‘About live collection,’ said Hector. ‘Gathering creatures to be prodded and poked and studied. Dangerous work. But I guess we should try.’ Tad shook his head, but Hector just smiled. ‘May not succeed,’ he went on. ‘We may not be able to catch it. But let’s see.’ He stood to his full height before fitting his shoulder against an angle of the deformed feral carcass, then pushed. The mass moved; the creature trapped beneath it yelped.
‘Get me out.’
Both Hector and Tad froze. Their eyes met. Neither commented on what they had heard.
‘Wait,’ said Tad, moving close to the wreck. ‘I think—wait a moment.’ He bent over the injured animal, fussing around its trapped hind leg.
The canine let out another cry of desperation. ‘Get me out.’
Tad persisted in whatever he was about. When he stood up a
