We stood silent, and felt the temperature rise a little, as morning light reflected on the monolith. We moved a little closer, you held my hand tighter. Was that a shimmer on the surface of the rock?
“It’s alive, and it has sensed us”, you said very low. “It knows we are here, perhaps even who we are.” The ground was still frozen, except for a circle around the stone. “See the markings: it’s a sentinel…”
More stones were buried deep, all over the moor. Was this an ancient ritual site, or the remnants of an even older battlefield? If this was a sentinel, was it still signalling to anyone? And who were they?
Was it still talking to its masters? And if it were alive, then… was it alone?