Whatever it was, it wasn’t just dirt. Something beneath that body didn’t belong there, something holding the animal in place. He sat back again, wiping his hand against his thigh, heart still thudding. The dog’s eyes never left him. Behind them was fear, but not of him. Of what might happen if he pulled too hard.
He scanned the ground for something to help; anything he could use to shift the mud without getting too close. A thick stick lay a few feet away, half-buried near the base of a tree. He pulled it free and tested its weight. It wasn’t much, but it was better than his hands. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s try this a different way.”