“They don’t bond like this without a reason.” Raymond looked between them—the huge, battered pig lying quietly on a heated pad, and the half-frozen creature pressed tight against her flank. And he knew what he had to do.
Raymond sat in the corner of the exam room, jacket off, spine stiff, watching the vet work. His breath had finally evened out, but the adrenaline hadn’t fully left him. It buzzed in his chest, behind his ribs, refusing to settle.
The pig—now cleaned and warmed—lay on a heated mat, eyes half-closed but still alert. She didn’t take her gaze off the smaller creature tucked into her side. Not even for a moment. The little hybrid had stopped shivering.
Her tiny chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, eyes closed, one paw twitching in sleep. “She’s going to make it,” Dr. Morris said. “So will the pig. She just needs rest. Hydration. Food. But that’s a bond you don’t break.” Raymond nodded slowly.