Beneath the thick branches, I finally spotted an abandoned baby carrier, hastily hidden. Inside, a tiny girl was wrapped in a pink blanket far too thin for the morning chill.
Her hands were icy, her lips slightly blue, and her face already marked with tears.
Without thinking, I grabbed the carrier, tightened the blanket around her, and ran to the house. Every step felt endless, every breath counted.
Once inside, I turned on a portable heater, wrapped her in a warm towel I use for Mathis, and quickly prepared a bottle with the powdered milk I had kept since Mélina’s death.
She clutched the bottle with a heartbreaking urgency. Within minutes, she was warmed up and breathing steadily.
Relieved but still trembling, I called for help. The medical teams reassured me: my intervention had probably saved the little girl’s life. She was taken to the hospital and then placed under protection while her parents were located.
