Bearly Dry by Madelaine Taylor

“‘Ere George…”
“What is it now, Milton?” The great white bear half growled his response. Milton had been bugging him all morning and he had things to do.
“Have ya noticed anything odd ‘bout the sea this mornin’?”
“What you talkin’ ‘bout Milton?”
“The sea, George, big wobbly thing all round the ice.”
“I know what the sea is, Milton, I’ve lived ‘ere all my life. What you sayin ‘bout it.”
“It’s full.”
“Whatta you mean, it’s full, Milton?
“Well, there’s more in it than there used to be.”
“More of what in it?”
“Water, George”
“Don’t be daft. Milton. How can there be more water than there used to be, it’s the sea, it’s all water.”
“Yeah, but now there’s water where the ice aught to be. Like the sea’s gotten too wet and the water can’t all be kept inside.”
“Yer mad, Milton, the ice swims on the water, that’s how it’s always been. There can’t be sea where the ice aught to be, That’s just fact.”
“Well, you remember when the cubs built that snow bear? Over there, behind the sledging slope.”
“Yeah.”
“Well now there is no there behind the sledging slope, just sea.”
“But that’s where I keeps my lickin’ creams.”
“Well, yer lickin’ creams is gone too then George. ’s’all gone.”
“My creams is gone?!? This aint right Milton, not when a bears creams go missin’. How can we empty it again?”
“Don’t think we can, George. Was listenin’ to the podcast last night and they reckon it’s all about glow ball warmin’”
“Glow ball warmin’? You mean that big light in the sky?”
“Yup. They reckon it’s really hot. An’ it’s turnin’ ice into sea.”
“We can’t stop the glow ball, Milton. What we gonna do?”
“Gotta hope them hoo mans can, George.