He paused, blinking against the snow in his eyes. Raymond’s pulse began to race, a cold line of sweat running down his spine. His first irrational thought was of bears. He lived in bear country, after all. Could a young one have become disoriented and collapsed in his yard?
But no, the shape wasn’t right. The coloring too pale. And besides, what kind of bear would be out in the open like this, in the middle of a storm? Still… the idea of getting closer made his body tense. He stood rooted to the spot, snow piling on his shoulders, staring at the strange form.
Something about it… didn’t feel natural. Raymond inched forward, squinting through the thick curtain of snow. The lump by the fence was still half-buried, motionless but somehow… present. Not just an object, but something with weight, with heat.
The closer he came, the more he could make out: a ridge of bristled fur, patches of pale skin beneath, the barest rise and fall of breath. His boots crunched into a fresh drift, and suddenly, the mound twitched. Raymond stopped dead.