Polar

She yawned, stretching her arms out, out and out, down and down. Fingers bent and retracted around the thick and heavy palm. The ex-hands hit the cold, snow-dusted floor of the polar weather research station with a thud. She shook herself mightily, billowing out her rich olive skin, breathing in and in until it split and fell away, revealing the thick golden-white fur beneath. She tested a little roar and saw her breath in the cold air, the heating off and doors now hanging open to the arctic winds.

Two more thuds sounded behind her, two grunting roars of pleasure, anger and frustration that echoed around the empty room. What a turbulent mix of emotions ran through the trio. The anger, isolation and impending doom was momentarily outweighed by the sheer joy of resuming their proper shapes again, unrestricted by ungainly human form. The bears turned to look at each other, bathing in the sight of each other, their magnificent paws and mighty bellies, the glory of their fur and the ice of their eyes.

“Well,” said the leader Atiqtalik. “It’s over.” The other two looked forlorn, lost, defeated. Atiqtalik’s daughter Tapeesa raised her eyes to meet her mother’s hard icicle gaze.

“All these years. All this time, living among them, living as them, warning them!” Tapeesa’s fierceness rumbled through the words, the tearing, clawing pain an open wound in her heart. Uukkarnit growled like rumbling, rolling thunder, reared up and slammed his front paws down on the floor.

“Ignorant children! We told them! But they are human and cannot understand. They closed their ears and eyes to the world around them, and they poison everything they touch.” Atiqtalik nodded her head sadly.

“They are children, but I had hoped they would learn, somehow, eventually. Some of them here did”. Uukkarnit started to protest, but Atiqtalik raised her paw for silence. “No, some of them here did, you know that is true. They tried to pass our warnings on, sending the data, showing how our world is dying, melting away year by year.”

“It didn’t help in the end though, did it?” said Tapeesa. Her mother sighed heavily.

“No my flower, in the end it did not. We failed.”

Many years before, Atiqtalik, Tapeesa and Uukkarnit had been charged with this task. During one of the long arctic winter nights that stretched backwards and forwards into a frozen eternity, they had gathered in the council that met every nine years. The stars were blazing, shining down their bright, sharp light onto the vast landscape of frozen snow and ice, a purity of starkness that sang in the hearts of the polar bears that gathered there.

Over a long time during the endless night, the bears moved their magnificent and ponderous bodies about in shuffling dances, singing joyful and mournful songs to the distant stars, and the moon that waxed and then waned under their frosty gaze. Chill blizzards raged, sweeping all before them, except for the bears, who kept to the ancient rhythms of their steps and their songs.

After some time had passed and yet had stood still, the Great Spirit Bear arrived, in a cascade of spirit fire and ice winds. The council gathered around the Great Spirit Bear and waited anxiously to hear what was to be pronounced. These past few years it was undeniable, all had seen the creeping changes in the great and groaning ice. Melting earlier and further, returning later and lesser. A sense of unease had been building in the bears, dogging their footsteps to the council, tracked across the eternal landscape.

“We must show the humans what they are doing, we must bring them here and let them see”. Great Spirit Bear’s voice was like glass chimes and diamond bells, ringing clear and crisp, cutting through the howling winds. “They do not see the changes they have wrought here, the dying of our world. They must be brought here and they must see with clear eyes and open minds.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered white bears. Atiqtalik stepped forward, mother of mothers, elder that carried the wisdom of icebound seas and fierce, scouring winds. 

“Great Spirit Bear, how can we show them? They cannot see or hear us, they do not understand the songs that blow over the snow or the messages scattered by the sun and stars.”

“You are right Atiqtalik, they cannot speak or hear spirit anymore. So we will have to speak to them in a way that they understand. They are coming further north to build a weather station. We will join them, show them the way, show them what is happening, so that they can spread the word to the rest of the human world.”

A snuffling, roaring clamour broke out. Once, the polar bears had often shape-shifted into human form, bringing magic and wise teachings to the young peoples that had found a home in this icy and inhospitable land, so full of wonder and death. But that was a long time ago, and no one had shape-shifted for a long time. The only bear alive that had ever done it was Atiqtalik. She slowly made her way into the middle of the circle of the council and bowed her head to the Great Spirit Bear.

“Thank you Atiqtalik, I knew I could count on you. But we need two more!”

Tapeesa saw her mother standing alone. She was strong as glaciers and wise as the night, but she had seen many long summer days and winter nights, she would need support. Tapeesa stepped forward, paws dancing lightly on the wind-blown snow. Atiqtalik nodded at her daughter, pride swelling her heart.

“Welcome Tapeesa,” said the Great Spirit Bear.

Tapeesa’s heart was thumping, anxiety and excitement mingling in her wide snowy breast. Uukkarnit’s eyes lighted with a fierce pride and longing, seeing Tapeesa step forward to take her place by the Great Spirit Bear. He stepped forward, then with a great roar, he ran, huge paws smashing the ground with the energy of warrior youth. He slowed, face to face with the Great Spirit Bear and felt his heart sink a little. This was no small task and would require great delicacy and great patience, two qualities that he was not well-known for.

