Tiger Winter - 7. Name

Emmett laid out the last piece of his winter camp bed on his bedroom floor and regarded the neat and regimented rows of his equipment with pride. Even though he wasn’t going to have to trek or carry his gear across the ice or through the woods, he still packed his expedition bags with as much precision as he would if he were going to be spending a month travelling over the frozen sea. His clothes were rolled or folded into neat rectangles; his spare socks paired up and stored in plastic sandwich bags; his sunglasses were laid up next to his binoculars, outer gloves, inner gloves and stretchy fleece lined bandana; the stack of his sleeping garments sat next to the bagged cylinder of his sleeping bag, liner and the two rolls of his bed mats. He had long-johns, trousers, and waterproof salopettes. It certainly wasn’t cold enough for Emmett to require the heaviest of his polar jackets, but he had a lightweight sports jacket with a high collar, which whilst it looked like a fashion piece rather than a useful outer layer, was made by Canada Goose and was rated to keep him happily warm and dry down to minus ten. For over the top of that, and to double as his pillow, Emmett took his seal skin parka and folded it neatly to fill the missing corner of the grid of equipment.

“Hey,” Jian rapped gently on the open door with his knuckles, “getting set for your trip?”

“Yup,” Emmett touched the soft seal fur, the ash-grey colours still warm under his finger-tips. His father had given it to him when he finally stopped growing, and stitched into the fur near the collar was a piece of bone from the very first seal Emmett had ever killed in his fur. His father had carved it into the shape of a bear, with rounded edges and his nose pointing towards his feet. Bone carving was not a skill Emmett had been any good at, but his brother Logan had inherited the artistic talent too. “I love packing, getting ready and everything,” he swept an arm over the military-precise layout of his equipment, “it’s somehow reassuring.”

“Except that you could survive fine in the wild without it all, eh?” Jian sounded only faintly jealous, “you come with your own fur after all.”

“Yeah, but you’d need more than just a ratty t-shirt to survive three days in Killarney Park,” Emmett stood and picked up his parka, “here.” He couldn’t have been sure what made him do it, but Emmett draped the big coat over Jian’s head, and the slender man shrugged his way into it. The parka, which fell half way down Emmett’s thick thighs, came well past Jian’s knees and the sleeves trailed over his hands by several inches. He knocked the hood back and grinned up at Emmett.

“You’re enormous.”

“It’s not supposed to be tight.”

“I could sleep in it,” Jian wrapped his arms around himself with a happy private smile, “how come the fur feels so warm?”

“Fur holds heat better than any man-made material ever could. It’s freeze-proof and the fibres are hollow which traps air. As soon as you touch it, the fur starts absorbing heat. If I leave you in that, you’ll be sweating in ten minutes: it’s too warm to wear it in here.”

“What’s this?” Jian’s fingers stroked the little bone polar bear, “is it you?”

“Yeah,” Emmett helped lift the heavy seal-skin garment from Jian’s smaller frame, “dad made it for me.”

“That’s lovely,” Jian stopped, as though he wanted to say something else. The moment passed. “I bought you something.”

“Huh?”

Jian nipped back to his room and returned with a book: it was not the one Emmett had lent him.

“I was in town and it started snowing and I didn’t have my hat so I nipped into a bookstore and had a browse,” Jian shrugged non-committedly. “I found this, and I hadn’t seen it on your shelves, and I thought you’d like it.” He handed over the book, and Emmett took it while reading the title on the mostly white cover.

Ninety Degrees North: The Quest for the North Pole by Fergus Fleming.

“No, I don’t have it,” Emmett thumbed the pages gently, “thank you.”

“It’s OK.”

“You don’t have to buy me thi-”

Jian stopped him mid-sentence.

“What do you get the bear who has everything when he buys you boots and feeds you dinner?” Jian’s smile made Emmett’s heart do something that bordered on painful and wondrous, “have fun packing Emm.”

Emmett was half way through packing his rucksack when his laptop resting on the bed beeped tunefully at him. He reached over in between fitting his folded salopettes in beside his bed roll and answered his brother’s call.

“Hey Emm!”

“Hey Rye,” Emmett arched an eyebrow at the screen, because his brother was holding a fluffy bundle of wiggly puppy, “how’s things?”

