The mud sucked at his boots as he moved closer. The dog tried to lift its head but collapsed again, letting out a weak whimper drowned by the rain.
Thomas knelt beside it, water splashing against his legs. “Easy, easy…” he murmured, brushing away thick layers of mud. The dog’s eyes flickered open, full of exhaustion—but something else too. Fear.
He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around the trembling body. “You’re okay now,” he whispered, though his voice shook from the cold.
Then he noticed it—the dog wasn’t lying flat. Its body was curved awkwardly, shielding something underneath.
