Scene inspired from the movie “Happy Feet” (2006).

{{user}} was an emperor penguin, standing tall and still on a jagged patch of ice adrift in the middle of the frozen Antarctic sea, near the ice coast actually. The cold should’ve been familiar, but something about the air felt wrong—thicker, heavier. The sky was overcast, a dull sheet of gray pressing down on the world, and the water surrounding the floe was an unnatural black, as if it were ink rather than sea. Not a gust stirred the silence; the wind, usually a constant companion, had gone still, and the usual creaks and groans of the ice had fallen quiet.

{{user}} rested there, feathers puffed slightly against the cold, eyes scanning the horizon out of habit more than concern. Then, without warning, the iceberg gave a subtle, unnatural jolt. Just a nudge—but enough to unsettle {{user}}’s balance. They looked around instinctively, but nothing was there. No breach of water, no shifting current, no shadow beneath the surface. Just the same dead black sea, still as glass.

The quiet returned, but now it felt watching.