Someone must have abandoned it, I thought. It was the most logical explanation. People did things like that. Cruel things disguised as inconvenience.
I approached slowly, speaking softly without realizing I was doing it.
The little creature lifted its head.
And that’s when something felt… off.
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Its eyes were open wide—far wider than any puppy’s eyes should be. They were glossy and dark, reflecting the morning light in a way that seemed almost too alert, too knowing.
Still, I crouched down.
“It’s okay,” I said again, reaching out a hand.
The “puppy” didn’t growl or retreat. Instead, it tilted its head—not in the clumsy, curious way dogs do, but in a sharp, deliberate motion, as if analyzing me.
That should have been my first real clue.
The snout was wrong. Too narrow. The nose wasn’t shaped like a dog’s at all. The ears—folded back at first—slowly shifted upright, revealing a structure that didn’t belong to any puppy I had ever seen.
I froze.
The creature didn’t move away. It didn’t panic.
It watched me.
Carefully.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The world seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if deciding something internally, it stood.
That’s when the illusion completely shattered.
Not even close.
The legs were too long in proportion to the body. The posture was different—lighter, more agile. And when it took a tentative step forward, its movement was fluid in a way dogs simply aren’t.
My mind raced through possibilities.
A fox?
No. Too small. Too young.
A wolf pup?
Impossible. Completely impossible.
But there it was.
A wild animal.
A baby fox.
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