He cried out, but the wind snatched the sound from his throat. “Help!” he screamed again, hoarse, frantic—but it was like yelling into a void. Snow swirled violently around him. His phone—the only lifeline—sat locked inside the car, glowing faintly on the dashboard. Just meters away. Yet unreachable.
Tears pricked his eyes—not from the pain, but from the raw, suffocating helplessness. If he didn’t move, the cat would die. So would he. He forced his elbows under him, gasping. Each breath stabbed. Every nerve rebelled. But he dragged himself forward—one agonizing inch at a time—because he had to.