The little creature stirred—barely—and pressed into the warmth of the pig’s flank. Raymond knelt there for a long moment, snow dripping from his coat, breath coming in clouds. They had made it this far. Now it was up to him to make sure they made it the rest of the way.
The storm was relentless now, swirling like a living thing, clawing at Raymond’s coat as he stumbled back toward the shed. Inside, the pig lay still, its massive body curled around the tiny, trembling creature.
The blanket beneath them was damp, but it offered some insulation from the frozen floor. Raymond dropped to his knees beside them, catching his breath. The frail little creature nestled into the crook of the pig’s belly, its tiny limbs twitching, breath shaky but real.
Its fur was thin, too thin for this kind of weather, and its bones felt like twigs under Raymond’s fingers. This wasn’t something he could handle alone. Not out here. Not tonight. He pulled his phone from his coat and dialed. The line rang once.