Sapiens Progenitous

Describe the fossils of an ancient species, do they still exist

The skeleton is held gently, but securely, by clamps, wires, and thin metal bars. It resembles the peoples of the Garden- disturbingly all of them, and yet none. The man had no muzzle, but a flattened face, with eyes facing forward. He had individual teeth suited to an omnivorous diet. The bones themselves, especially around the neck, look concernedly fragile, yet you know from the old notes in front of you that they are not hollow. The feet are fairly short and lay flat against the ground. There is no evidence he had claws at the end of any digit, or a tail.
There's something... wrong... about it. There is every time you observe it. With a shiver, you return your gaze to the notes left open in front of the fossil.
The first page is simply a catalogue of corporeal national markers that the skeleton seems to be missing.
Hollow Bones - Avian Unified Beak Teeth - Avian Wing Stumps - Avian Muzzle - Wolf, Cat, Masks, Unguls, Bears Fangs - Wolf, Cat, Masks (partial), Deepwater Fangs - Serpentine High Heels - Wolf, Cat, Masks, Unguls Tail - Wolf, Cat Tail - Deepwater, Serpentine Claws - Wolf, Masks, Deepwater, Bears Claws - Cat Exoskeleton - Hivers Vestigial Wings - Hivers Reinforced Bones - Bears
The next few pages are odd, sporadic notes. Sometimes in bullet form, sometimes the odd sentence. A few adjectives are scrawled in the margins apparently at random. Finally everything seems to coalesce into a sort of diary entry on the 3rd page
...I believe now that this poor soul lived during the Cold Winter. This would explain his odd features- if he was of humanity before the evolutionary split between Nations, he would have none of the identifying features of those Nations. This may be what all our ancestors looked like, what we all are descended from!
If this is true, it would also explain how Man, from the old stories, became so reliant on his technologies and became steeped in the fire of Destruction. He has no defenses- no claws or fangs- and it appears nonathletic compared to what would have been predators in his time. I estimate his top speed at perhaps 13 CPH; for reference, the average top speed of [Masked] Citizens to be nearly 27 CPH. Can you imagine living like that? Every day would be an exercise in fear, fear of everything! Having massively destructive weapons, knowing you can fight anything back at an extreme degree, would suddenly seem reasonable, desirable, even necessary!
There are also markers on the skeleton that this man may have died either of starvation or from freezing to death. Either would be consistent with a worldwide, years-long winter.
My more idiotic colleagues have suggested that this skeleton isn't old at all, and belongs instead to some Chymeara that managed not to inherit the traits of any Nation. This assertion would suppose that the man would be a Chymeara several generations deep, and with his ancestry including almost all Nations (those lacking legs and Hivers excluded; the legs are too developed to have tail genetics mixed in, and this is an endoskeleton, not an exoskeleton). The odds of this are excessively low- not only are Chymeara offspring unlikely to survive to adulthood, but even the ones that do are largely infertile. Finally, Chymeara have only begun to congregate in large numbers in recent history. Even as recently as one generation past they were outcasts, eking out life on the fringes of society. With all these factors in mind, such a miracle child can be considered mathmatically impossible.
Others (more sensibly) have pointed out that cartilaginous appendages would not have survived permineralization. Perhaps this man did have claws or a tail or an elongated snout, but they were constructed of cartilage instead of bone and thus we will never know for sure. I consider this unlikely, but plausible enough not to dismiss outright.
Even more plausible is the idea that this is not a good example of a human species at all, but some kind of mutant. Masks born with weak or missing claws or blunted teeth are not unheard of; however, I can find no literature to suggest that one has ever been born with a flattened face. Certainly not one that survived adulthood. Perhaps this man is simply from too far back in time for such a record to have been made. If these colleagues are correct, he would have had a horribly difficult life- rejected by society due to his deformation, condemned to starve and freeze by hateful people. I would almost prefer to have lived and died in the Cold Winter; then at least my demise would have been due to mankind's folly and not its abject cruelty.
---
Your feet carry you to the graveyard, but your mind is elsewhere. Before you know it you've reached the monument. Sitting beside the stone, you place his favorite green teacup on the offering plate, filling it with coffee from your flask.
"You were right, Professor," you take a draw from the flask yourself, the heat from the liquid sinking into your cold bones. "And if can you believe it, they're still out there, a whole Nation of Progenitous. I wish you could be here so I could introduce you to my proof, but..."
You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. When did your vision get so bad, anyway? Swiping at your eyes, you continue. "I'm sorry I fought with you about it, but I think you were right about that other thing too. It would have been better to die from folly than hatred. I'm not proud... I've felt the seed of that within me, now..."
You try to take another swig, but choke. When you get your coughs to stop, you rest your forehead head against the gravestone. "I miss you, sir. I wish you were here to teach me again. I realize now that I have much- too much- still to learn." You can almost feel the old fox's hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. You know what he would say, and that doesn't make it any easier. Tears drip down your nose and into the Professor's coffee.