Then she heard it: a faint squeak, fragile and broken. Her blood chilled. It wasn’t loud enough for certainty, but her mind supplied the rest. The soft sound of a newborn’s cry, weakened from cold, muffled under the cloth. She nearly dropped her phone.
Her knees bent instinctively, trying to lower herself, appear less threatening. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered, her voice shaky, throat dry. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” The dog’s eyes glistened, jaw tight. He whined again, torn between trust and suspicion.