His whole body ached from the cold, and every muscle felt wrung out. Even under the heavy blanket, his hands still trembled.
But through all that pain one clear thought came through: he was alive.
Beside the bed, with his head resting on his front paws, lay Fog. The dog was soaked from melted snow and worn out from the effort, but he hadn’t left Frank’s side.
He watched Frank’s face closely and answered every small movement with a worried little whine.
When he saw Frank open his eyes, Fog thumped his tail and edged closer to the bed. Frank slowly worked one hand out from under the blanket.
With a tenderness he didn’t need words for, he rested it on the dog’s damp head. Fog let out a long, quiet breath, closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch.
In that moment, the old mason understood just how much they had come to mean to each other. For the first time in a long while, the house felt truly warm again.
