Many of the books that Hemming had read mentioned fossils and some even had pictures, but the wolf had never held one himself. His fingers continued to trace the outlines of the shells as he marvelled at the age of the piece, images of what life might have been like back then flipping through his mind without being called up. Oh, if only he had some of his books with him, he could consult with their yellowing pages and their greying photographs. Maybe he could even figure out how old the imprints were, and what they might of belonged to. For now, he imagined them as clam-like creatures, making their way along the bottom of the ocean as prehistoric sharks knifed though the waters above.
The gray wolf didn't notice the other until his paws appeared in his peripheral vision, a few feet off to his side. He looked up, a smile tugging gently at the corners of his lips. The other's question pleased Hemming, for he always liked to share the little things that brought him joy. Holding the fossil with two hands, he turned his body around to face the other squarely and put the object down between them. "Take a look," he said, excitement evident in his voice, "I think it's a fossil... These creatures must have been buried in this sand, which must have then compacted and trapped them for... millions of years." There was a slight inflection in his voice at the end, betraying his uncertainty. Hemming ran a finger along an edge once more, absolutely fascinated by this little discovery. |