The women, at first not believing their eyes, looked at each other and then leaned closer. Indeed, on the dog’s paws and side there were fresh blood stains.

— My God… is it hurt? — asked one of the friends, frightened.

But the dog didn’t seem hurt — it didn’t limp, didn’t whimper, didn’t complain. Instead, it suddenly jumped up and ran toward a rocky cape.

The friends looked at each other in confusion — and decided to follow. They quickly got up from their blankets and tried to keep up with the dog’s quick leaps across the hot sand.

As they came closer, their hearts tightened. On a wet sandbank, right by the shore, lay an unconscious man. Under his head was a dark stain of blood, and next to him a wet stone glistened — he had probably slipped and hit his head.

The dog ran to him, sniffed, and started barking again, as if asking for help. The women looked at each other anxiously, then one of them took out her phone and, with trembling fingers, explained the situation to emergency services.

— Is he breathing? — asked one of the friends as she knelt down.

— Barely… — answered another softly, placing her hand on the man’s chest.

The women tried to keep him conscious, calmed the dog, and waited for the ambulance.

The same thought circled in each of their minds: if it hadn’t been for this loyal dog, they would never have known that a tragedy was unfolding just a few steps away from their happy outing.

A few minutes later, the ambulance siren pierced the summer air. The man was carefully lifted onto a stretcher. The women breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the doctors bandaging him.

And the dog finally allowed itself to relax a little — it came up to one of the women and let itself be petted, as if to say thank you for the help.