Great Bear Lake by Erin Hunter Page A

both ways cautiously before venturing across, with Toklo and Ujurak close behind her.
    On the other side of the stone path she followed the flat-face wall until she came to a gap blocked by wooden bars. Peering through, she saw an open, grassy enclosure at the back of a flat-face den; two of the big silver cans stood invitingly near the door.
    Lusa sniffed, and her mouth started to water as she took in the tempting scents. “There’s food in there,” she said, dipping her head toward the cans. “Can you smell it?”
    Ujurak nodded, but Toklo beckoned Lusa toward him with a jerk of his head. She padded over, blinking to get a piece of grit out of her eye. The firebeast had spat it at her as it roared past.
    â€œWe can’t go in there,” Toklo growled. “There’s nowhere to hide.”
    Lusa let out an exasperated sigh. Did Toklo think the flat-faces were going to come out and give the food to him? They could only get the food if the enclosure around the den was empty. Didn’t he know anything about flat-faces? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe proper bears, bears who had always lived in the wild, didn’t have to know about getting food from flat-faces. She felt her shoulders sag.
    â€œOkay,” she said. “We’ll find somewhere better.”
    Silently they crept farther along the wall. The next gap opened to reveal an enclosure edged with thick bushes; the grassy space between them had another thicket in the very middle. Two more silver cans stood by the door, giving out more tasty smells.
    â€œThis is better,” Lusa whispered. At least there were places to hide. Was that what a proper bear would look for?
    Without waiting for Toklo to disagree, she clambered over the wooden bars and pushed her way underneath the nearest bush. Peeking out, she saw that one window of the den was lit, casting slices of yellow light on the grass, but thin, sharp-edged pelts were pulled across most of the gap; the flat-faces inside wouldn’t be able to see her.
    She shifted over to give Toklo and Ujurak more space as they wriggled under the branches to join her.
    â€œNow what?” Toklo grumbled, squirming to unhook a twig from his ear.
    â€œI’ll go open the cans,” Lusa replied. “You two watch whatI do, then you can try next time.”
    She slid out of the bushes and crept across the grass, keeping the central thicket between her and the den. She was more confident now; it felt good to be taking the lead and showing the others what she could do. When she reached the main clump of shrubs, she paused to check out the den. Flat-face voices came faintly from it, but the door and windows were all closed. Lusa emerged from her hiding place and padded across the grass to the silver cans.
    Prying up the lid of the first can with her claws, she managed to lower it to the ground with no more than a few scraping noises. She cushioned the can with her paws, so it wouldn’t give her away by clanging when she tipped it over. Two bulging shiny black skins tumbled out. Her mouth watering from the delicious smells that wreathed around her, Lusa ripped into one of the skins.
    Among the flat-face trash she spotted a few of the potato sticks she had found before. Shoving her snout inside the skin, she crunched them up, reveling in the strong, fatty taste. Guilt swept over her as she remembered Toklo and Ujurak; glancing over her shoulder, she could make out their eyes gleaming from the edge of the bushes. But there weren’t many sticks, she excused herself. Not enough to share .
    Lusa investigated the other skin, but there was nothing in there good for bears to eat. She turned to the second can, but this time the lid was stuck; when she tugged at it with her claws it shot off unexpectedly, clattering down on the path beside the door.
    Lusa froze, her ears flattened. Before the noise had died away, a dog started barking inside the den. All Lusa’s instincts told her to flee.