Polar Bears Are Just White Bears

The crisp autumn air is quickly growing colder with each passing day and the chill is lasting longer into the day. It does not deter the young Mendacium up from leaving the den early each morning to go and explore the boundaries of his home. The rock-strewn place that the island’s land bridge deposits him onto is a big point of interest for the boy especially since his last trip out here ended with a fight against a tiger. Paws silently pad across the grass, turquoise eyes scanning for any threats that he can deter.

Ears swivel as Malico strains to listen for anything out of place and his nose constantly pulls in short gusts of air as he continuously scents for predators. Luckily, he does not have to wait too long for an unknown smell to reach his nostrils and a wicked grin flashes across his features. Swiftly, he pushes off, racing quietly through the landscape as he closes the gap between him and the beast.

A huge white creature soon comes into view and he softly growls at the lumbering beast’s back. Maybe it doesn’t hear him or, perhaps, it just doesn’t think a small pup can do much damage to it. Without stopping, Mal races up behind the creature and unsheathes his hidden claws. The obsidian daggers flash through the air, snagging the great polar bear’s back left heel and ripping several gashes into the pristine white pelt. A roar splits the peaceful morning air as the beast swings around, aiming a giant paw toward the pup’s small body.


"Malico Mendacium"