A farmer went into the woods for firewood—but he found something chilling encased in ice.
Henry leaned over Sophie’s shoulder to read, letting out a low whistle. “That’s… something.”
Sophie looked up, her eyes alight with the spark of discovery. “Henry, this might be bigger than we thought.”
That night, the wind howled outside the lodge, carrying the promise of a colder dawn. Henry welcomed it—the frigid air was exactly what he needed. Sophie’s parting warning rang in his head: “Keep it cold. If the ice cracks or melts unevenly, it could harm whatever’s inside.”
He had taken every precaution—extra tarps over the ice, positioning it far from the warmth of the wood stove. Still, unease gnawed at him. What if a sudden warm front came? What if a wandering animal tore at the tarp?
Determined, Henry set his alarm to wake every couple of hours. Each time, he trudged outside, flashlight cutting through the snow-heavy dark, to check the block. The figure within remained as still as stone, yet its shadowy outline seemed to breathe with the shifting frost.
Once, without thinking, he whispered, “Hang in there.”
By mid-morning, Sophie’s truck rumbled up the drive. This time, she had company.
Two figures stepped out with her: Dr. Clara Reynolds, sharp-eyed and weathered from years in the field, and Dr. Victor Yates, all restless energy and eager gestures.
“Henry!” Sophie called, waving them forward. “Meet Clara and Victor. They’re just as curious as we are.”
Clara shook his hand firmly. “You’ve got quite the find here, Mr. Calloway.”
Victor, already scanning the area, asked, “You kept it cold? No cracks?”
“All intact,” Henry assured, leading them to the shaded porch. “Still makes my skin crawl every time I look at it.”
When the tarp came off, Clara and Victor exchanged quick glances—scientists trying to mask awe.
“This is extraordinary,” Clara murmured, her glove brushing the frost.
