The pig lay bundled in the truck bed, unmoving but breathing. The tiny creature was curled beside him in the passenger seat, wrapped in Raymond’s old wool coat, its breath fogging faintly against the window.
“Just hang in there,” Raymond murmured. “We’re close.” He took the long curve on Hollow Creek Road too fast—he knew it the moment the tires lost traction. The truck shuddered. The rear end began to slide. Trees blurred past his window.