The dog barked once, sharp and feral, before collapsing back into a trembling whine. His tail curled tight, body a shield, eyes wet with the impossible conflict of protecting and pleading. The rescuers exchanged glances, tension stretched taut as a wire.
“Easy now,” the animal control worker murmured, lowering the pole slightly. He gestured for the others to wait, then inched closer, glove-clad hand hovering near the fabric. Tina held her breath, nails digging crescents into her palms, every second endless.