the journey, that they wouldn’t stop until lunch, when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. After breakfast, they packed what they’d need—materials for the tent, preserves to eat until they could catch and pick food, extra clothing, tools—and left Misewa, each with a pack on their shoulders.

The sun had yet to rise, and the midnight blue of the sky had only just started to shift to a lighter shade. All the other villagers were still asleep; there were no lights behind shuttered windows, no smoke rising from longhouses and teepees. Only when Morgan looked up into the trees did she see a sign of life: one of the seven birds that lived in the wigwams high above.

Just like Tahtakiw the crane, who’d fled Misewa with Mason after the human had stolen the summer birds, and Oho the owl, these birds looked almost exactly like any other bird she might have seen flying around back in Winnipeg, on earth. But the protector bird was much bigger, maybe two or three feet high. And their feathery fingers were more functional. This bird had one wing tip wrapped tightly around a sharpened staff, a particularly dangerous-looking weapon. Not as dangerous-looking, though, as the sword strapped to their back. Their white breast was puffed out and burned bright in the dim light of the breaking day. If they noticed Morgan, they gave no indication. But she couldn’t take her eyes off them, as surely as they could not take their eyes off the Barren Grounds, scanning all the way to the west and all the way to the east. Keeping watch diligently.

Morgan, close enough to Mihko, tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it, Morgan?” Mihko asked quietly, not wanting to wake any villagers.

Morgan pointed at the bird outside of the wigwam, perched on a thick branch, staring off across the land that surrounded the village. Mihko nodded, then looked away, as though even looking at the bird would disturb their duty.

“That is Pip.”

“Pip?” Morgan repeated. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t make fun of anything to do with Pip,” Ochek said. “Especially not his name.”

“No, I’m not, it’s just”—Morgan tried to think of the right thing to say—“that’s such a fantasy creature name. If I were writing a fantasy story, I’d totally name a character Pip.”

“I think it might just be short for something else,” Eli said. “Pipisché?”

“Ehe,” Ochek said. “Robin.”

“Robin?” Morgan took another look at the bird, who was just barely still in view. “But shouldn’t he have a red breast, then? His breast is white.”

“We both know not everything is the same here,” Eli said. “Robins just might have a white breast.”

“Good point,” Morgan conceded. “Robins are also not, like, a couple of feet high on earth.”

“Exactly.”

“Pip is the leader of the seven Bird Warriors who watch over this place,” Mihko said.

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