The eyes flicked toward him once, glazed, weary, then back down. He crouched nearby, careful not to spook it. Up close, he could see how matted its fur was, caked with dirt, leaves, even a few shards of bark. Its breathing was shallow, strained. He reached a hand out slowly.
“Easy now…” The dog let out a low, guttural sound not aggressive, just a warning. Its whole body shuddered once, then went still again. “Alright,” Owen whispered, keeping his voice low. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”