Inside the coffin, where they expected to see the lifeless form of Officer Danil, there was movement. A hand—the very hand everyone believed to be cold and still in the grip of death—was tapping weakly against the wooden lid. Gasps erupted from the mourners, filling the air with disbelief and a mix of horror and relief.
Rex had been right all along. The officer they had gathered to mourn was not dead. He was alive, albeit barely. His face was pale, lips cracked, and eyes fluttering open with confusion and desperation, struggling to focus on the faces hovering above him. The collective gasp turned into a flurry of activity as medical personnel rushed forward, pulling Danil from the coffin with utmost care.
The officer’s partner, Rex, leaped beside him, licking Danil’s face with fervent relief. It was as if the loyal canine’s instincts had pierced through the edge of the void, pulling Danil back from the brink of death. Rex’s incessant barking had been more than grief—it was a cry for help, a plea for the living to save his beloved partner.
