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The sea stretched out in every direction, a cold, gray canvas under an even grayer sky. A single, small piece of ice floated on the surface, a fragile island in an endless ocean. On that ice sat Lyra, a polar bear with a coat as white as the snow she no longer saw, and in her arms, her cub, Koa. He was small, his fur still soft and fluffy, a tiny bundle of warmth against her chest.

Lyra had lived her whole life on the great northern ice. She knew the feel of a solid sheet of ice stretching for miles, the sound of the wind whistling across its vast surface, the deep, satisfying crunch of a seal’s bones. But those memories were now like ghosts. For weeks, they had been traveling, hopping from one shrinking ice floe to another, the distances between them growing wider and wider. The land was far behind them, a distant memory of rock and snow. They were adrift.

Koa whimpered, a small, sad sound. He was hungry and his tiny paws were cold. Lyra tightened her embrace, pulling him closer. “Shhh, my little one,” she whispered, her voice a low rumble. “Be brave. We are strong.” She licked the top of his head, tasting the salt from the spray of the waves. She knew she had to stay strong for him. He was the future, the last hope of her bloodline, and she would protect him until her last breath.

She scanned the horizon for any sign of land, any hint of a larger ice sheet. But there was nothing. Only the monotonous, gentle swell of the water. The sun was a pale orb, offering no warmth. The cold seeped into her bones, but the cold she felt in her heart was a far deeper ache. It was the sorrow of a mother who could not provide for her child, the fear of an old world melting away beneath her feet.

She looked at Koa again. He was asleep now, trusting and innocent, curled up in the cradle of her arms. He didn’t understand the peril they were in. He didn’t know that the world his ancestors had roamed was disappearing. For him, this was just a journey, a long ride on a boat made of ice with his mother.

A sudden wave hit the floe, and a piece of their small island broke off and sank into the dark water with a soft splash. Lyra felt the shudder of the ice and held Koa tighter. The piece they were on was getting smaller. There was no escaping the truth. They were running out of time.

Lyra looked up at the sky, her dark eyes filled with a desperate hope. She held her son close, her heart aching with a love so fierce it was almost a pain. This was all she could do now: cling to this last, fragile piece of home, and protect the one she loved more than life itself. She was a mother, a guardian, a last remnant of a world that was slowly slipping away. And as the tiny island of ice floated silently in the vast, empty sea, she gave her son the only warmth and comfort she had left to offer. It was a love that would never melt, even when the world around them did.