Amber and Clay by Laura Schlitz (easy books to read TXT) 📗

past her into the darkness of the barn. “The bear belongs to Artemis. There are places where they sacrifice bear cubs — wolf cubs, too. They drive them into a pen and burn them alive. But we’ve never done that here. Brauron has always been a sanctuary. We’ve never sacrificed a bear — only stags and goats. I don’t know what’s meant.”

“Why must the bear be sacrificed?” The words burst from Melisto. Her head shot up and she challenged Korinna with the accusing owl gaze that her mother loathed. “Artemis is the goddess of children and sucklings! The bear’s a suckling — or would be, if its mother hadn’t been killed. In the Brauron story, Artemis sent the plague when her bear was killed. What if we sacrifice the bear and she’s angry?”

“It’s a risk,” Korinna admitted. Melisto was surprised; she had expected to be punished for her outburst, not taken seriously. “And yet — the hunters traveled a long way to bring us the bear. It’s their offering to the goddess. If we don’t sacrifice it, what then? It can’t be trained. It will have to be fed. After a few months, it will be strong enough to kill.”

A loud clank interrupted her. The bear cub was playing with the bucket. It had one paw inside and was knocking it against the wall of the stable.

“It doesn’t have any water,” Melisto said defensively.

“Then go and get some,” Korinna retorted. She smiled at the surprise in Melisto’s face. It was Artemis’s own smile: sweet-lipped and enigmatic. “Did you think I would forbid it? I dislike being disobeyed, Melisto. If I have to change my orders, I will. Get the water bucket from the stall and take it to the spring. When you come back, hold the bucket while the bear drinks. It’s bound to knock it over a second time.”

Melisto paused for a moment, hypnotized by Korinna’s smile. Then she hurried back to the bear’s stall.

That night, the moon was waxing, and the sky was clear. Melisto was not surprised when the priestesses came to summon the Little Bears to the altar. The children burned incense in small clay pots and sang prayers to the goddess. After they learned a new hymn, they were told to circle the sanctuary.

Melisto’s limbs felt heavy. Even after the singing, she was half asleep. Gradually her muscles stretched and warmed. She found her stride and ran steadily. By the time the altar came in sight again, she had hatched a plan.

She made sure that Desma, the priestess in charge, counted her as she passed the altar. On her way back to the dormitory, she ducked behind a juniper bush. Once the other girls were gone, she set off for the stable.

She noticed that the two rails that served as a stable door had been reinforced with boards. Someone had decided that the bear’s prison was not secure enough. She whispered, “Bear?”

She heard a rustle and smiled in the direction of the sound. The bear was listening. Perhaps it could smell her, too. Something opaque moved in the shadows. Melisto swung herself over the stall door. She hunkered down on the hard earth.

The bear came to her. Melisto’s heart swelled. It was lonely, or it liked her; she thought it must be glad that she was there. It sniffed at her tunic, searching for the spilled porridge. Melisto patted it cautiously. It wiggled against her hand, and all at once they were playing again. The bear kicked and batted the air; Melisto tried to grab its paws; they rolled and jostled and shoved. The bear nuzzled her and tried to climb on top of her. Its paws clamped down on her shoulders. She felt its warm breath against her throat and then its tongue. It suckled at her neck, pulling the blood inside her skin.

Melisto tensed. The suction was painfully strong. At the same time, she understood. The bear was alone and wanted its mother. “I don’t have any milk,” Melisto protested, but the bear made a low humming sound, like a prolonged chuckle or a hive of bees. It sounded happy. Melisto abandoned all thought of pushing it away.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself against the discomfort. The bear continued to suckle, murmuring contentment. Tentatively, Melisto put her arms around the furry body. She did not squeeze. It was enough to encircle the bear loosely, to know that she was making it happy. From time to time, she reached up and slid her thumb between the skin of her neck and the bear’s mouth. It broke the suction, easing the pain.

She touched the bear’s shoulder hump. Her fingers felt the intertwined cords of the knot. It seemed to her that the harness must be uncomfortable. It was snug. She wondered what would happen as the bear grew.

The bear was suckling more gently now. At last it flopped down beside her, half in and half out of her lap. Melisto shivered with joy. The bear was going to sleep beside her. She leaned against the stable wall and closed her eyes, relishing the warmth and the bear’s weight.

She dozed. When she woke, she was shivering. She reached across the stable floor for the woolen sack she had noticed earlier in the day. She touched it —

— and the bear was awake. It uttered a close-mouthed shriek of rage; it leapt to its feet and scrambled up the post inside the stall. Melisto got up, baffled. She had not known that bears could climb; she had no idea what had enraged the animal. It had happened so quickly, and she was still half asleep.

The bear was huffing, digging into the weathered post with its needle claws. It climbed until its head touched the barn roof. Melisto stared at it stupidly. Then she looked down at the sack in her hand.

“Are you afraid of the sack?” she asked incredulously. Then she thought. The bear had been imprisoned in the sack, unable to move freely, perhaps