Arlo Beau woulda heard it a mile away.
He brought a shaky hand to his fluffy forehead, blocking the sun from his aching eyes as he gripped an old rusted garden hoe in the other. The sun beat down on his companions, some wet with sweaty fur, others a little more fortunate not to have a built-in blanket 24/7. He glanced downwards at their little land, wet soil drinki...
