In a rain-soaked, grimy alley, a small figure lies almost imperceptible, hidden beneath a tattered, hole-ridden blanket. Beneath it, a two-year-old child—still innocent, yet hardened by the harshness of a homeless life—clings to the frayed fabric as though it were a lifeline.

She shivers, her tiny hands clutching the blanket tightly, when suddenly, the sound of footsteps breaks through the stillness. The footsteps grow louder, slow and deliberate, as if whoever they belong to knows exactly what they’re looking for.