Raymond hovered beside him, every muscle in his body wound tight. Morris finally looked up. “The little one’s a fighter,” he said. “Cold, malnourished, dehydrated—but it’s hanging on.” Raymond let out a shaky breath. “And the pig?”
“Shock and exposure. But she’s stable. Did you find them together?” Raymond nodded. “She kept the little one warm. Guarded it.” Morris blinked slowly, studying the creature again. Then he gently parted the fur around its muzzle. “So, what is it, a stray dog?”