“Good, this is Little Buddy,” all the rescue puppies were called ‘Little Buddy’. They weren’t generally around long enough to be given actual identities and the job of naming them fell to the worker’s at the rescue centre. “Are you packing for the Killarney trip?”

“Yup. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Rye frowned, but not for long. It was hard to look upset when there was a Siberian-mix husky licking the bottom of his chin with a tiny pink tongue.

“It’s the same time every year Rye.”

“That means it’ll be Christmas soon,” Rye grinned happily, “when are you coming back?”

Emmett sighed softly. This time last year, he’d already booked his ticket on the Polar Bear Express back home and was practically counting down the days until he was back north. And it wasn’t that he missed his family or his hometown any less: if anything seeing Ryley on-screen with the squirming puppy in his lap made Emmett’s heart ache harder. He had never been with anyone through the Christmas period. There had in previous years been on-and-off again lovers, but they had been casual, and there had been no talk of the holidays. Now he had a boyfriend, and Emmett knew he should invite Zeke back to spend Christmas with him. The thought sickened him physically.

It shouldn’t have. He liked Zeke well enough: they got on well, and had just enough in common to mean there was always something to talk about, but the idea of introducing Zeke to his family or ever telling the man his family’s big secret made Emmett’s stomach bunch itself up into hard knots. And then there was the fact he had, sort of and in a casually accidental manner, invited Jian home with him for Christmas on more than one occasion. He was sure that the young not-tiger hadn’t taken him seriously, but it was easy to imagine Jian in his family home, chatting with his siblings, playing with them in their fur. There would be no sneaking about, no lying, no subterfuge.

When Emmett focused on the digital image of his brother again, the puppy was gone, and Emmett was wearing his fur.

“Huurnt.”

“Oh Emm…” Rye reached out and touched the screen, and Emmett pushed his black nose against the screen in return. It would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. “Think of something happy. I got a B+ on my latest English paper. We had to write a historical account from the point of view of someone from history. I’ve been reading that awesome book you left here last time – about the history of the Iditarod?” Emmett knew the book by memory alone: a dark blue spine with a grainy black and white image of Balto, the more famous of the two lead dogs who had run much of the route to bring vital antitoxin to the town of Nome. It was called The Cruellest Miles, which Emmett thought was rather fitting as he had now travelled over much of the same land, though not by dog sled. “So I wrote mine from Leonard Seppala’s perspective. Miss Hammond really liked it.”

Emmett huffed, and sat back on his haunches with a grin.

“What about you big brother, got any new books?”

Emmett changed as he stood up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his drawer as he stepped out of sight. He returned after a moment with Ninety Degrees North.

“Jian gave it to me.”

“He bought you a book?” Rye sounded surprised, “and he got one you didn’t already have?”

“Yeah,” Emmett smiled happily. “I took him shopping in town and got him boots so that I’d have someone to play with in the snow.” Rye arched an eyebrow sceptically. “Not like that Rye!”

“Are you sure? Sounds to me like you like him.”

“Rye!”

“He bought you a book, Emm. The guy obviously knows you way better than your ‘boyfriend’ does.”

“I like Zeke…”

“I’m not the one you have to convince big brother.” He paused, listening to something Emmett couldn’t hear. “I gotta go: mom wants me help to take the pups down to the train station before dinner. Have fun with your packing Emm. And book your damn train ticket.”

“And why should I take orders from you?” Emmett grinned.

“Because I can beat you hands down at hockey out on the ice now? You’re in for a shock when you get home.”

“Hey, I’ve still got my boots and stick.”

“And you’re gonna need them. Night big bro, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And then he was gone.

Emmett finished packing his rucksack for the Killarney trip and folded his parka in at the top with just his compass, map, two pencils and his waterproof over gloves in the top pocket. His new bright yellow binoculars would live in his hands pretty much all the time. Emmett had made each of his students bring him their packing list to be checked off, and whilst only Thomas and Wyatt had forgotten their sunglasses on the list, three of the girls had tried to include makeup and hair straighteners. Emmett had told them if he saw such items, he would bury them in the snow somewhere very hard to reach. Of them all, only Liam and Felix had made no mistakes and included everything necessary on their lists.

