It was still snowing the next morning when Raymond pulled into his driveway, the early sun glowing faintly through heavy clouds. The road had been cleared just enough to get home. In the backseat, the little creature stirred, blinking up at him with eyes that were no longer cloudy, but bright and wary.
Beside her, nestled into blankets, the pig dozed quietly, her breathing deep and slow. Raymond climbed out and opened the door. “Come on, you two,” he said softly. “Welcome home.” He carried them in one at a time, settling them near the fireplace—the pig on a thick old rug, the hybrid curled beside her.