Piece after piece disappeared until the packet was gone. For a brief moment, Ethan felt satisfied, even proud. “That’s it,” he said softly. “You’re just hungry. Nothing more.” The dog licked its muzzle, sat back on its haunches, and looked up at him. Its eyes, though dulled by exhaustion, glimmered strangely.
Then, without warning, it turned and resumed digging. As if the food had been nothing but a brief interruption, a pause to fuel its real mission. Soil flew in short, desperate bursts, claws scraping against stone, every movement filled with urgency. Ethan’s relief drained away, replaced by a creeping chill.