We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it.
The wind howled around us, shrieking like it was full of ghosts. I did my best to dismiss that image from my mind. This was a time for professionalism, not superstition. I had to keep my mind clear and focused.
There, buried amidst the white snow and jagged grey rocks, was the body, frozen solid. Frost wrapped tight around leathery muscles and skin.
Some people would have thought that it was only days old, but my team and I knew better. Extremes preserve corpses remarkable well. Dry heat gives us the Egyptian mummies. Cold like this gave us Ötzi the Iceman.
This body had been here for thousands of years, recently exposed by shifts in the snow.
“Secure the area,” I ordered. “We don’t want anyone seeing this.”
“What is it?” one of the team asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it certainly isn’t human.”
Word Count: 146
This is my second entry for Flash Fiction For The Purposeful Practitioner, which is run by rogershipp. Follow the link to see the prompt and other entries. Image is from http://publicdomainarchive.com/public-domain-images-mountains-snow-birds-white-black-grey-fog/.