Margaret began circling again, for what felt like the hundredth time, combing the area with increasingly anxious steps.
She even went so far as to ruin the pile of trash that had been gathered at the edge of the spot, shifting it with trembling hands because she imagined the possibility of the little one hiding among the plastic gaps and cardboard, perhaps scared, perhaps shivering.
The rusted garbage cans that lined the area—for some reason found at this location—she checked them one by one. She opened the lids, holding her breath as a foul odor assaulted her, but still forced herself to inspect the insides.
Every narrow corner, every crack behind the pile of rocks, even places she hadn't thought to check before were not missed by her gaze. She crouched, stood, spun around again, her eyes continuing to sweep the area with diminishing hope.
But still—the little white puppy was gone. It had truly vanished. It left no trace whatsoever, as if its presence minutes ago had been just a thin mist swept away by the wind.
"Is he really okay with the wound on his paw?"
"No… how could he be okay? His leg was clearly injured. How could he possibly walk—let alone run—that fast while I was talking to those two girls?"
"Forcing an injured limb to move... wouldn't that just make the wound worse? Was he so terrified that he ignored the pain and just ran away?"
"Even so... still, the more he pushes himself, the worse his injury will become."
"Oh God... where exactly is that puppy? He's still so small. I'm not even sure he truly left this place. Maybe he's just hiding... but where?"
The questions escaped Margaret's lips just like that, surging out without her being able to hold them back—like murmurs she had to release immediately so her chest would not tighten further. Her voice sounded so anxious, full of a tension she could not even hide.
Her expression clearly showed how frustrated she was at that moment; her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips were tight, and her gaze looked like someone who was losing something far more important than just a puppy that wasn't even hers.
Others might have considered it an overreaction.
But anyone who knew Margaret—who truly knew her—would understand why she could react this extremely. Why the loss of a small creature she had only met minutes ago was able to make her this frantic.
For the umpteenth time, Margaret sharpened her focus again, centering her ears as well.
She hoped, maybe just a little, that a small opening would be caught this time—a vague movement, a whimper, anything—that could lead her to the white puppy's whereabouts.
But the world around her felt simultaneously louder and emptier.
All she could hear were the voices of other students chatting as they passed by—occasionally interspersed with laughter—a stark contrast to the restlessness that gripped her.
Margaret's eyes continued to sweep the area, but again, there was no movement except for dry leaves swaying gently in the wind. There was no small, white furry figure that had recently made her heart pound.
She sighed again.
"Is it… okay if I leave without finding him?"
"What if… he is actually still here? What if he's waiting for help?"
Margaret lifted her hand and scratched the back of her head with a slightly rough motion—a habit that always emerged whenever she was truly confused or frustrated.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself even though her chest was still heavy. The exhale came out like a burden she was forced to let go, even though only a small fraction was successfully shed.
For a few seconds, she remained silent, closing her eyes briefly, allowing her thoughts to settle and reorganize herself.
And finally, after considering every possibility—both logical and illogical—Margaret reached a decision.
"Well… in the end, there's nothing I can do if I can't even find him, right?"
She clenched both hands tightly.
"I truly hope both of them get what they deserve for bullying that starving puppy."
"And I also hope the puppy is okay. If I ever meet him again, I will definitely take him home and care for him properly."
"Even though I don't know how to care for him, I will learn—I will try my best to make him better. I will even make lots of delicious sandwiches for him, so he is no longer labeled a thief who only begs for mercy."
Margaret sighed again, longer than before.
With a body that felt heavier than her footsteps, she finally decided to turn back.
Her movement was slow, almost hesitant, as if a part of her still wanted to keep searching. Yet she forced herself to step away from the spot.
When she turned, she saw Adelia and Rachel, who had been observing from a distance, now beginning to approach. Both their faces clearly showed worry—eyes wide, lips tight, their steps hurried. They were even running lightly towards her, as if afraid Margaret would collapse before they could reach her.
And as Margaret's back began to move away from the spot, she was completely unaware that the puppy she had been searching for was actually still in that yard.
The small creature was hiding so neatly in a gap that was almost invisible to the human eye.
Meanwhile, the school yard, which had been bustling moments ago, began to empty.
The majority of students had moved towards the front gate, gathering to wait for the buses that would take them back to their respective homes. The sounds of laughter, chatting, and booming footsteps slowly faded, leaving behind a strange silence among the remnants of the crowd.
And in the middle of the silence that was beginning to press in, the unimaginable happened.
The small puppy's body, which had been previously tiny and fragile, slowly began to change shape.
Its limbs lengthened, its arms and legs adjusted themselves, and its face also transformed, forming the posture of an adult human.