The rain came down in sheets, driven sideways by howling wind that screamed through the bare trees lining the deserted highway. It was near midnight on the outskirts of a quiet Midwestern town, and the storm showed no signs of relenting. The world was soaked, cold, and unforgiving.
A German shepherd limped through the shadows of a narrow alley near the woods, ribs visible beneath his soaked, matted fur. His movements were slow, weary. Each step the product of days without food, weeks without shelter.
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