He put the bag with his binoculars on the top near the door and headed downstairs as his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten all day, in the vain hope that Zeke would ring him, but apart from a short text wishing him luck on his expedition, his boyfriend hadn’t called. Emmett was uneasy about the whole thing, because he knew Zeke didn’t want to come over while Jian was around. Truthfully, Emmett didn’t want him over either, because he knew Jian had been able to hear them in bed together, and when he’d passed by Jian’s bedroom door at four in the morning to use the bathroom, there had been an awful green and shameful colour seeping out underneath. Jian seemed happier now, his smile warmer and softer and his eyes full of natural sparkle, and Emmett wanted it to stay that way. There was a whole pork belly in the fridge, and while Emmett began to fry a side of salmon, he cut the fatty pork up into strips.

“What are you going to do with it?” Jian smiled from the doorway and crossed the kitchen to the fridge.

“I hadn’t decided, maybe just plain?”

“My aunt does the best red-cooked pork in the world. She’s an amazing cook.” Jian licked his lips.

“What is it?”

“Slow cooked in a casserole pan,” Jian picked up the salmon by the tail section and flipped it over with his fingers, “hongshau rou is made with soy sauce and rice wine. It’s all sticky and cooked until the fat is almost jelly-like,” Jian grinned, “if you can survive on that salmon for two hours I’ll make it for you.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” Jian knocked Emmett’s bicep with his shoulder, “I’m a pretty good cook: even Yéyé says so. Move over snow-bear.”

Emmett gave up his big knife and chopping board without discussion, washed his hands and opened them a beer each. Jian thanked him without looking up, suddenly concentrated on his task, and Emmett retired to the living room lest he be caught avidly watching the young man’s neat and precise movements. There was a college hockey game on, but Emmett didn’t pay it much attention, because he was still imagining Jian being in his family home, though he had no idea if the boy would even want to come, nor if he should.

The second question was easy, because Emmett knew he shouldn’t be thinking about Jian that way, or dreaming about him naked on a nightly basis, but apparently his brain wasn’t entirely under the control of his conscience. When he’d woken up at four in the morning, Zeke naked and sated in his arms, Emmett had hugged him and managed to stop himself from whispering the not-tiger’s name. In his dream, Jian had been in bed with him, soft and sleepy and smelling of love. Emmett wished the boy had never kissed him, because he liked having Jian as a friend, and he didn’t want to think that way about his friends. Emmett turned the television down low, and buried himself in the new book Jian had given him. Books at least, were safe territory.

“If I’d known you read that quickly, I would have bought you a longer book,” Jian knocked his knee gently, and Emmett looked up to find him holding two empty plates, a large bowl of rice and cutlery, “food’s ready.”

The food, when Jian brought it, still in the casserole dish, was amazing. The pork pieces had gone a wonderful deep red colour and were sticky and almost syrupy with their glaze, the fat was just on the edge of being rendered and Emmett nearly purred as he ate the first one.

“Oh Great Spirits…That’s amazing.”

“It’s like my second favourite thing to do with pork.”

“Second favourite?” Emmett queried.

“Char siu is the best: Chinese barbecue, but it takes longer and it’s better if you marinade it overnight. Also generally you do it on slightly leaner cuts of meat.” Jian clinked their beer bottles together: Emmett had switched to buying imported Tiger Beer now, because Jian had said he liked it, “I’ll make it for you when you get back from Killarney Park.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Jian’s warm smile made Emmett’s heart lurch oddly again. Emmett tried to control the feeling. After all, Jian was just being nice to him.

They ate their pork and watched the highlights of an NHL game which they’d both missed, wincing in reflected pain when someone got thrown into the siding or the ice, grinning and cheering happily for each of the goals. As the game ended Emmett turned and found Jian looking at him. The boy glanced away quickly, but Emmett had seen the longing expression in his orange eyes.

“Emm? Can I ask you something?”

Emmett paused from clearing the plates, and frowned gently at Jian’s serious tone.

“Shoot.”

“I want- I can I see you in your fur?” he looked embarrassed to have asked. “I’ve never met any bears, least of all a polar bear, and-”

Emmett cut him off mid-flow.

“Yes. I’ll just clear the plates. No worries.”

He stacked the crockery and left them by the sink before going to stand out of sight in the hallway. Jian wanted to meet his bear, which was perfectly natural considering that he was, in essence, a shifter; and Emmett had only change half a dozen times in the past few weeks, and only in his room. He was dying for some bear-contact. On the other hand, he did not want to get naked in the same room as Jian, because already his crotch had woken up to that idea and Emmett was nursing a semi in his jeans. He stripped off in the hallway, took a deep breath, and wished they were outside in the snow.

