As he neared the clearing where he had first found the puppy, he slowed. The underbrush rustled, but it was only the wind. Still, the silence felt unnatural. He took a steadying breath and stepped forward. His gut told him something had changed since he was last here.
His eyes locked onto the spot where the backpack had been. His stomach dropped. It was gone. The leaves were disturbed, the ground slightly scuffed, but the pack itself—along with any proof of what had happened—had vanished. A shiver crawled up his spine. Was it an animal that took the bag pack away?