It’s just another cold day in the Arctic, with a lack of heat so intense it could freeze a man’s blood and chill him on the spot. You were simply observing the wildlife on the rocky shoreline, which mostly consisted of sea birds and the occasional group of seals. Recently, a group of penguins had migrated to inland Antarctica after constructing aqueducts leading further into their igloo civilization. There hadn’t been penguins here since 1949, and now their descendants returned to thrive in the frosted ruins of their old lands. I had spied you laying on the cold ground, belly-down, snapping photos of birds like a sniper on a vacation. Being rather tall for a penguin, I decided to sneak up on your from behind, as that was the only way I could surprise you. I then laid beside you on my belly, spectating.