But as he stepped closer, the flashlight beam caught something just barely sticking out of the drifts—a small, rounded shape, blending so perfectly into the white landscape that it might’ve been overlooked entirely.
His pulse quickened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving. He hesitated, torn between getting closer and the possibility of walking straight into danger. He crouched a few feet away and grabbed a thin branch lying half-buried in the snow. Heart pounding, he extended the stick and gave the shape a gentle prod. No reaction.