Manny followed the dog into the dark woods, branches cracking beneath his boots as winter air burned in his lungs. His breath rose in pale clouds, vanishing into the night. The dog moved quickly but purposefully, nose low, tail stiff. It was a creature on a mission, chasing a trail Manny desperately hoped still existed.
They stopped when the dog barked sharply. A torn jacket hung snagged on a protruding root, fabric stiff with frost. Manny lifted it carefully. It was small, too small for an adult. His stomach tightened. This wasn’t discarded clothing. It was a breadcrumb left unintentionally by a child trying to survive.