Injured German Shepherd Attacks Rescuers Near Forest, Town Shocked by Discovery…
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The Fateful Encounter at Cooper’s Ridge
A cold wind swept through the Pinewood forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Morning light filtered through the canopy, casting shimmering patches upon the ground covered in yellowing foliage. But the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by shouts and hurried footsteps echoing from the forest edge.
“The first shot missed!” Deputy Lucas Green whispered urgently, lowering his rifle just in time. The German Shepherd before them stood on shaky legs, blood matted into its thick fur, its right hind leg bent at an unnatural angle. Despite its injuries, the dog bared its teeth, hackles raised, positioning itself protectively between the officers and something hidden behind a fallen log.
Officer Reynolds circled left, muttering, “I can’t get a clear shot.”
“Don’t,” Lucas commanded, raising a hand. “Something’s not right here.”
The dog swayed slightly, exhaustion battling resolve. Through the gaps in its defensive stance, Lucas caught sight of something dark beneath the protective posture.
Sheriff Daniels stepped forward, voice grim. “We’re authorized to put it down. It attacked three rescuers already.”
But Lucas hesitated, haunted by the look in those amber eyes—burning with pain, but also with purpose. This wasn’t aggression. It was desperation.
Nestled against the sprawling pinewoods, the town of Oakidge, Montana, wore the scars of time like a weathered sentinel. The main street still bore faded signs of logging companies long gone, their prosperity vanished decades ago. Early autumn had painted the mountains in fiery hues of amber and crimson, contrasting sharply against the deep, unyielding green of the forest.
In a modest veterinary clinic on the edge of town, Dr. Sarah Miller wiped down the examination table, the antiseptic scent mingling with the morning air. At 45, the fine lines around her eyes told stories of years spent weathering both professional challenges and personal loss. A photograph of her late husband in military dress uniform hung alongside her credentials—a constant reminder of service and sacrifice.
Her morning had been routine: vaccinations for a new puppy, medication for an elderly cat with arthritis—until the shrill ring of the phone broke the calm.
“Got a situation near Cooper’s Ridge,” Sheriff Daniels’ gruff voice announced. “German Shepherd, badly injured, aggressive, already snapped at two deputies and a hiker.”
Sarah sighed, grabbing her emergency kit. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Sheriff Mark Daniels was a barrel-chested man of 58, his salt-and-pepper hair framing a face hardened by years of service. Oakidge had weathered forest fires, economic decline, and the opioid crisis under his watch. Facing reelection in November, he balanced traditional values against the changing world beyond the mountain pass. His ever-present squint was the mark of a man who measured trouble before it arrived.
As Sarah’s truck rumbled onto the forest service road, she spotted a gathering of vehicles: two sheriff cruisers, an ambulance, and curious locals drawn by police radio chatter—the town’s unofficial news network. Oakidge had always maintained an uneasy relationship with the wilderness. The forest brought recreation, hunting, tourism—but also danger.
Walter Jenkins, an old veteran who lost two fingers in a sawmill accident after surviving the Korean War, often said, “Nature gives, but she takes her tithe.”
Sarah parked behind the ambulance, noting paramedics standing idle—a bad sign. Whatever was happening, medical attention was being blocked. She grabbed her tranquilizer kit and medical bag, preparing herself mentally. In towns like Oakidge, vets often played roles beyond medicine—sometimes judge, sometimes executioner.
Thirteen-year-old Bobby Thompson had only wanted to test his new hiking boots before school. After saving lawnmowing money all summer, he was eager to join the high school hiking club next year. The trail behind Cooper’s Ridge was supposed to be easy—a warm-up hike his mom approved with strict instructions to be home by noon.
He never expected to become the center of attention for half the sheriff’s department.
Now, awkward and nervous, Bobby stood by Deputy Green’s patrol car, recounting his story for the fifth time.
“I heard whimpering first,” Bobby explained, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Thought maybe a coyote was caught in a trap. When I got closer, I saw it was a big dog. A German Shepherd, I think.”
His voice lowered as Sheriff Daniels approached.
“It looked badly hurt, so I called to it. Then it changed—started growling and showing teeth. I backed away like Dad taught me, but it kept watching like I was going to hurt it.”
Sheriff Daniels nodded, expression unreadable.
“You did the right thing calling us, son. Where exactly?”
Bobby pointed toward a dense pine copse about fifty yards off the trail.
“Near that fallen tree. There’s a little clearing there.”
Sarah approached the scene, observing the deputies’ tense posture—hands hovering near holsters, treating the dog as a threat, not a victim. Catching Sheriff Daniels’ eye, she was motioned over.
“Glad you’re here, Doc. We’ve got a situation.”
