Where am I?

I tried to sit up, and my forehead struck something hard and unyielding a few inches above my face.

I threw my hands out to either side and hit smooth wood, left and right, close.

A tight, sealed space.

And then my hand brushed against something small, and icy, and still.

A little hand.

“Mason?” The word came out muffled, swallowed by the tiny space.

I reached the other way and found a small arm.