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... 8 - Anne’s Diary (4)
“...”
I looked down at the fox nestled in my arms.
She was crying, her face buried in my chest, her red hair a mess.
I gently patted her trembling back with a steady hand.
Though she looked exhausted, there were no signs of injuries or evidence that she had been experimented on.
It seemed I had made it just in time to save her.
I quietly held her cold body in my arms.
Even with the little warmth I could ...
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