July 13, 2149, Hawking

Cold morning air blew inside the cavern opening, throwing drops of rain all the way to where Grant was huddled in the corner. He opened and closed his hands in a vain attempt at warming them up. The storm had raged all night, and judging by the wind and flashes of light, he had a few more hours to go before it would dissipate. The howling had raced through the valley for the first hour, and it ceased as quickly as it began. A harmony of a thousand souls, he’d thought with a shiver at the time.

He had to get back to the lander and contact Earth with some updates. They would want to know there was life on Hawking, and he knew they would also want to know about the storms. Dawn made a feeble attempt at breaking through the thick clouds and he could finally see his surroundings. It appeared he’d missed a hole in the cavern, just tall enough for an animal to crawl into. As the room continued to get brighter he saw a pile of small bones near the hole’s entrance.

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