Caleb waited until the men drifted deeper into the camp, distracted by their fire and whatever deal they were discussing. He kept low and moved along the back edge of a snowbank, circling wide to avoid the direct line of sight from the tents.
The cage was about fifteen meters away. He paused behind a stack of wooden crates, his breath shallow. The calf inside was lying still, shivering. Caleb scanned for a lock and spotted a padlock near the base. It looked old—maybe easy to break.
One of the men turned suddenly, and Caleb ducked. After a few seconds of silence, he dared to peek again. Clear. He crept forward, one careful step at a time, boots silent on the hard snow. When he finally reached the cage, the calf lifted its head weakly and let out a soft squeak.
“Shh,” Caleb whispered, kneeling beside it. He reached for the lock and tugged. Frozen. He pulled out the multitool from his coat and tried to pry at it, fingers numb from the cold. The lock gave a faint click. Then, the calf moved.