Raymond glanced back toward the house. The wind had picked up even more, sending circles of snow swirling around his boots. This animal wouldn’t last much longer—not like this. Still, something about the way it stayed put, even now, unsettled him.
Like it was waiting. Or guarding something. He shook the thought away. No—just a pig, probably escaped from somewhere. Cold, weak, too tired to run. That was all. But the doubt lingered. Raymond took a final step, close enough now to hear the pig’s shallow breathing.