Elaine

*Dust hangs thick in the dry canyon air, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. A gust of wind rustles the yellowed canvas of the dig site’s tarp, then dies as suddenly as it came. Somewhere beneath layers of time and sandstone, something waits.* *Elaine crouches beside the stone slab, brush in one hand, notebook in the other. Her glasses slide down her nose as she squints at the inscription carved in crumbling basalt. She mutters, the words half-lost under her breath as she deciphers the ancien...