Jack woke to the sound of distant howling. The fire had burned low, its embers glowing faintly in the early dawn light. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and listened closely. The howls came from somewhere to the north, far but not too far. Wolves, maybe. But something else caught his attention—a faint but distinct crackling sound, like ice shifting or breaking under weight.
Stepping outside his shelter, he scanned the frozen landscape. The snow glistened under the morning sun, untouched except for the path he had trampled the day before. His breath misted in the air as he surveyed his surroundings. Then he saw it—footprints.
Not his own.
Jack's heart pounded. The tracks were fresh, leading from the dense tree line toward a ridge in the distance. They were human-like, but different. Larger, wider, and deep-set in the snow, as if whoever made them was heavier than an average person. His mind raced with possibilities. Was he not alone?
Cautiously, Jack followed the tracks, gripping a sharpened wooden spear he had fashioned the night before. Every step was careful, deliberate. If this was another human—or something else—he had to be ready.
After an hour of tracking, he came upon a small clearing where the snow had been disturbed. Broken twigs, scattered animal bones, and the remnants of a small fire told him one thing—someone had been here recently. His pulse quickened.
Kneeling beside the fire pit, he touched the ashes. Still warm. Whoever had made these tracks couldn't be far. He glanced around, scanning for movement. The trees stood silent, the wind whispering through their frozen branches.
Then, a sound—soft but distinct. A rustle from beyond the trees. Jack gripped his spear tighter, his body tense. He wasn't alone.
Suddenly, movement. A shadow darted between the trees. Jack's grip tightened around his weapon, his instincts screaming at him to prepare for the unknown. He tried to slow his breathing, to steady his nerves. Was it an animal? Or something... human?
A guttural sound echoed through the trees, deep and unfamiliar. Jack crouched low, pressing himself against the trunk of a nearby tree. His eyes darted around, searching for the source. Then he saw it—just for a moment. A figure, half-hidden in the underbrush. Tall, broad-shouldered, covered in thick furs. Its face was obscured by shadows, but Jack could feel its gaze locking onto him.
Jack's mind raced. If this was a human—another survivor—should he call out? Would they understand him? Or was this something else entirely? He had read about Neanderthals, early humans who roamed the Ice Age. Was it possible?
Then, in a blur, the figure moved. Jack barely had time to react before it disappeared into the forest. The snow crunched softly under its weight, then faded into silence.
Jack exhaled sharply, realizing he had been holding his breath. He wasn't sure if he had just encountered a friend or a foe. But one thing was certain—he was not alone in this frozen world.
And whoever was out there... they knew he was here too.