The handler offered water from a collapsible bowl. Valorian drank briefly, then sat again, eyes on the road that led back to the hospital. “He wants to return,” the detective noted. “He left his precious cargo behind.” The handler smiled faintly. “He won’t forgive us if we don’t take him back.”
By the time they loaded him back into the van, the world smelled of wet leaves and gasoline. The younger detective looked over her shoulder at the dog. “You’re something else, you know that?” she said softly. Valorian closed his eyes, weary but calm, the ghost of rain still in his fur.