He prodded again, slightly firmer this time, but still, nothing happened. His fingers tightened around the hammer as he took a careful step forward. Swallowing hard, he reached out and brushed away the excess snow, revealing matted fur—brown and gray, clumped together in tiny frozen tufts.
A rabbit. The sight of it knocked the wind from his chest in a different way this time. It was so still he almost thought it was already gone, but then—just barely—he saw it, the faintest rise and fall of its tiny body. It was breathing. But barely.