No guidance. No reason. He acted.

He gripped the corner of the box gently with his teeth and began dragging it. Inch by inch, he pulled it out of the bushes, scraping it across wet earth, slipping in the mud. The rain stung his eyes.

But he didn’t stop. He tugged it all the way to the edge of the road, where headlights sometimes appeared in the distance before vanishing again into the storm. Then he stood guard.

He barked. At every car that passed, he barked with every ounce of strength left in his battered body. Loud.