Sarah nodded. “Fill me in.”
“German Shepherd, badly injured, won’t let anyone within twenty feet. Lunged at Reynolds, nearly bit Henderson when they tried to loop it.” He gestured to a deputy with a torn uniform sleeve. “Won’t move from that spot. Looks like it’s guarding something, but we can’t see what.”
Sarah peered toward the clearing.
“Has anyone tried food or water?”
“Tried everything. The dog is determined to keep us back. Protocol says we should put it down—especially with this aggression.” His voice faltered.
“But Lucas thinks there’s more,” Daniels added.
Lucas stepped forward, earnest.
“It’s not aggression, ma’am. More protective. Military working dogs have that look. My brother trained them.”
Sarah appreciated the insight. Fear often led to quick judgments.
“Let me try. I brought sedatives if needed.”
As they neared the clearing, Sarah’s heart sank. The German Shepherd was worse off than expected: broken right hind leg, deep lacerations across his flank, an older shoulder wound, possibly a gunshot.
Despite it all, the dog stood vigilant, body shielding what lay behind.
“That’s a trained dog,” Sarah murmured. “Military or police?”
The dog growled low as deputies tensed.
“Stay back,” Sarah said softly, kneeling to appear less threatening.
“Hey there, buddy. You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
The dog’s ears twitched but stance held.
Sarah slowly opened her kit, moving deliberately.
“I’m going to try something. Sheriff, can your men back up thirty feet? He might calm down if he doesn’t feel surrounded.”
Officers reluctantly stepped back.
Sarah filled a collapsible water bowl and slid it toward the dog.
“He’s dehydrated. Even if he doesn’t drink, it shows we’re not a threat.”
The shepherd eyed the water but didn’t move.
Word spread quickly. A crowd gathered at the trailhead—concerned residents, curious onlookers, and Tyler Reynolds from the local paper, camera ready.
“Doc’s trying to save the vicious dog,” someone muttered.
“Should just put it down before it hurts someone,” another said.
Sarah ignored the murmurs, focused on the dog’s intelligent, purposeful eyes.
This was no feral animal. This was a trained soldier on a mission.
“I’m going to sedate him,” Sarah told the sheriff quietly. “Low dose, just to take the edge off.”
She prepared the dart gun carefully, keeping movements visible.
The dog flinched as the dart hit its shoulder but stayed put.
Minutes later, the sedative dulled its defenses.
Sarah approached cautiously.
“Easy, boy. We’re here to help.”
The dog swayed but held ground, eyes locked on her.
She saw the military collar, the scars of service.
“He’s protecting something—or someone.”
The dog whined softly, stepping aside to reveal the hidden secret.
Behind the fallen log lay an unconscious man, blood matted in his gray hair, leg bent unnaturally.
“We need a medic now!” Sarah shouted.
The dog collapsed, exhausted, as help arrived.
That loyal dog had stood guard for days, protecting his fallen master despite grave injuries.
“You did good, boy,” Sarah whispered, checking vitals. “Now let us help you both.”
The man was James Thornton, 72, a remote cabin resident. Sheriff Daniels shook his head.
“That dog wouldn’t let anyone near, not even to help.”
Sarah examined the dog further.
“He needs surgery. These wounds are at least two days old.”
“Two days?” The weight of that sank in. The dog had stood guard, injured, for days.
As paramedics loaded James into the ambulance, Sarah carried the dog to her truck, planning surgery.
“Taking him to my clinic,” she told Daniels.
“Protocol says dangerous animals.”
“This dog saved that man’s life. He’s not dangerous.”
Daniels nodded.
“All right, Doc. But I want full reports.”
“This is a hero, not a threat.”
Driving to the clinic, Sarah glanced at the sedated shepherd.
Something about this case stirred her deeply. Maybe the echo of her husband’s service, or the dog’s profound loyalty.
Her life—and Oakidge’s—had just changed.
That night, under surgical lights, Sarah worked for hours repairing the dog’s broken leg, stitched wounds, and bruised ribs.
“You’re one tough soldier,” she whispered.
Emma, assistant and animal advocate, watched anxiously.
“Will he make it?”
“If infection doesn’t set in,” Sarah said, guarded. “He’s dehydrated, malnourished, out there for days.”
The sheriff called with news.
“James Thornton’s critical but stable. Severe concussion, broken femur, hypothermia. A miracle he survived.”
“That dog kept him alive,” Daniels said with respect.
Sarah stayed with Rex—the dog’s name found in tags lodged in his fur—through the night.
Morning brought reporters and townsfolk buzzing about the “hero dog.”
