Tom knelt a few steps back, hands on his knees. “Looks like it’s half-buried. Could be stuck on something underneath,” he said. “That’s what I thought,” Owen replied, nodding toward the slope. “Tried digging, but the mud keeps caving in. It’s like trying to scoop soup.”
Clara frowned, scanning the dog’s shape. “If it’s caught on wire or wood from the slide, forcing it might tear something.” Tom looked at Owen. “You got anything in the van? Rope? A board? We could wedge it out, maybe.” Owen wiped the rain from his face with a muddy sleeve. “I’ve got a small shovel in the back. Not much else.”