Part 2
Owen had fastened the only exit the injured mother might have been able to reach.
He had done it to keep children and trespassers out of a condemned building. He had seen the tracks beside the wall and chosen not to spend five minutes checking where they led.
Now the red puppy stood over his mother, too weak to carry anything else and still prepared to fight them for her.
“Later,” Nora said without looking at her father. “You can decide what this means later. Right now, hold the light.”
She approached along the edge of the netting, keeping her body low. The puppy bared his teeth when she reached toward the mother.
“I know,” Nora murmured. “You found help. Let us use it.”
The sound in the puppy’s throat was scarcely a growl. He planted his feet anyway.
Nora touched the mother’s hind leg first. Her fingers disappeared beneath the brindled coat as she searched for a pulse.
“Alive, severely hypothermic, very weak. Ben, bring both carriers and the canvas litter. Dad, don’t move that rack.”
The gray puppy lifted its head and let it fall again. The cream puppy remained still until Nora slid one hand beneath it; then a paw flexed against her wrist.
“They’re all about the same age,” she said. “The two under her have had less food.”
Owen looked at the old crusts near the nest. Small teeth had torn away the softened centers, leaving the hard outer edges. The heel brought that morning had been split open beside the puppies.
“He fed them,” Owen said.
“He brought food. She may have divided it.”
The distinction did nothing to lessen what lay before them.
Ben returned with the carriers and bolt cutters. He saw the new hasp, then looked at Owen.
“You lock this Monday?”
“Yes.”
“Was she already inside?”
“I didn’t check.”
Ben set down the tools. No reassurance followed.
He went outside and cut the hasp while Nora examined the puppies. Both were dehydrated and dangerously cold, but their limbs remained flexible. The net house had protected them from direct wind, and snow pushing through the drainage gap had given them moisture to lick.
The mother had provided the rest. Her body formed the only warm space in the building.
Nora wrapped the cream puppy first and placed it beside a covered warming pack in one carrier. The gray puppy managed a weak bite when she lifted him.
“That’s useful,” she said. “Keep being difficult.”
The fallen rack had struck the mother across the shoulder and pinned part of the bedding. She was not trapped tightly, but the rack and loose fishing floats blocked her path to the door. Even before Owen installed the lock, she may have been unable to climb over them.
That possibility did not erase what he had done. It only denied him the simplicity of knowing exactly how much harm belonged to him.
Ben secured the rack to a wall post with a length of webbing. “Roof shifted since Monday. We move her before we clear anything else.”
Nora unfolded the litter beside the dog. “She has to stay level. No pressure on that shoulder.”
The red puppy stepped backward until his hindquarters touched his mother. He still had room to escape through the foundation gap, but he did not use it.
Owen removed his wool scarf and held it out.
“Come on,” he said. “You’ve done your part.”
The puppy snapped at the air.
Owen laid the scarf lightly across his back. The small body shook beneath it, yet the dog kept himself between Owen’s hands and the nest.
“You can keep the bread.”
He gathered the puppy against his chest. The dog twisted once, then sagged inside the scarf with the heel still between his teeth.
Nora and Ben eased the mother onto the canvas. Her eyes opened when the injured shoulder moved. She made no sound. Her muzzle turned toward the two carriers.
“They’re beside you,” Nora said.
Ben lifted the front of the litter while Nora supported the rear. Owen followed with the red puppy beneath his coat. One wet corner of bread protruded below the zipper.
The main door would move only a few inches after Ben cut the hasp. Snow blocked it from outside, and the fallen rack blocked it from within. They carried the dogs through the narrow service entrance one at a time.
Mavis’s voice came over the radio as they emerged.
“North Point team, you missed your check-in by two minutes.”
Ben keyed the microphone. “Four dogs located. All alive. We’re beginning the return.”
Silence held for a moment.
“Repeat the number.”
“Four.”
“I heard you,” Mavis said. “I needed to be sure you did.”
They secured the mother’s litter to the pulk and placed the carriers close enough for her to smell them. Ben covered the load with an insulated wind shell, leaving space for airflow.
The red puppy struggled inside Owen’s coat until his head emerged. As soon as he saw the pulk, he stopped fighting.
Snow erased the clearing behind them. Ben’s reflective markers appeared only when they were nearly on top of them, bright scraps of orange suspended in white.
Owen tried to take the side strap again. Ben moved between him and the pulk.
“I can pull.”
“Not all the way back.”
“She’s here because I—”
“I know,” Ben said. “Give me the strap.”
Owen wanted to argue. Instead, he put both hands around the puppy beneath his coat and followed.
A quarter mile from the net house, Nora raised her hand. Ben stopped while she knelt beside the litter and slipped her fingers beneath the blankets.
“What happened?” Owen asked.
Nora checked the mother’s gums and breathing. “Her shivering stopped.”
“That means the packs are working?”
“No.” Nora added another wrapped pack near the dog’s chest. “It means she may not have enough energy left to shiver.”
The red puppy heard his mother’s blanket move. He pushed against Owen’s coat, but Owen held him close.
“What do we do?”
“We keep the wind off her, and we do not stop again.”
Ben shortened the pulk line. Nora walked beside the litter, one hand beneath the cover. Owen followed with the puppy and the bread pressed against his heart…
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