"Your armor's too heavy. You can't bring it." The man sitting in the boat does not flinch as Iorek huffs.

"No," growls the bear, "Panserbjørne have armor. I will swim, if I must, but I will not leave it."

"It's no good to you here," says the man, but Iorek is not listening. There is movement on the bank, dark and barely comprehensible. He removes the sky iron, sets it out of reach of the water, and then climbs into the boat.

As he glances back, he sees for the briefest moment a hare pressing her nose to his helmet.

"Your armor's too heavy. You can't bring it with you." The man sitting in the boat does not flinch as Iorek huffs, teeth clenched.

"No," growls the bear, "I will not. But I am told I go by boat from here. I do not like boats. I will swim." The man does flinch, now, surprised.

The river is soundless as Iorek slips into it. He swims forever, maybe less. Then there are bird-women who want stories. Bears are not made for stories, but Iorek smiles a smile full of teeth and begins: "He had a balloon, and a hare daemon."