Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 Jackson dropped to his knees and studied one of the paw prints. It was massive—bigger than his own two hands put together. The toes were spread about an inch apart. Above each toe print was a dot. Those were where the tips of the bear's slashing claws dug deep into the snow.

Grizzly for sure. Jackson had learned to read animal tracks before he'd learned his ABCs. "This makes no sense," Jackson said, standing up. "How could a grizzly be here?" At this time in March, bears were supposed to still be hibernating. During the fall, they gorged themselves on roots and fish and whatever food they could find. Then they curled up in hollow trees or beneath rocky ledges and went into a kind of sleep. They stayed hidden away until at least late April. That was one good thing about winter in Alaska—not worrying about grizzlies. "It's a winter bear," Mom said in a low voice. The two words—winter bear—turned Jackson's blood to ice. It was what they called a grizzly that came out of hibernation before it was supposed to. Winter bears were rare—Jackson had never seen one with his own eyes. But he'd heard terrifying

stories about bears that crawled out of their dens way too early, desperately hungry. But where could a bear find food in the winter? Fish were sealed away under the thick ice. Small animals were tunneled into winter dens, deep below the frozen ground. Berry bushes were bare. That's why winter bears found their way to cabins, to humans. It was rare for a grizzly bear to attack a person. But winter bears were different. They would eat anything—or anyone—they could find. "Stay close together," Mom said now. Dad clutched his rifle. He'd never shoot an animal unless he had a good reason. Jackson hoped this wasn't one of those times. Jackson narrowed his eyes, searching for the bear in the gathering darkness. He saw a pile of its scat—grizzly poop—and more huge paw prints. But he couldn't see the bear anywhere. "Could it be gone?" Mom asked. Jackson's hopes rose.

But then came a loud crash from inside the cabin. Jackson's heart stopped. The winter bear… that beast was in their home! "We have to stop it!" Mom cried, lunging forward. "Deb!" Dad barked, grabbing Mom's arm. "You know that's too dangerous!" "But, Bruce, all our food…" The jars that filled their kitchen shelves—the preserved moose meat, jams, and berries. The can of salmon they were saving for Dad's birthday next month. Bags and boxes of rice and beans and noodles. The grizzly would knock all the jars onto the floor, shattering the glass. It would slash through the bags and boxes, bite through the cans. The bear would eat all it could. What it left behind would be filthy and ruined. Jackson took a breath, trying to calm himself. But then he heard other sounds. Crackle. Pop.

Jackson's eyes widened as smoke started seeping from under the front door of the cabin. "Fire!" Jackson shouted. Dad whispered a curse. "The bear must have knocked over the stove!" Their heavy metal stove, which kept them warm, where Mom cooked their food. They always tamped down the fire before they left the cabin. But a grizzly could have knocked it over, scattering glowing embers, bits of wood that could ignite a fire.

Whoosh! Jackson leapt back as flames shot through the cabin roof. The darkening sky glowed bloodred, and showers of sparks filled the air. Panic shot through Jackson's body. But there was nothing he—or anyone—could do. There was no fire department here. No neighbors to rush over with buckets and hoses.