At first, it looked like part of the slide itself; brown, soaked, and half-covered in mud. Then it moved. The dog was pawing at the collapsed soil, digging frantically, whining between breaths. Each pawful of mud just fell back in, but it kept going, relentless, as if something precious was buried underneath.
Owen frowned. He eased his foot off the brake, keeping the van idling in neutral. It wasn’t uncommon to see strays in these parts, but this one seemed desperate. He leaned across the seat and cracked his window. Rain rushed in, cold and sharp.