Owen leaned closer, watching the small chest rise and fall in uneven rhythm. “Will it make it?” he asked. Mallory didn’t answer right away. She pressed two fingers gently to its side, then glanced up. “It’s stronger than it looks, but it was close. Hypothermia, oxygen deprivation. Another half hour and…” She shook her head. “But it’s holding on.”
Clara let out a long, shaky breath. “That dog must’ve saved it.” Mallory nodded. “From what you described, I’d say so. The body heat, the way it covered the box, it probably kept the air pocket from collapsing. Instinct’s a powerful thing.” For a long moment, no one spoke. The sound of the badger’s faint, wheezy breaths filled the silence, a rhythm both fragile and defiant.