Clara’s smile vanished first. She peered over Tom’s shoulder, brow furrowing. “Oh, poor thing,” she said. “How long’s it been like that?” “Couple hours, maybe,” Owen said. “Saw it digging earlier, before the slide got worse. Came back and found it like this.”
Tom squinted at the animal, shaking his head. “Looks bad. You try pulling it out?” he asked, looking at the situation in front of him. “Yeah,” Owen said quietly. “Tried digging too. The mud keeps closing in. It’s like quicksand.”