Apolar's legs dangled from the edge of the mountains, a day's walk from the mountain Village of Caiaguas. The mist of waterfalls formed rainbows just above the rivers and lakes below, breaking up the radiant green and brown vista of mounds and forests. The scenery stretched into the distant horizon of the clear early morning. Apolar’s eyes followed the geography toward the North, dreaming of what awaited him in his future adventure.

In this idyllic place, all Apolar could do was fiddle impatiently.

That impatience wasn't a usual feeling for the good-natured bear; It was something only his teacher Tormie could bring out of him. The old vicuna was a master of travel, perhaps the most experienced in the entire continent, which is why Apolar had sought him out. He was one of the only people capable of crossing Dammeris, an uninhabitable continent to the North that stood between Apolar and his dreams of snow and glaciers.

But the only thing Apolar had learned these last few days was to chew grass and stare blankly at the distance. Perhaps fine meditative teachings, but there wasn't much use to it in Dammeris. There was just chewing and staring. Chewing and staring... That was Tormie’s seventh serving today? Apolar had lost count.

"Master Tormie," Apolar approached delicately without acknowledgement from his teacher. He continued speaking anyway, "It was my understanding that I would learn some of the techniques used in crossing Dammeris."

Chew... chew... chew... No answer.

"We have been here for three days. I don't mean to rush your lessons, but I'm told that I will have a very narrow chance to cross North next year, and if I miss it, I won't be able to try again for years."

Chew... chew... chew...

"You asked me not to bring anything, so I have found shelter in the mountains and foraged for food. But there isn't much more to find around here. I have also barely gotten sleep in this gravel. I thought I had passed your tests of endurance — I will redo them if you'd like, but I still need your guidance. I don't know what is expected of me." Apolar sighed with frustration.

Chew... chew... chew... "Hmmm," Tormie said, twitching his ears. "Very well, then, I have some guidance for you... once I finish my lunch, we will be going back home."

"Oh?" Apolar’s ears perked with excitement. His boring, uncomfortable trip was nearing its end. "Should I reflect on what we have done here? Because I still don't get it."

"Clearly you didn't," Tormie spoke as slowly as ever. "As impatient as the day you arrived. You've been putting up with your training rather than absorbing it just so you are granted permission to cross?"

The unexpected aggression left Apolar looking for words. "No, that's not what I—"

"I'm not done speaking," Tormie snapped back, humbling the larger bear. "The moment you do not get what you want, you grow impatient. This will get you killed in Dammeris. If you do not accept that you are not ready to cross now and wait five— maybe ten more years, then you will die, and my effort will rot along with your flesh."

Despite the monotone voice, Apolar could tell Tormie was furious in a way he had never seen him before. Gone was the kind master who had so eagerly offered to teach him. He could barely stand to look him in the eye as shame and frustration welled up inside. He wondered if this all happened because of his simple question.

"Fine..." Apolar said, trying his best not to show how devastated he was. "I'll return to Caiaguas and work on my patience."

"No, polar bear, I said you are going home. Go back to Sadade, I trust that you can at least manage the voyage back home by yourself."

"But Master Tormie, if I don't learn the techniques to cross Dammeris—" Apolar contested.

"Then go without the techniques. My wisdom would be wasted on you, and you won't get my blessing to waste your life." Tormie dared the larger bear to talk back, but Apolar was using all his strength to stop the tears that had begun welling up in his eyes. "We return come noon. Take this time to reflect."

Apolar spent the rest of morning distraught. The view of the mountains that had once inspired hope now brought him nothing but disappointment. He wondered what he could have done differently, or what he could say to salvage this situation. He concluded it was best not to say anything now, making an appeal so soon might just annoy Tormie further.

When noon arrived, Tormie beckoned Apolar to follow him back. The trek through the mountains was steep and unstable, but Apolar had already been trained for these kinds of traversals. Tormie was much faster, which was natural for a vicuna that had grown up here. He waited for Apolar to catch up wordlessly, which made the bear feel inappropriate.

Stuck in his own mind, it took a while for Apolar to realise they were taking a much different route home than they had to get there. They entered a dark cave that stretched far beyond where sunlight could reach. Once they were in near darkness, Tormie stopped and turned to Apolar.

"I want you to spar with me," he said.

"You want me to... what?" Apolar was tired, hungry, and sad. The last thing he wanted was to end up sore and having hurt his much older teacher who must have been a fifth of his weight.

"Go on, you must be angry with me. I'm giving you a chance to take it all out."

"What? Never, master Tormie. I'm disappointed with this outcome but... I think I need to sort my feelings, not hurt someone," Apolar said.

Tormie raised a brow, his ear twitched. He got closer to Apolar, and the bear stared at him with sad, confused eyes. It almost looked like the old master might give the young pupil a hug, but the approach suddenly turned violent when the vicuna swept Apolar's legs and threw him off balance. It wasn't enough to get the bear on the ground, but Tormie followed up with a punch that sent Apolar tumbling back until he hit a wall.

