It was now walking forward again. The banging wasn’t working. The bear was close.
She wondered if she could reach the rifle, lying on the ice, just slightly too far away.
She could see the bear’s vast pawed feet, armed with claws, pressing into the snow-dusted rock.
Its head was low and its black eyes were looking directly at her.
“LIBRARY!” Nora screamed. “MRS ELM! PLEASE SEND ME BACK! THIS IS THE WRONG LIFE!”
“IT IS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY WRONG! TAKE ME BACK! I DON’T WANT ADVENTURE!” “WHERE’S THE LIBRARY?! I WANT THE LIBRARY!”
There was no hatred in the polar bear’s stare. Nora was just food. Meat.
And that was a humbling kind of terror. Her heart pounded like a drummer reaching the crescendo.
The end of the song. And it became astoundingly clear to her, finally, in that moment: She didn’t want to die.
And that was the problem. In the face of death, life seemed more attractive,
and as life seemed more attractive, how could she get back to the Midnight Library?
She had to be disappointed in a life, not just scared of it, in order to try again with another book.
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