I heard it calling through the cold; across the snow-clad slopes it came; fragments of a message were all I could make out. What did it say? Who was it? Why was it speaking to us?
We schussed towards from whence it came.
“Jake, can you hear it?” I asked.
“Look, a bald eagle?” he replied.
We came to a stop. I could hear it now. So could Jake. The voice cried out as clear as the blue sky that shone-down on the freshly fallen snow ahead of us. Like a siren’s song, its message was obvious yet obfuscating. We both knew and did not know what we needed to do, and so we acted fast.
I don’t want to tell you what it said, for if I do you’ll be forced to suffer as we were, but sadly I must.
The voice said: “Clams in your dessert.”
And then it was gone.
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