Before Apolar could recuperate, Tormie threw another punch at his snout — this deflected just in time with an open palm. Apolar pushed himself against the wall to create some distance and catch his breath, but Tormie did not let up the pressure, he threw blow after blow and got Apolar retreating.

The one good thing about being a bear is that his soft fur and blubber padding dampened blunt strikes, but Tormie’s hooves still hurt.

Despite the barrage, Apolar saw an opening in Tormie’s seemingly unrelenting sequence of attacks. Perhaps due to his old age, Tormie was beginning to slow down, and Apolar exploited the opportunity to grab his master's arm and attempt to subdue him.

As soon as Tormie's arm was under the bear’s grip, the vicuna used his enemy’s own weight and momentum to throw the larger mammal over his head. The whole thing was a bait, and Apolar fell for it.

Helpless against gravity, Apolar fell for much longer than he expected and crashed on the ground with enough force to push the air off his lungs. When he came to, Tormie was staring down at him from a ledge a few body lengths above.

"Follow the path to find the way out. I'll see you at the exit, Apolar," the vicuna said and disappeared in the darkness above. "You best not linger," the voice echoed through the cave.

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Apolar took some time to recover. His body was sore, but he noticed there was some straw on the ground to break the fall. Not enough straw if you asked him. He wondered if this was some elaborate set up as he stood up and rubbed his back.

Before him was darkness interspaced with dim candles. They formed a winding path in the narrow cave. The scents ahead made no sense. Grass was a step away, yet Apolar could see no exit; a scent of fresh decay that confused his snout... The idiosyncrasy made Apolar tense up, unable to trust his most powerful sense.

He still did not want to believe that his teacher would hurt him however angry and disappointed he might have been. His aching back tried to force a correction, but Apolar ignored it. There must have been more to than he could smell.

The bear started following the candles, hoping for an exit. Sure enough, it did not take long for Apolar to find sunlight streaming into the cave from an opening not too far from him. His nose contradicted the information; he could not pick up anything from coming from the outside except the sickly fresh decay — gone was the scent of grass from before.

Apolar eagerly approached the exit while ignoring the obvious contradictions, staring at the bright spot of light. Just as he reached his hand into the sun, he noticed there was no exit before him, only a continuation of the candleflames on the cave walls. Apolar swore he had felt the warm sun on his hand if only for a moment.

He wondered if the light of the candles had played a trick on him, but there was nothing reflective where he stood. He put the confusion out of his mind and kept on going, following the candles further and further up.

He kept going as long as his legs would take him. The path had become steep and slippery to the point he felt he had to dig his claws into the rocks just to avoid falling. He kept climbing and climbing until he took a break to breathe, exhausted.

The geography of this place made no sense, he should have been out of the cave by now after following a single direction so far up, but here he was, feeling as if he had made no progress. No, he didn't just feel it, to his left was a familiar ledge; it was where Tormie had pushed him down.

Apolar's heart begun to race. It was impossible to climb so far and yet get nowhere. There was only one direction he could go, yet he had ended up where he started. Furthermore, the place where he first arrived was longer horizontal, it had tilted up. And that sickly scent drowning his nose... It wasn’t as strong near the ledge before.

The incongruency of it all made Apolar's head spin. In a moment of desperation, he tried climbing the ledge where Tormie had thrown him off. It was hard and slippery, but he managed to get over the edge by spending some of his sharp claws.

As the bear dusted his fur and ornaments, thinking he should have done this in the first place. He started to walk forward, hoping the way his teacher had taken was easier than his own. And yet, something still felt wrong. He could not pick up Tormie's tracks, only the decay buzzing in his nose and filling his lungs, stronger with each step he took.

The cave went on and on until Apolar reached a path of candles illuminating the way. Their arrangement was quite familiar, in fact, too familiar. Apolar looked up and saw the edge where Tormie had pushed him, looming above his head as if he had never climbed it. Before him was the path forward, taunting him with its infinity.

The bear ran, uncaring that the way was barely illuminated. He just had to get out.

The only thing warding off panic was trust in his teacher. Trust that Tormie would not put him in serious danger, but even that was beginning to wane. As he ran through the candles, it was as if the path narrowed with each step. The ceiling and walls closed in and the rock brushes against his shoulder until Apolar had to squeeze just to keep making progress.

A few more steps and Apolar reached the end of the cave, a dead end illuminated by a candle on the wall. Apolar touched the rock in disbelief, pondering how this was possible — how any of the things he had experienced were possible.

His breathing had become laborious — further intensified by the narrow passage that no longer allowed his chest to expand fully. In his exhaustion, the bear hadn’t noticed the how overwhelming the scent of decay had become. his nose finally afforded him some information about the position of whatever caused it. Through the gentle gradients in the air, Apolar could tell the decay coming from where he had just been and approaching.

