A farmer went into the woods for firewood—but he found something chilling encased in ice.
By the time his lodge came into view, his legs burned and sweat prickled beneath his coat despite the freezing air. He paused, leaning on the sled’s handle, eyes drawn once again to the frozen figure.
It remained still, yet in the dimming light its outline seemed… different, somehow. Was it only his imagination? He shook the thought away and kept moving until he reached the back porch. There, with careful effort, he levered the ice block from the sled and propped it against a reinforced wooden plank.
It wasn’t a perfect setup, but it would keep the block secure while he decided what to do next. He studied the frost-clouded surface, trying to make sense of the shape within. Wolf? Bear? Something else entirely? The longer he stared, the less certain he became.
The wind carried the first hints of the coming storm, urging him to prepare for the night. Still, the image of that dark silhouette stayed fixed in his mind.
“Guess we’re in this together now,” he muttered, stepping back inside. His muscles ached from dragging the load, the effort still pulsing through his arms and back. Yet it was the thought of the ice’s strange passenger that weighed on him most.
When he reached the shaded side of the porch, he wrestled the block off the sled once more and covered it with a tarp. The cold would keep it intact for now. Standing over it, he placed his hands on his hips, breath misting in the air.
The frost still clung thick inside, obscuring every detail, yet Henry’s gut told him this wasn’t just another frozen relic of winter. “Whatever you are,” he said quietly, “you won’t be out here on your own for long.”
