The thing roars as it rises from the glacier, towering fifty fathoms high, shaking off ice-boulders as if they were leaves that had settled on it during its long sleep. It is vaguely like a bipedal reptile, its build blocky atop its great columnar legs. The thing looks about and sees the scientists standing on the ice sheet, a thousand fathoms away.

The scientists know that it is impossible, that nothing organic could possibly be this large and live on land, certainly not stride toward them over the ice, its great thick tail counterbalancing as it leans forward, roaring again in rage. Its bones should break, its great splayed feet break through the ice. Something like this simply cannot exist.

It is unknown if this knowledge gives them any comfort as those great feet descend upon them, smashing some with mighty kicks that send their shattered bodies flying, crushing others with its fantastic weight. In moments the camp is destroyed, the scientists dead.

Something very old has returned to the world.