Thomas frowned. He reached for a nearby branch and gently brushed away the mud near the dog’s paws. The animal growled weakly but didn’t move away.
“It’s alright,” he said softly, trying to calm it. “I’m just trying to help.” His fingers brushed something soft—fur, but smaller, lighter.
He blinked through the rain. There was another shape beneath the dog’s belly—motionless, covered in mud, yet unmistakable.
It wasn’t alone. There was a puppy underneath her, pressed tight against her stomach, hidden from the storm.
