He was like the new kid on the block in downtown San Francisco. He wore his white suit, that did not have a single white spot any longer, it was sweaty and smelly. His sophisticated manners revealed his noble origin. Yet, striders avoided getting too close to him.

He roamed the streets as the displaced scrambling for food in the waste containers would haste away when he approached them. No one would dare defy his claims, though he wrangled himself to adapt to the unreceptive environment.

His hunting ground glided off the North Pole. He was Fred, a Polar Bear.


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