“Poor thing,” the station master murmured, crouching low. “What on earth are you doing here?” The smell of hot metal and brake dust hung thick in the air as the train groaned to a stop. Ethan and the station master made their way down the embankment, gravel crunching underfoot.
The puppy was still lying there, a pale shape between the rails, chest rising and falling shallowly. “Careful,” the station master murmured. “We don’t want to scare it into bolting.” They moved slowly, step by cautious step, speaking in low voices.