The dog’s paws tore at the earth with a rhythm that never faltered. Its body trembled from exhaustion, ribs showing through its dirt-matted coat, yet it refused to stop. Hour after hour, day after day, the animal returned to the same spot, driven by something stronger than hunger or rest.
Passersby shook their heads, whispering about the stray that seemed bent on digging its own grave. The ground was hard, packed with stones and roots, but still the dog clawed deeper, ignoring the pain etched into its cracked pads. Each scrape of nail against soil seemed to echo with purpose, though no one dared guess what that purpose was.
What could keep a creature so malnourished, so weary, bound to the same patch of earth with unyielding obsession? Some wondered if it hunted, others feared it might uncover something better left buried. Whatever lay beneath, the dog would not stop until it was unearthed.