Ford watched as Mia approached the white curve at the edge of the new landscape.
"You think it's dangerous?" Grandpa asked.
"Unusual, at the very least," Mia replied. "Look, there. Puddles of water in it. It's warm enough to melt, but shouldn't it seep through the snow and into the ground?"
"Solid ice is water-tight," Daniel put in.
"Then stand back a bit, will you?" The old man shook his head and raised one hand. A small swarm of flies moved out of the woods and across the plain towards them, zooming past and onto the short section of white that rose into the mighty cliffs.
Some of the insects landed on the surface, while some went to taste the water in the puddles. Others soared higher, as if to see if some airborne predator might be attracted to their presence in the sky alongside the cliffs.
Ford patiently watched the insects. Nothing seemed to happen. No catastrophic event, no collapse or instant death met the innocent flies.