“Emmett?”

“Haaooorm.” Emmett stood on all fours in the living room doorway and looked at his friend. Jian’s eyes were wide and amazed.

“Wow… You’re so much bigger than I thought.”

“Huurnn.” Emmett agreed.

“Can I-?”

Emmett paced forwards rather than answering the question and pushed the top of his skull under Jian’s hand. The boy froze for half a heartbeat, and then began to stroke his thick fur happily. Emmett rested his chin on the padded arm of the sofa and huffed in satisfaction. It felt so good to have someone run their fingers through his fur, and it was even better that the person doing so was Jian.

“Remember you asked me once what my name means?” Jian took a pad of paper and a pen from the coffee table, “well, it sort of depends how you spell it. If you write it like this,” he began to draw quick and soft lines over the page, making up the Chinese character 健, “it means ‘strong’. But if you write it slightly differently,” he drew something very similar, which seemed to miss out the very first part of the symbol, “it means ‘build’. My dad always writes it that way if he’s annoyed with me. He wants me to build myself a better future.” Jian sighed, “What about you snow-bear? Does your name mean anything?”

“Raoom,” Emmett shrugged: as far as he knew, it was just a name.

“We should call you Xue,” Jian ruffled the fur between his ears and grinned happily, “it suits you.”

“Wrrool?”

“If you write it like this 学,” Jian began writing more beautiful pictograms, “it means ‘study’ or ‘learning’: perfect for someone as smart as you. But if you spell it like this 雪, and it’s the same word, which is cool, then it means ‘snow’, and you’re a snow-bear.” Jian looked pretty pleased with himself, “what do you think?”

Emmett put his head over the boy’s shoulder to examine the page. The action brought them closer together, and Emmett tried not to think about the fact that he could, and desperately wanted to, wrap one foreleg around Jian’s waist and pull the boy against his fluffy chest. Instead he prodded the symbol of his new nickname with his nose without smudging it.

“Xue… it’s a good name.”

Emmett had to agree with him.

*

“Time for a spot of tenting, ladies and gents,” Emmett rested the base of his bag on the toe of his boot as he stood in the snow, overlooking the rough campsite.

There were two types of campsites at Killarney Park: the first kind were much better equipped and generally the residence of families and recreational bird watchers; the other were back country sites, much more basic and number fifty-nine on the edge of the little Bodina Lake, had been hired out by the university for the four days they were on the site. In the summer it was a rolling green field studded with stunted pines and heather shrubs, but now only the black trees stuck through the snowy blanket. There was a basic toilet block, but no showers, because the toilets were dug out for composting on the basis that in the winter the pipes would freeze anyway. The buses had dropped them a mile from the site, and several of the students had griped about the short hike; the two other lecturers hadn’t insisted that their students pack all their belongings into rucksacks, and one girl had tried to bring a hard suitcase on wheels. They had also had to carry the tents between their pairs, but Emmett had simply bound his to the top of his pack with an elastic bungee.

Emmett made the rounds with the students as they picked sites and put up their tents. Practice had paid off for Brooke and Nora, who had their tent up within ten minutes, shortly followed by Liam, who had switched tenting partners to bunk-up with Felix. Theo, Nolan and Wyatt floundered around, getting snow inside their inner liner until their classmates came to their rescue. As a whole, Emmett was proud of them. He set up his own tent in less than four minutes, whistled to his students and took his smaller day-bag to walk up the slope that lead out of the camp grounds and deeper into the parkland.

“We’re going out?” Bree asked her face flush pink from her renewed effort to hammer in the pegs around her tent.

“Yup, everyone got their kit?” Emmet ticked off the list on his fingers as the students mentally or physically checked their day bags. “Sunglasses, notepad and pens, camera, binoculars, map, gloves, spare socks, snacks, water, phone, heat pad?” Emmett had bought a small crate of chemical heating sachets. If the little metal disc inside them clicked, they became solid and heated up for a few hours and could be brought back by being boiled in water for a few minutes. They were for emergencies only, and mostly to be used in the unlikely, but potential event of one of the students immersing themselves in a snowdrift or falling into the lake. Their clothes should’ve kept them warm enough, barring accidents. “We’re going to head over to the south edge of Threenarrows Lake, there should be plenty of birds there fishing for pike, walleye and lake trout and we should get some good shots. Also the tracking monitors from one of the goose flocks shows they are in the area. It will be nice to see some of the birds you’ve been studying. Should take about two hours: remember to keep up.”

