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Tucked under the mossy stone of the bridge, a fragile baby girl lies in a weathered wicker basket, partially covered by a damp blanket. Her skin is pale, her lips trembling in the cool air. Beside her, the pug sniffs gently, then curls around the basket protectively. Light filters softly through the arch, casting a warm glow over their small shelter as the rain continues to fall beyond. The moment is quiet, aching, and full of innocent trust.