The last squeal of its brakes echoed long after silence had returned. It stopped barely a hundred meters short of the puppy. For a moment, no one moved. Even the wind seemed to hesitate. Then, a wave of noise erupted; shouts from the platform, the hiss of the engine, the metallic ticking of cooling brakes.
Ethan exhaled shakily, realizing his hands were trembling. The station master lowered his radio, relief etched deep into his lined face. “A hundred meters,” he muttered, half to himself. “That’s all it would’ve taken.”