They sliced away the tarp, cut the net, and started rinsing black sludge with warm saline. The pup lay still, sides barely lifting. A monitor beeped irregularly. “Pulse forty‑two and falling,” one tech muttered. The vet fitted a tiny mask over the muzzle.
Noemi hovered near the sink, feeling useless, coated in oil, shivering hard. She opened her mouth twice, no words came. The vet spared her a glance. “Name’s Dr. Alvarez,” he said, voice calm but tight. “You did right bringing him. Now sit before you fall.”