It was the sound that caught her attention first—soft paws on gravel, the hesitant shuffle of something moving cautiously at the very edge of the vineyard where the cultivated rows gave way to wild grass and scattered stones. Lila had been kneeling in the vegetable garden they had planted behind the house, her hands buried deep in the rich, dark soil as she coaxed late summer tomatoes from their vines, when she looked up to see a patchy-coated dog standing a few feet away.
The animal was clearly a stray, its coat a motley collection of browns and grays that might once have been handsome but now spoke of months spent sleeping rough. Its ribs were sharp beneath the dull fur, each bone clearly visible as it breathed in quick, shallow pants. But it was the eyes that made her chest tighten—war
