A woolly mammoth wearing a faded blue ice hockey jersey with a white number 13 on the back, its shaggy fur a mix of brown and gray, stands triumphantly on the ice, its massive body towering over the rink, as it holds a hockey stick in its trunk, the stick's wooden surface worn and scratched, the mammoth's tusks gleaming with a warm golden light in the cold Antarctic sun, the ice rink itself a natural formation of frozen sea ice, the surrounding landscape a vast expanse of white snow and ice stretching out to the horizon, where the sky meets the earth in a sharp line, the air crisp and cold, with a few stray snowflakes dancing around the mammoth's head, as it lets out a triumphant trumpet, its breath visible in the chill air, while in the background, other woolly mammoths skate and play, their movements awkward yet endearing, their trunks waving in the air as they chase after a puck, the sound of their trumpeting and the scraping of their skates on the ice filling the air, the scene a joyful and surreal celebration of imagination and playfulness