For a few tense moments, all he could see were her boots. Then her voice came back to him, filled with a mix of relief and urgency.
“Five puppies!” Lynda said loudly. “All alive but cold and hungry. They look about three weeks old. Matt, I’ll need the carrying case and some of those warming packs.”
Matt quickly unpacked the supplies she needed, passing them through the opening. Working together, they managed to get all five squirming puppies safely into the insulated carrier.
“They’re dehydrated but otherwise seem healthy,” Lynda reported as she emerged from the den, mud-streaked but triumphant. “No obvious injuries.”
A crack of lightning split the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening thunderclap. The storm was directly overhead now.
“We need to move!” Ben shouted over the wind. “That slope above us is showing signs of giving way!”
Matt secured the carrier with the puppies while Lynda quickly examined the mother one last time, her face solemn.
“We’ll have to leave her,” she said regretfully. “We can come back after the storm passes.”
Matt nodded and helped Lynda to her feet. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, it was always hard when an animal died. “Let’s get out of here.”
The journey back down the trail was even more treacherous than the climb up. The path had transformed into a muddy stream, with water rushing down the hillside. Matt carried the precious cargo of puppies, while Lynda stayed close beside him, helping to navigate the safest route.
At one point, Matt’s foot slipped on a submerged rock, and he started to lose his balance. Instantly, Lynda’s hand was there, gripping his elbow with surprising strength, steadying him.
“I’ve got you,” she said, their eyes meeting briefly in the glow of their headlamps.
“Thanks,” he replied, the word encompassing far more than just gratitude for preventing a fall.
They continued downward, watching out for each other. When they finally reached the truck, all four of them were soaked to the skin, covered in mud, and breathing hard from exertion.
Matt placed the puppies between Lynda and himself in the back seat. Ben took the wheel again, with Daphne radioing updates to their office.
“There’s a landslide blocking the main road,” Daphne told them. “We’ll have to take the long way around through the logging roads.”
Ben nodded, putting the truck in gear. “As long as they’re passable, we’ll make it.”
For the next hour, they navigated a maze of increasingly flooded logging roads, the truck struggling through sections where water reached halfway up the wheels. Ben drove with intense concentration, his hands steady on the wheel despite the treacherous conditions.
From the back seat, Lynda kept a careful eye on the puppies. “They’re responding well to the warming packs. I’ve given them each a little glucose solution, which has perked them up. They’re going to need formula as soon as we get back to town.”
“We’ve got supplies at the clinic,” Matt told her. “We can set up the incubator for them there.”
After another thirty minutes of nerve-wracking driving, they finally stopped outside Matt’s clinic. Even though the storm was still raging, the tension in his shoulders began to ease.
“You both did amazing work up there,” Ben said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Most people wouldn’t have gone out in this weather, let alone saved those little ones.”
“The puppies wouldn’t have survived without us,” Matt told him. “Thanks for the ride. My truck would have struggled on the roads.”
Daphne turned and smiled. “That’s what we’re here for. Let us know how the puppies are in a few days’ time.”
“And don’t worry about the pups’ mother,” Ben added. “We’ll go back and bury her once the storm passes.”
Lynda undid her seatbelt. “Thank you. I hope you don’t have any more callouts.”
When they’d said goodbye to Ben and Daphne, Matt picked up their supplies while Lynda carried the puppies toward the clinic.
As quickly as possible, they warmed the incubator to the perfect temperature, prepared some formula, and one by one, fed the tiny puppies.
“They’re fighters,” Lynda said softly as the smallest of the litter eagerly sucked on the bottle she was giving her.
Matt glanced up from the puppy he was feeding. Lynda’s braid had come partially undone, her silver hair forming a soft frame around her face. There was still mud on her cheek and her clothes were damp and rumpled. Yet to Matt, she looked absolutely perfect.
