The first drop hit his window, then another, then dozens more. Within seconds, it was a sheet of rain. The road turned slick, the mud softening under the tires. He switched on the wipers, leaning closer to the glass, squinting at the twisting road ahead.
Half a kilometer further, he spotted movement, the slope on his right seemed wrong, darker somehow. Then he realized the side of the hill had collapsed, spilling mud and roots into the roadside ditch. It wasn’t a full landslide, just a messy spill from the rain loosening the topsoil. He slowed down, scanning the edge for fallen debris. That’s when he saw the dog.