Maggie froze when she heard it. Christopher — the man who used to live here.
That night, Maggie couldn’t sleep. She sat by the window, watching Blue curled up outside, guarding the same porch his old master once did. The air felt different — almost sacred, as if the dog was holding onto something time had forgotten.
Days later, something changed.
Blue started pacing near the woods, tail stiff, ears alert. Then he looked back — once, twice — almost like he wanted them to follow.
Maggie hesitated, but Ethan tugged her hand. “Mom, he needs us.”
The woods were quiet that morning, the air sharp with pine. Blue led them through a narrow path until they reached a small clearing. There, tangled beneath fallen branches, was a tiny fox — trembling, trapped, and whimpering in pain.
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