Most of the other students were staying put, but Emmett had always believed in getting everyone as tired a possible on the first day. For many of the students, it was going to be their first night in a tent, and for all of them it would be the first night in a tent on snow, and he wanted them to be tired. If they were falling down dead after dinner they would sleep better and longer full of hot food with exhausted feet. The weather was good. It was only a few degrees below freezing and there was no wind, and with the crunchy fresh snow underfoot, it was the perfect sort of day for a walk across the wilderness. It was also going to be a perfect day for spotting animals.

The walk took longer than two hours, because Felix stopped to examine the plants and lichen that grew even in the winter, took photos and recorded data. Taylor turned out to have excellent dexterity with her binoculars, and each bird call caused the group to stop, struggle for their equipment and look in her direction. It was through this method they saw their first snowy owl, his beautiful plumage camouflaging him almost perfectly as he sat at top a piece of exposed rock, looking for all the world like a snowball with acid yellow eyes. Even though they were not the same colour, the owl’s inquisitive stare reminded Emmett of Jian. Emmett had suggested in his “non-optional” tone that they get themselves some maps, and while a few of the students only drew on the most basic of lines, most of them made wonderful annotations of everywhere they went and everything they saw. Zack, who had taken the course because he liked being outdoors and because his parents wouldn’t let him go to art school, used the fine-line ink pen he’d brought to create the most wonderful little sketches everywhere they stopped or saw something. By the time they reached the lake, the route on his map read more like a wonderful picture book and Emmett was pleased. He doubted the young man would go on to work in the bio-sciences, but he liked helping the students discover their talents nonetheless.

Threenarrows Lake was beautiful in the winter sunlight, and they were rewarded for their hike by the sighting of a fishing pelican just as soon as they had sent up a little base camp to rest their legs and have a bite to eat. The razor beaked bird swirled above the lake, rising on a thermal and giving everyone plenty of time to focus on him with binoculars or camera lenses before he took his dive. He dropped like an arrow, scooped his wings as they levelled out over the lake, then opened his beak and pulled a trout from the mirror smooth water as easily as a person would pick an apple from a tree. The snap of his beak shutting could be heard in the stillness across the water, and only then did the group cheer. Emmett shook his head in wonder: even humans with no knowledge or experience of hunting for their food still felt the decent satisfaction of a meal well caught.

The students were free to explore the lake for several hours, so they watched for birds, recorded what they found, investigated shrubs and plants growing along the water’s edge, studied the rocks and minerals that made up the landscape and generally scrutinized everything they came across. Emmett had seen it all before, and left his day pack, except for his binoculars, to go and climb the steep ridge which looked out over the water and Doris Island. He had lots of favourite places in the park, and this was one of the closest. The scramble only took him ten minutes, because despite boots and gloves, Emmett had a strong grip, a longer reach than most and enough familiarity with making his way over ridges of pack ice to think of mountaineering as a fairly easy hobby. On the ridge, he settled down with his back against a piece of rock that had formed an excellent seat, and used his binoculars to scan the middle distance in a lazy sort of manner.

He could still hear the students, though he doubt they would be able to hear him, and the sounds of quiet pleasure mixed with a happy blue and spring-green scent from the edges of the lake. Emmett liked being out with the students, and though he and the two other lecturers would sit together later on in their own pseudo-privacy of being not-students, Emmett knew he had no more in common with them than he did with the ‘kids’. The nearest person he truly cared about within a hundred miles was Jian… and he was back in Toronto. A moment after the thought, Emmett wanted to be sick, because he hadn’t even thought of Zeke as someone with whom he had things in common, despite the fact they had sex on a regular basis.

A movement in the lens gave Emmett a very welcome distraction from the inside of his own skull. There were deer, a large herd of does, picking their way gently over the head land on the other side of the water, and they were aiming in the general direction of an uninhabited, as far as there were no campsites or paths, spit of land that jutted out into the main part of the lake. It was getting later, and there was enough shelter that it was probably going to end up as their haven for the night. Emmett knew the pattern of the deer’s movements well enough to be satisfied with his prediction. Tonight he would eat something fresh.

