Tired. She was so tired.

Bone-deep exhaustion weighed down the thick, winter-ready coat, each heavy step leaving a deep impression in the sands. Eira's paw prints, once distinct, had begun to merge into a single, dragging trail as her energy waned.

The cenote loomed ahead, a distant promise drawing nearer with every faltering step. She clung to the hope it represented, whispering silently to herself, We'll find him soon, baby.

A call rang through the air, I am here! Please come and meet me.