Slowly, Apolar turned. Before him was a darkness folding into the shape of a predator. The vision shifted like smoke, unclear features morphing continuously until the bear saw a set of eyes staring at him with dangerous intent, teeth glimmering in the candlelight.

“Who are you?” The bear asked. “I’m not here to cause you harm,” He said, but whatever that thing was, the bear’s words did not seem to dissuade its destructive intent.

Apolar reached for his obsidian knife but found nothing on his belt; as instructed, he had left everything behind before coming on this trip.

The thing moved forward and Apolar squeezed himself against the tight cave like a cornered animal in a trap. He looked back at the monster closing in, back against the dead end, until the wall suddenly gave way and he fell backwards into grass.

It was night, the moon was full, and the sky was clear. Apolar's heart raced as he looked at the cave mouth before him. He crawled on his back a few paces, then took the time to absorb his surroundings. The quiet, the fresh scent of the trees, the chilly air, and, just by his side, Tormie.

The vicuna looked regretful. He approached Apolar slowly, holding the pupil's arm in his hooves and inspecting them. Apolar hesitated to allow Tormie to touch him, but the smaller mammal grabbed some ointment and applied to a scratch Apolar hadn't even realised he had.

"You are in better shape than I expected," Tormie said, handing Apolar a waterskin. The bear accepted it, he hadn't noticed how thirsty he had become.

"We can do this later — There is something dangerous in there! We need to warn the others about it and—"

"I know, young bear. Don't worry, we're safe," he defused the panic quickly. "I apologise for the rough treatment, but it was necessary if you want to learn to cross Dammeris."

Apolar stumbled on his words, wondering if Tormie was serious. The vicuna stared straight into the bear's eyes with sincerity and kindness, the same he had offered when Apolar asked him for guidance the day he arrived in Caiaguas. Apolar was willing to believe him.

"I thought you said you were not going to train me anymore.”

"That was..." Tormie searched for a word.

"A lie?" Apolar said hopefully.

"I was going to say misdirection. But whichever word we use, please know I did not do it out of cruelty. The curse in Dammeris is a fickle thing that uses your mind against you. The cave you were in has similar effects to the real thing, except it won't kill you... as far as we know."

"It was a test?" Apolar said, asking if he had passed with an expectant stare.

"No, young bear, it was a sample of the real thing to make sure you want to go through with it. There is no way to know how you will react to the curse when you confront it. And as a mere shadow of the real thing, I had to make you angry and frustrated so the curse would truly manifest itself. If you were thinking straight, it wouldn’t be as effective." Tormie explained, finishing patching the bear up and then sitting in front of him.

“If you wanted me more scared, you could have forgone the candles.”

Tormie looked amused, “Is that what you saw? I didn’t set any candles there, Apolar. The cave has no definite properties besides an entrance and an exit. Whatever you saw in there, you conjured it. It seems like you expected to have some guidance from me — even after I beat you up — so that’s what you saw.”

“No candles… but they looked so real,” Apolar mumbled to himself. “So, the curse makes you lost? Tricks you into seeing things?" Apolar asked.”

"That is only a part of one of the four aspects of the curse. The real thing wouldn't just warp your surroundings, it would warp your body and mind until you are crazy or dead. But I will teach you all of this in time.

“Now that you know what awaits you," Tormie continued, "are you sure you wish to cross Dammeris into Cajuara?"

"I want to say yes, Teacher Tormie, but what use is dreaming of going North if I die on the way? I spent a few hours there and... if that's just a sample of what awaits me, I have no chance against the real thing." The disappointment in Apolar's voice was palpable, but Tormie was quite happy with this answer.

"That is wise of you, young bear. Do not worry, I will teach you how to circumvent the curse. We have herbs that can help set your mind and curse at ease for the longer trek. You need to train your senses and mind to avoid being caught in the curse. But you will do just fine," Tormie reassured.

"You really think so?" Apolar's eyes twinkled.

"I know so. It was hard to get you upset with me, I'll tell you. I've grown quite good at unbalancing my recruits and most people can't last a few hours, much less days. That's usually a good indicator if the training will stick. That's not to say you can take it easy. Usually, we cross Dammeris into Cajuara with a group, and having some companionship along helps steady the mind. Doing the crossing alone…" Tormie chuckled to himself and looked up at the sky, feeling the cool breeze. "Nature and Death are watching your choice today, let us hope it means you will have their blessing, whatever you choose. If you accept, your training won't be easy. You will be back in that cave a lot more before I deem you ready to cross Dammeris. But the choice is yours, Apolar. The curse is dangerous and there is no shame in giving up. But know that if you accept, I will not allow anything less than all your dedication into my teachings," Tormie said, then stood up and offered his hand to Apolar.

The bear looked back at the cave, then at his teacher's hand. With courage and determination, he took the hand.