Now, in the barn, the auctioneer’s gavel cracked sharply. “Next up: K-9 Shadow, formerly of District 9. Starting bid: one hundred dollars.”
A heavy silence followed. No hands rose. No one dared meet the “broken” dog’s gaze. The auctioneer sighed, prepared to move on and declare the animal unsellable—usually a sentence to a grim fate.
“I’ll take him!”
Emma’s small voice rang out, piercing the quiet. The barn froze. Laughter rippled behind her as adults looked around for her parents, assuming it was a child’s joke. But Emma did not flinch. She stepped forward, chin raised.
“I want him. Shadow belongs with me.”
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