As the dogs and I approach home, Dad and someone are pulling apart Shemya's doghouse. Dad waves with a hand holding a hammer then he drops the hammer and stands ready to grab a hold on the harnesses of my team. I call "Whoa" at a team of wagging tails, all obviously happy to be home and looking forward to bowls of warm food.

It astonishes me to see it is Andy Chinkov reach out strong hands to catch my dog team. He gives me a sheepish look from under a hood partly covering his guilty face. It is so like my father, the school principal, to get work from the man who smashed the doghouse.

"Hey there, Brooke Anne, I see you found the lost dog," Dad says smiling as he quickly begins to release a dog from harness. "How come Shemya is riding in the sled? That's not like him at all. Is he hurt?"

"Oh, Dad, Shemya is lucky to be alive. He tore into a bear and, and...." All my breath disappears, words stick in my throat, and I sob. I run into Dad's open arms.

"Why my sweet daughter is trembling." He gives my cheek a kiss. "That tough dog looks fine. He's jumping right off the sled. Take him with you into the house. Andy and I will take care of the dogs."

His hug calms me some and slows my tears. Shemya nudges my legs so I put an arm around him and whimper to Dad, "Lots happened. That bear was after me."

"I'm keen to hear about it." He gives me another squeeze then kind of pushes me toward the house before turning to tend the dogs.

The furnace inside is in full swing letting warmth hit my face. I slip out of my parka, insulated pants, and boots, but a chill still runs through me. I head for the couch and curl up in the warm wool blanket that Mom keeps there. She calls a hello from the kitchen.

"I have hot cocoa ready, Brooke Ann, if you're through feeding the dogs."

"Okay, Mom." I don't get up. My whole body gives in to exhaustion. I'm no longer a strong dog musher that fights the trail all the way home. Shemya curls up on the floor beside me. The same wet tongue that tasted the hide of that bear licks my hand. I rest a cheek on his head and squeeze my eyes shut, and whisper, "I love you, my hero."

"I'm glad to see Shemya is back," Mom says as she comes into the living room carrying a steaming cup. She looks surprised to see me crashed on the couch. Before she can ask why, Dad comes stomping through the door.

"I couldn't wait to hear about the bear, Brooke. I left your Uncle Earl and Andy to get the dogs fed."

Concern makes mom's dark eyes grow in wide circles. "You saw a bear? Well, you've always been tough about bears. I've never seen you get shook up from spotting a bear." She rubs a hand over my back and pushes wild strands of hair off my brow. I sit up as she hands me the mug of hot chocolate.

"Bea, she has a real tale to tell." Dad hangs his parka on a closet hook then parks himself in his favorite arm chair.

"Actually, my life was saved today by Shemya." I describe sighting the bear and tell all about how Shemya protected me. "All I could do was sit on the limb of a tree and pray Shemya wouldn't get a fatal blow from flying bear claws. Over and over he bit into the bear's fur."

"That dog has always been the best. We're mighty proud of you, Shemya." Dad's voice bellows out to deaf ears, but tired eyes open when Dad pats his back.

"Your prayer was answered, Brooke Ann. Shemya is a real blessing, a hero dog." Mom kneels beside me and softly strokes his long hair.

"Well, that is one dog who can stay indoors tonight. Andy and I will get his doghouse put back together this evening."

"I was surprised to see Andy working out there." I begin to mellow out. Hot chocolate helps me feel almost normal. That and my parents oozing with sympathy, and knowing Shemya will be with me for the night.

"Trooper Russ agreed to let him out of lock-up if I see to getting him to make restitution." A grin spreads across Dad's light brown beard, hair color no doubt due his European ancestry. "I remember when Andy pulled stunts in seventh grade and I kept him fidgeting for a good hour. I loaded him with history assignments to do in my office after school for a week."

"I hope fixing Shemya's house will cure him of drunk driving his Skidoo. "

"I'm sure your father will make an impression," Mom says as she moves toward the kitchen.

Dad gives a chuckle and heads for the door.

Mom and I place a succulent moose roast on the table with mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed corn, and hot bread right out of the oven. Uncle Earl joins us for dinner and I answer a thousand questions about the bear attack. As his Native ancestors must have done, he considers the smallest details and tries to draw conclusions about the bear's behavior.

"That bear must've needed food to survive until the thaw hits." My uncle explains that the bear may be in old age and low on body fat to help it through winter in hibernation.

"Bea, your brother has the real scoop on bears," Dad says as he passes wild-blueberry jam. "How about letting me set up a lecture hour for high school kids, Earl? Like maybe next week?"

"When they hear about Shemya and that bear, all the kids will want to hear more about bears," Mom says while Uncle Earl grins and agrees with a simple nod.

Alarm hits me before Mom passes cookies around. I'll be in hot water with my best friend if she hasn't heard my fearsome story from me first. I give Shemya a plate of food laced with leftovers. When I get the dishwasher loaded, I race to my room.

Shemya follows me up the stairs. I spring on my bed and pull my soft down comforter around me. I flip open my cell phone and dial my friend's home phone since she doesn't have a cell. When I launch the bear story, I put up with screams and hollers as shock hits Amy.

"Everything is okay now, Amy. Shemya is spending the night in my room. He's calm and has a happy shine in his eyes." I gaze at the beautiful dog's head that I swear is wearing a big smile.

Amy gives me words of true compassion and it's quite a while before I get off my phone. Shemya and I go back downstairs where a nature show is on public TV. As Uncle Earl leaves, thank him for taking care of the dogs. Then with hugs I say goodnight to Mom and Dad.

I soak in sudsy water and my thoughts drift back to the panic that overtook me today. Rubbing down with a towel drives away a chill. As I snuggle under my quilt, Shemya curls up beside my bed. Listening to him breathe peacefully begins to melt away this day of fear. My prayer is filled with thanks.