Noemi followed more slowly. Her boots stuck in oily sand. She stumbled over a half-buried crate, caught herself with a grunt. The wolf stopped, waited, then moved again.
It led her to a tangle of green fishing net. Something small writhed beneath it, smothered in black sludge leaking from a cracked drum.
The whimper came again—thin, shivering.
Her stomach dropped. She moved closer. The creature was bigger than a rabbit, smaller than a full-grown dog. Its fur clumped in greasy mats, tar-black. A flash of teeth showed as it gnawed at the net, then vanished in a pitiful yelp.
Anger surged through her—at the filth, at whoever dumped it, at herself for doubting the wolf. She scanned for something sharp.
A broken bottle jutted from the sand. She wrapped her sleeve around the jagged neck and tested the edge. It would work.
“Easy,” she whispered to the trapped animal, though it trembled too hard to hear her.
The wolf stood a yard away, tail rigid, eyes flicking between the glass in her hand and the net. When she knelt, it gave a soft chuff—permission.
She dropped to her knees, ignoring the oil seeping into her jeans. She sawed through the netting—one, two, three strands. Shift. Four, five, six.
Every time the creature thrashed, sludge splattered her sleeves. Still, she cut. The wolf paced in a tense semicircle, ears flicking with each scrape of glass.
Finally, the last loop snapped.
The creature pushed up, staggered one step, then collapsed with a ragged squeal. Its back legs trembled, unable to hold.
Pale-gray eyes locked onto Noemi’s. Wide. Afraid. Then the lids fluttered shut, its body sagging as though drained of all strength.
Panic jolted her. It needed warmth. Pressure. Anything to keep the heart from fading.
She spotted a torn canvas tarp, ripped a clean strip, and wrapped the pup snug against her chest. Oil smeared her clothes, but she didn’t care.
She pressed her palm to its side.
A heartbeat—weak, fluttering, but alive.
The wolf gave a low, mournful whine behind her. Noemi lifted her head. Far in the distance, faint cottage lights shimmered through the mist.
“I’ll take care of him,” she whispered, her voice raw with exhaustion and resolve.