The Unfolding Mystery and the Town’s Divide
The morning sun cast long shadows over Oakidge as news of Rex’s heroism spread like wildfire. The small town buzzed with excitement and concern, the story of the wounded German Shepherd who had stood guard for days capturing the hearts of residents and drawing attention from beyond their borders.
Sarah Miller barely had time to sip her coffee before the clinic door chimed again. Tyler Reynolds, the local newspaper reporter, burst in, camera and notepad in hand, eyes gleaming with the thrill of a breaking story.
“Dr. Miller, the whole town’s talking about Rex. I need an exclusive before the Missoula stations get wind of this,” he said eagerly.
Sarah stepped between Tyler and the recovery area. “Rex is still critical, Tyler. No photos, no story until he’s stable.”
Tyler scribbled furiously. “So, he has a name? Is it true he fought off coyotes to protect his owner? I heard he stood guard for nearly a week without food or water.”
Sarah’s firm denial was interrupted by Sheriff Daniels, who entered with a manila folder under his arm. “Tyler, don’t you have a school board meeting to cover?” he asked pointedly.
The reporter retreated, muttering about the story going statewide.
Once alone, Sheriff Daniels handed Sarah the folder. Inside were military records revealing Rex’s true identity: a decorated military service animal who had completed three tours in Afghanistan as a bomb detection specialist before retiring five years ago.
Sarah flipped through the documents, surprise washing over her. James Thornton, the man Rex had protected, was his handler.
“No,” she whispered.
Daniels shook his head. “Thornton adopted him through a veterans’ program. They served separately—Thornton was a Marine in Vietnam, then a wildlife ranger for 30 years before retiring.”
“That explains the training,” Sarah murmured.
“What was Thornton doing on that ridge?” she asked.
Daniels’ face darkened. “That’s where it gets interesting. We found a high-end camera in his backpack, memory cards full of photos, illegal hunting blinds, traps set out of season. Looks like he was documenting something.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “You think that’s why Rex was shot?”
“Could be,” Daniels said grimly. “We’re looking into it, but right now, I’ve got another problem.”
He explained that Mayor Patricia Wilson had called an emergency town council meeting for that evening. The incident had stirred fears about dangerous animals and public safety, especially after word spread that Sarah had taken Rex to her clinic rather than the county animal control.
“They’re talking containment protocols, maybe even euthanasia if Rex is deemed a threat,” Daniels said.
Sarah’s face flushed. “He nearly died protecting his owner. That’s the opposite of a threat.”
Daniels raised a hand. “I know. But people fear what they don’t understand. A big German Shepherd that attacked rescue workers makes scary headlines.”
That evening, the town hall was packed. Mayor Wilson called for order as voices rose in heated debate.
Sarah sat in the front row, flanked by Walter Jenkins, the town’s eldest veteran and voice of reason.
“We have a potentially dangerous animal that attacked rescue workers,” the mayor said.
“That’s not what happened,” Walter interrupted. “That dog was protecting his fallen master, just like any soldier would.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Mayor Wilson’s smile tightened. “Protocols exist for dangerous animals.”
She turned to Sarah. “Dr. Miller, why did you bypass standard procedure by taking Rex to your clinic?”
Sarah stood, all eyes on her.
“Rex needed immediate surgery. He’s a decorated military service dog, trained to protect, not attack. If he wanted to harm anyone, this conversation would be different.”
“He bit Deputy Henderson,” someone challenged.
“He warned him,” Sarah corrected. “Rex showed remarkable restraint.”
The debate raged for hours, dividing the town between those who saw Rex as a hero and those fearing liability.
Finally, Sheriff Daniels stood.
“James Thornton is alive because of Rex. He just regained consciousness and asked about his dog first.”
The room fell silent.
“We owe it to them to wait for the full story before deciding.”
The meeting adjourned with a compromise: Rex would remain under Sarah’s care with sheriff monitoring until Thornton could speak.
Walter approached Sarah. “That dog’s story isn’t over, Doc. Not by a long shot.”
Three days later, Rex grew restless, refusing food and trying to stand despite injuries.
Emma tried to soothe him, but his focus was fixed on the clinic door.
“He’s waiting for someone,” Emma said.
Sarah checked his vitals; clinically, Rex was improving. But this was something else.
“It’s Jim,” she realized. “He knows Jim is awake.”
Hospital policy forbade animals, but Dr. Freeman, overseeing Thornton’s care, agreed to a brief visit.
“Mr. Thornton’s been asking about Rex nonstop. Seeing his dog might help recovery.”
Sarah loaded Rex carefully into her truck. Despite injuries, he sat up, eyes alert.
At Missoula General, Dr. Freeman met them, surprised at Rex’s condition.
“They match,” Sarah said. Both had broken legs, dehydration, and fought to survive.
