The engineer slammed the emergency brake. Screeching filled the air as metal fought against speed. Gravel flew. The massive train shuddered to a crawl before stopping just meters away.
Silence fell. Then, a voice: “It’s alive!” Workers sprinted toward the tracks. The puppy’s fur was caked with grease and dust, its paws trembling against the cold steel.
“Easy, boy,” a man said, kneeling. But as he reached out, the dog bared its teeth—not from anger, but fear.
That’s when they saw it—something tiny and pale tucked beneath its belly, barely visible in the dirt.