*

It was their first night, so Emmett had checked around with his students, reminded them about their layers, made sure they’d built their camp beds correctly and pointedly directed them all to the bathrooms to empty their bladders before bed. Someone always had to be last in their tent, so Emmett made sure it was him, and zipped up with a conspicuous noise before sneaking off out of camp.

It took him half an hour to jog up the path that lead around the very far end of the lake, and there he found a little dip in the land, mostly full of snow, into which he jumped and dug himself a tiny makeshift igloo. In the close white space his stripped himself of his clothes, stretched his shoulders, and clambered out again before he changed shape. Emmett shook himself down happily, and then rolled in the snow with glee. It had been so long since he’d felt the cold against his fur, and for a polar bear, that was not a good thing. For a while, he wandered aimlessly along the east bank of the lake before he encountered the path again. It was dark, the sky studded with stars, and Emmett didn’t see any reason not to slip softly into the cold waters of the lake and paddle to his destination. Every polar bear was a good swimmer, and Emmett was no exception to this rule. With just his black nose and dark eyes poking out of the water, he paddled without sound to the spur of land that held the deer.

They were not hard to find. The deer smelt warm, slightly yellowish and fearful, and even in their permanent semi-wakeful state they did not smell him coming, masked as he was by the drifting blue-salt scent of the lake water. Even in the dark, he picked out a doe at the edge of the herd. She was big and strong, and her spring fawn would be strong too; it would survive without her.

Most nature documentaries got it wrong, because a smart polar bear, even a feral one, could move near-silently if it wanted to. Emmett stuck to the bare rock and short moss where his feet would make no noise, and he was within fifteen feet of the deer when another in the herd spotted him. He ignored all of them, but ran four paces, leapt, and pinned the doe against the ground. She stared at him with wide, mad liquid eyes, still kicked, her sharp hooves seeking out his ribs and belly to try and get away. His claws had sliced through the muscles of her hind quarters, the wound was not survivable, and Emmett simply weighed her down, pulled her towards him, and sank his teeth into her neck. It only took one bite, a deep suck of warm fresh blood, and then he thumped down on her spine and the bones of her neck snapped; the light in her eyes faded, and thirty seconds later, she was gone.

Emmett dragged the carcass of the dead deer back towards the edge of the water. The blood would run down between the rocks, and the remains would be easily discovered by wolves prowling the coast. Emmett opened the deer up with a claw and ate her still-warm kidneys and liver first, and then settled down to tear strips from all the other major muscles. There was something wonderful about a fresh kill, the meat tasted better and it was always good to know that the animal had died quickly, hadn’t suffered, and had lived freely in the wild. The polar bear gave thanks as he ate; for the spirit of the animal he had killed, the life he had taken, and the fullness her body gave him. By the time Emmett was done, there was not a great deal of the deer left; torn skin, bones, and the less edible organs decorating the rocks. His fur was stained with blood: the whole of his muzzle, chest, and front paws a pinkish-red. Full and happy, Emmett thanked the spirit of the deer one last time, and slipped back into the water to swim homeward and wash himself clean.

As he reached the halfway point across the lake, the sky lit up. Emmett rolled onto his back in the water and paddled the rest of the way across until the back of his head rested on the shore line, dark eyes fixed on the dancing sky above. The Northern Lights, caused by at the same time particles reacting to geomagnetic fields, and the spirits of the dead watching over the living, swam and danced in myriad colours above him. The sky was awash with blue, pink, vivid happy green, a shade of yellow that merged with the red-hues and reminded Emmett instantly of Jian’s eyes. The not-tiger had never seen the Spirits, never known the sheer terrible joy that coursed through Emmett’s body as he lay in the water, feeling small and insignificant, yet deeply important, hoping in some peculiar way that the spirit of the deer he had killed was up there, dancing unseen in the great herd of creatures. Even if she was not thankful, Emmett hoped she was not angry.

The lights were bright, and they shone for hours, and Emmett hoped they had drifted far enough south for the residents of Toronto to see them. It would be nice to have a shared experience when he returned home. Not until the Great Spirits faded did the polar bear pull himself from the water and make his way back to the cosy igloo that held his clothes, shift and walk happily back to camp for some much needed sleep.