Dana didn’t move at first.
She counted heartbeats.
Fear battled curiosity.
What could be so terrible that someone would throw it away in the middle of the night?
Money?
Something stolen?
If it was valuable… it could mean food. Warmth. Maybe even a chance.
Need won.
Dana ran to the pile, tore away bags, lifted the box.
Underneath was a soft wool blanket—fine, expensive, even soaked.
She touched the bundle.
It was warm.
It moved.
Her hands shook as she pulled back the blanket—
And a sharp, desperate cry pierced the night.
Dana collapsed into the mud.
A baby.
Someone had thrown away a baby like garbage.
Shock lasted one second.
Then instinct took over.
Dana knelt, staring at a tiny red face, a small body trembling under dirty rain.
“No… no… who did this to you?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
She didn’t think about filth or cold.
She shrugged off her jacket and pressed the baby against her small chest, giving him the last warmth she had.
“I’ve got you… I’ve got you,” she murmured.
The baby’s cries softened, as if he believed her.
As she adjusted the blanket, her fingers brushed something cold.
A thick silver chain, with a rectangular tag.
Lightning flashed.
The name engraved on it was clear.
HARRISON.