The Great Spirit Bear saw this written plainly in the strong lines of Uukkarnit’s face. “Humility will do well over the next few years”, said the Great Spirit Bear, and Uukkarnit took his place next to Tapeesa, pride swelling his chest again as he felt her warmth beside him.

Over the next few months, Atiqtalik taught Tapeesa and Uukkarnit how to shape-shift, how to talk to humans, how to behave around humans. She taught them to see the weave of magic, to capture it from the land around them and subtly weave it into their fur, their skin, their bodies. They became used to the tight restriction of the skin and the ache in their back and hips from walking upright all day. The world seemed to shrink somehow in human form, the raw and wild power of the smells and sounds and sights of their arctic home diminished.

Eventually they were ready and took up residence in the polar weather research base with a few pioneering human scientists. It took time to adjust to being inside a building, to eat only human food, speak only human tongue. Atiqtalik sifted through memories long-buried in the sands of time and found her way to humanity quicker than the other two. Her tongue found a lightness and quickness that helped to bring the bears closer to the humans.

Tapeesa struggled, but never gave up. The looks of encouragement and pride that flowed from her mother and wrapped her were enough to keep her trying. Besides, she had found living among humans fascinating. Some were so heart-open and so loving of their land, it was almost like being with bears. Some were colder and harder than the icicles that adorned the weather station, like a jewelled necklace. There was some doubt that worried at her peace of mind, but whenever she saw her mother’s satisfied smile, she put away her doubt and worked harder on those most receptive to their sacred task.

Uukkarnit felt bewildered most of the time. These humans didn’t make any sense, locked up in their hot wooden boxes instead of out in the invigorating arctic wind. Their food was awful and they talked nonsense all the time. Everything seemed slow, and he didn’t understand why they couldn’t see the truth and just get on with fixing it. He’d had several outbursts, frustrated with the apparent stupidity of the humans, but had gradually learned to control them. Or at least delay them until he was alone, or with Atiqtalik and Tapeesa.

The three bears worked tirelessly, using the language of science to show the humans the danger this world was in, the crisis that leaked out of the shadows to eat away the ice and snow, a ravening monster that devoured and destroyed. It took some time, but the scientists started to become alarmed at what they saw, and started to send back reports, letters, messages and studies.

Some scientists remained strictly scientific, distant and untouched by the austere beauty, and saw the changes only in terms of how it would affect humans. Some became snow-enchanted and saw through the howling emptiness to the glacial awe of the frozen arctic, their eyes opened to the magic of the northern lights. They started to hear the songs on the winds and see the messages frozen into water. These were more urgent, more insistent with their findings, strident in their warnings, forceful with their messages.

When the three bears saw this, at first they were excited. Especially Atiqtalik, who had once danced among the indigenous arctic peoples. The memories she had dusted off spoke to her of when one of the tribe had been taught a lesson by spirit, it would be taken into the tribe, understood, explored. Maybe the humans hadn’t forgotten everything. Maybe they could learn to listen again. She felt a weight lifting from her old shoulders.

But time dragged on. Reports and warnings still went, but nothing seemed to be happening. Uukkarnit took to disappearing when he could, shaking off his human skin, feeling his paws on the ice and gales blowing through his thick fur, sickened with anger. Tapeesa longed to join him and run free, but stayed with her mother who was slowly becoming more and more desolate.

Years slipped by, scientists came and went, the most vocal, most strident went sooner, pulled back by their government. The bears despaired, but went on, winding the thin strands of hope around their hearts. Twice they met with the council in those years, mournful and despondent, but each time renewed by Great Spirit Bear, exhorted to continue their work.

More and more scientists were called home and not replaced. Finally, the last of the scientists were called back and the weather station was decommissioned. Atiqtalik, Tapeesa and Uukkarnit stayed to see the last leave, departing in a helicopter, tears rolling down their human cheeks, freezing to their human skin. 

When they were truly alone they shifted back to bears, relieved to finally be themselves, heartbroken at their failure.

“We have failed,” echoed Tapeesa.

Uukkarnit growled and swiped a mighty claw across some remaining equipment, crushing it. “What do we do now?”

“The council meets in two month’s time. We will go and let them know that it is over.”

There was a funereal solemnity to the council this time, the third since the council that they had been charged with living among the humans. The winds were still and the forlorn songs of the stars fell clearly, settling in drifts of sadness about the bears.

Atiqtalik told their story, and how the weather base was now deserted. No help was coming, no change would happen. They were alone and their world was dying.

“What do we do now?” they cried out. “What have we left?”

The Great Spirit Bear hushed them, gathering them to her, like a mother with her children.

“We must wait, and hope. That is all that is left to us now.”

© Elena Tornberg-Lennox 2022