His breath caught in his throat.
There she was.
Her jacket was too thin, with the sleeves falling past her hands. Worn-out sneakers. A pink backpack that looked like it could swallow her whole. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her lower lip trembled as she clutched the bag tight.
Daniel stepped out instinctively, scanning the street. There was no one. No idling car, no figure ducking into the shadows. Nothing but the wind and the crunch of ice beneath his boots.
She looked up at him, eyes wide and wet.
Her voice was so soft, he barely caught the words.
Daniel crouched down, trying to meet her eyes without scaring her.
“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “where are your parents? Did someone bring you here?”
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