Ethan frowned. “What is that?” he murmured. The shape twitched once more, then went still. For a moment, he thought it might be over—whatever it was—but then it shifted again, weakly, and something about the motion struck him cold. It wasn’t random. It was struggling.
No one around him seemed to notice. The others were still glued to their phones, earbuds in, faces blank. Ethan leaned forward, squinting into the glare. The wind shifted, brushing heat from the tracks and carrying the faint scent of rust. A glint of brown caught the light. Fur.