Povesteste pe scurt textul A polar Bear tale în engleză
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The polar bear trudged through the endless white. The cold sun beat down on the desert landscape of the icy wilderness. The polar bear, starved and exhausted, lumbered across the surface of the ever-retreating ice, an ethereal ghost against the white background. She was looking for food. She always was nowadays. The seals had stayed too short a time as the ice melted early. Too early. Each year, the sea ice formed too late, and was gone too soon, leaving the polar bear to starve. Her cub had died a few days ago, not strong enough to withstand the hunger.
Her nose twitched in the wind, hoping for a scent, but there was none. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the countless days before that. Still, the polar bear went on. Life, as she knew it, was nothing more than a battle of survival; a constant struggle against the starvation that threatened to overcome her. The ice was vital for existence. It was where the polar bear hunted, where she found prey. But as time passed by, and the climate grew hotter, more and more ice melted, never to come back. The polar bear did not know why. It was never like this before. It was a desperate situation. Something she couldn’t do anything about.
As the polar bear plodded along, she noticed something to her right, and a familiar scent. She moved closer to investigate, and realised that it was another polar bear, lying in the snow. It was a large, muscular male – or used to be. Now, he was frozen, and his once-intelligent eyes were glazed over in death. His majestic body was emaciated; his powerful muscles wasted away. He, too, had been struggling against starvation. But he had lost. The scent that the polar bear could smell was death. She had known that scent from the animals she had killed before and from the body of her own cub. There was nothing left to eat; the scavengers had already visited. The she-bear turned away. It was futile to continue, but she did.
The polar bear could feel her strength draining away. Her body was weakening. She needed food, but the bear sensed that she would never find any. Each step was a gruelling challenge. Her hunger was absolute. But if she faltered, if she stopped, she would never rise again. The sub-zero winds bit at her fur, and with her reserves of blubber nearly depleted, every gust was a knife-edge slicing her body. The relentless cold gnawed her bones. The world in which she lived was a battlefield. It was ruthless – unforgiving. Time was precious. In a few weeks, she would be dead. Like the male polar bear. To become food for scavengers, or just yet another tragic testimonial to the changes that were plaguing the Arctic.
Days passed. Then weeks. But the ice did not come. And still the polar bear trudged through the endless white. Always searching. For hope. For food. For survival.