The frozen air sucked out my breath as I pushed forward, knowing I had to make it. The journey was hard but necessary. As I tramped over the cold tundra I had one thing on my mind, my mother's teachings still there in the deep recesses, I had to find my girl.
I am Annigan, or my nick name "the express", named after the moon because that is when my mother gave birth to me. I don't recall that time at all but my mother seemed very proud. She would show me off to the other she polar bears, telling them how I would be a great bear someday. I guess not unlike any other mother out there. My nickname came from my friend; he called me that because I always seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. My pal's name was Malina; we had been friends since we were cubs. His name meant "the sun"; I just called him Sunny on account of his almost always happy disposition. He liked nothing better than to ham it up for all those humans taking pictures when they came out to the tundra on their big machines. He was such a comedian, he relished in the spotlight. I always thought it might be better for him if he were to be captured by the humans and taken so he could star in one of those picture show thingies the migrant birds always talk about. Oh those birds, so many journeys and so many stories.
They told us about flying over places where they have a big screen and how pictures would dance on the screen. All the cars would line up and park in front to watch these dances. They liked to tease the people in the car while they would watch, their favorite thing being to splash down a wet crap on the windshields. I would laugh every time they told their stories. They told us many types of animals would be on that big screen, and the people would cheer and cry for them. I think Malina would be perfect for that job.
