She slipped a hand under the woman’s shoulder and helped her up with effort. “Thank you,” she rasped, shivering. “I—I slipped. I think I’ve hurt my hand. I can’t find my cane.” Maya looked around the area and saw it: a white cane half-buried in the grass, and a pair of glasses nearby.
She retrieved both quickly and placed them in her hands. The dog came bounding over and pressed its face to the woman’s, licking her eagerly. A weak smile tugged at her lips as she reached for the dog’s wet fur. “You found someone,” she whispered. “Good boy, Juno. You did it.”
The rain had intensified into a cold, needling downpour. The storm wailed through the trees with a sound like splitting wood. Maya wrapped one arm around the woman’s shoulders and began guiding her back across the street, with Juno trotting close behind, soaked and silent but alert.
By the time they reached the house, all three of them were drenched. Water pooled at their feet as they stepped inside. Maya shut the door quickly behind them, locking out the wind. The quiet thrum of the storm outside seemed louder now that they were safe.