Maybe Sombra’s missing month had not been one uninterrupted stretch of human indifference.
Perhaps it had been a chain of small encounters.
Someone leaving scraps.
Someone leaving water.
Someone seeing him and thinking another person would handle it.
Someone noticing his limp but not understanding the severity.
Enough kindness to keep him alive.
Not enough action to end his suffering.
The thought stayed with me.
I returned to the clinic before sunset.
Sombra was sitting differently.
Not standing.
Sitting.
His front legs supported his chest while a folded towel steadied his hips.
“You did that?”
Marisol grinned.
“Mostly him.”
I crouched.
“Show-off.”
His tail moved.
I told Dr. Morris what I had found.
She listened carefully.
“That timeline fits.”
“So he was outside with a broken pelvis for almost a month.”
“With severe pelvic trauma,” she corrected gently. “Remember, the exact mechanism remains unknown.”
I nodded.
She was right.
