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The Poor Little Thing
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It was then that he spotted it. Nestled in a small bed of moss lay a tiny black puppy, so young its eyes were still shut tight. Jonathan leaned in to inspect the poor creature, scanning the area for signs of more puppies. After all, they often came in litters. But there were none. The forest, usually a place of tranquility, now held a mystery that would soon unfold into something far more complex than a simple rescue mission.
