It sat in the snow, catching the flakes between webbed fingers, because they melted more slowly there. It examined the points on every tiny crystal, clearly visible in its multifaceted eyes. It had never seen snow, never felt cold. It came from a land of warmth, of sun, its skin was designed to keep it cool.

Here though, where it crash-landed, its skin was no help. The ship had done what it could, ejected its pilot clear of the burning ship. The ship could not save it though; its blood slowly crystallized as it gazed at the flakes in wonder.