The cold winds howled through the mountains, rattling the bamboo stalks like dry bones. In the heart of the misty forest, a lone panda named Mei trudged through the thinning grove, her paws sinking into the damp earth. Her once-thick fur clung to her ribs, and her stomach ached with hunger. But she had no time to rest—her cub, Bao, was waiting.
Mei had given birth just as the harsh winter arrived, a time when food was scarce. The usual abundance of bamboo had withered under an unexpected frost, and the other pandas had moved further down the valley. But Mei couldn’t leave. Bao was too small to travel, and the journey was too dangerous.
She reached a patch of brittle bamboo shoots and began chewing, but the stalks barely gave any nourishment. With a sigh, she pulled up a few softer stems and carried them back to the hollow tree where Bao lay curled up. His tiny black-and-white body trembled, and he let out a weak cry. Mei placed the bamboo in front of him, nudging it gently.
Bao tried to eat but whimpered. He was too weak.
Panic clawed at Mei’s heart. She had to find more food—something fresh. She had to keep going.
With the last of her strength, she ventured deeper into the forest. The ground was rough, and the wind bit at her face, but she pressed on. Hours passed, and just when she thought she could go no further, she smelled something—fresh bamboo.
A hidden grove, untouched by the frost, stood before her. The green leaves swayed invitingly. Mei rushed forward, devouring as much as she could before gathering as many tender shoots as she could carry.
When she returned, Bao barely lifted his head. But when she placed the fresh bamboo beside him, he sniffed at it, then nibbled. Slowly, he ate. Mei curled around him, her body warming his small frame.
The storm outside raged on, but inside their little shelter, mother and son held onto life. Mei knew they weren’t safe yet, but for now, Bao was eating, and she was by his side.
And as long as she could fight, she would.
Animalstories 