Tessa paced the tiny lobby, sneakers squeaking on disinfected tile. From behind the swinging doors came low voices, the hiss of oxygen, and once—a thin electronic wail abruptly silenced. She intercepted a vet tech in blue scrubs. “Is it… breathing?”
The young man shook his head. “It’s fighting, but the lungs are full of crude. Dr. Hallett’s suctioning again. Don’t pin your hopes too high.” His sympathy hurt more than bluntness. He vanished before she could reply.