Setting: The Sparkling Arctic Tundra
Frost-Claw was a Polar Bear who thought he owned the wind. He was massive, with fur as white as a fresh snowstorm and claws that could crack the thickest ice. He was a great hunter, but he was also a loud-mouth. He would stand on top of icebergs and roar just to hear the echoes, scaring away the fish so the smaller seals had nothing to eat.
“I am the King of the Cold!” he would bellow. “Even the North Star bows to my shadow!”
One day, he found a Snow Petrel—a small, white bird—named Shiver. Shiver was sitting by a series of long, hollow icicles that hung from the edge of a frozen waterfall.
“Move along, feather-ball,” Frost-Claw growled. “I want to take a nap here, and your chirping is annoying.”
Shiver didn’t fly away. Instead, she tapped one of the icicles with her beak. It made a beautiful, ringing sound like a silver bell. “I cannot move yet, Great Frost-Claw. I am the Conductor of the Frozen Music. If I stop tapping, the sun will forget to rise tomorrow.”
The Polar Bear snorted. “Music? Sun? You’re just a tiny bird. I can make a louder sound with one paw!”
“Oh, I know you are powerful,” Shiver said, her eyes twinkling. “But can you play the Deep Note? It is the only sound that keeps the ice from cracking under your weight. You must put your tongue against the ‘Crystal Flute’—that very smooth icicle right there—and hum as loud as you can.”
Now, any child in the Arctic knows you should never touch your tongue to something frozen. But Frost-Claw was so busy trying to be “The Best” that he didn’t think. He wanted to show that his “music” was better than a bird’s.
“Watch this!” Frost-Claw bragged. He leaned forward and pressed his big, warm tongue flat against the smooth, blue icicle.
STUCK.
The moisture on his tongue froze instantly to the ice. Frost-Claw tried to pull away, but he was tethered to the waterfall!
“Mmmph! Hmph!” he grunted, his eyes going wide. He couldn’t roar, he couldn’t bite, and he couldn’t move. He was stuck in a very silly position, leaning against the ice wall.
“The music sounds a bit muffled today,” Shiver said, hopping onto a nearby snowdrift. “But don’t worry. The sun will rise, and in a few hours, it will be warm enough to melt you off that ‘flute.’ Until then, the fish will have a very peaceful morning without your roaring.”
Shiver flew off to find her friends. It took three hours for the midday sun to warm the ice enough for Frost-Claw to wiggle free. His tongue was sore for a week, and from then on, he was much quieter, afraid that the “Frozen Music” might catch him again.
The Moral: Impatience and vanity are the fastest ways to get yourself into a sticky situation.
Review The Polar Bear and the Frozen Music.