She stopped a few feet from the dog. The dog kept on barking, twisting, and groaning in its place. Its fur looked ruffled and dusty, and the vest on its back was clearly marked: SERVICE DOG in bold white letters. Maya looked around for an owner, but the yard and street were completely empty.
When she looked closely, she realised that the dog’s harness was looped around one of the fence posts, and its back leg was caught at an odd angle through the slats. She took a careful step forward, thinking she could maybe unwrap the harness gently. But the dog snapped at the air and barked sharply.
The hostility in the animal’s eyes was unmistakable—a fierce, unyielding gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. Maya’s pulse quickened, a sharp reminder of how vulnerable she was in that moment. She couldn’t take the chance of getting hurt.
Maya took a step back, heart hammering, feeling the sharp bite of fear. She hesitated, the instinct to help clashing with the clear and present danger. She turned and made her way back inside, breath unsteady.