Jim’s hospital room was small, the man pale but alert.
His eyes locked on Rex immediately.
What followed was a reunion that brought tears to all present.
Rex, despite pain, stood proudly as Jim reached out.
“Come here, soldier,” Jim whispered.
Rex placed his head gently under Jim’s hand; a silent, profound bond.
Dr. Freeman noted improvements: Jim’s blood pressure normalized, heart rate steady.
Sarah watched the silent communion, understanding the depth of their connection.
Jim thanked her simply, “For saving him.”
“He saved you first,” Sarah replied.
Before leaving, Jim confided, “There’s more. Rex wasn’t just protecting me.”
“We found something up there—something people would kill to keep secret.”
A nurse ended the visit, but Sarah promised to return, mind racing.
On the drive home, Sarah’s phone buzzed with a news alert: Tyler Reynolds’ article had gone live.
Hero Dog Stands Guard: The Remarkable Bond Between Man and Animal.
The story spread statewide, Oakidge’s quiet life forever changed.
The days following the reunion at the hospital were a whirlwind of activity. Oakidge was alive with rumors, speculation, and a newfound respect for Rex—the dog who had become a symbol of loyalty and courage. But beneath the surface, darker questions lingered.
Sarah Miller found herself juggling Rex’s recovery, James Thornton’s convalescence, and the growing investigation into what had happened on Cooper’s Ridge.
Back at the clinic, Rex’s condition gradually improved. The surgical wounds began to heal, though his broken leg still required careful monitoring. Despite the pain, Rex showed moments of remarkable alertness, his eyes always sharp, always watchful.
Emma Parker, Sarah’s assistant, had taken to calling him “The Guardian.” She often sat with him during quiet moments, speaking softly as she brushed his fur.
“He’s more than just a dog,” Emma mused one afternoon. “He’s a living testament to something bigger.”
Sarah nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. She was reviewing photos recovered from James’s backpack—images of illegal hunting blinds cleverly concealed deep in the forest, traps set in violation of seasonal restrictions, and blurry shots of shadowy figures moving through the trees.
James Thornton’s progress was slower but steady. The hospital staff marveled at his resilience, crediting Rex’s presence as a key factor in his recovery.
One crisp morning, Sarah visited James’s hospital room again. The man looked frailer but his eyes burned with determination.
“Doc,” he said quietly, “there’s something you need to know.”
Sarah pulled up a chair.
“I wasn’t just hiking that ridge. I was investigating.”
“Investigating what?” she asked.
James hesitated, then leaned closer.
“Illegal poaching. Someone’s been using those blinds and traps to kill protected wildlife. I was gathering evidence to report it.”
Sarah’s heart quickened.
“And Rex?”
“He was with me. He protected me when things went wrong.”
James’s voice dropped.
“I think someone saw us. Shot at Rex. We got separated when I fell.”
The revelation sent ripples through Sarah’s mind. This wasn’t just an accident—it was deliberate.
Sheriff Daniels called a meeting with Sarah, James, and key deputies. They reviewed the photos and discussed next steps.
“We’ll need to patrol the area more frequently,” Daniels said. “And keep this quiet until we have enough evidence.”
Sarah agreed, though unease gnawed at her.
Meanwhile, the town remained divided. Some residents rallied behind Rex and James, organizing fundraisers and spreading awareness about wildlife protection. Others worried about safety and liability, demanding stricter animal control policies.
Mayor Wilson’s office remained cautious, balancing political pressures.
One evening, as Sarah closed the clinic, she noticed movement near the edge of the forest. Shadows darted between trees. Her heart raced.
“Who’s there?” she called softly.
A figure emerged—Deputy Lucas Green.
“Doc, I wanted to talk. About Rex. About what’s really going on.”
Sarah invited him inside.
Lucas revealed he’d been quietly investigating too, following trails of illegal activity linked to outsiders exploiting the forest.
“We’re not just dealing with poachers,” he said grimly. “There’s something bigger.”
Days later, Rex’s recovery took a hopeful turn. He stood on his repaired leg, wobbly but determined.
Sarah knelt beside him.
“You’re a fighter, Rex. Just like your owner.”
Rex looked up, eyes full of trust.
The story of Rex and James Thornton was far from over. As the investigation deepened, Oakidge found itself at a crossroads—a small town grappling with loyalty, justice, and the wild secrets hidden beneath the pines.
The investigation into the illegal hunting activities around Cooper’s Ridge intensified. Sheriff Daniels assigned additional deputies to patrol the forest edges, and Lucas Green worked closely with Sarah and James to piece together the puzzle.
The photos recovered from James’s backpack were a crucial lead. They showed not only the hunting blinds and traps but also several individuals whose faces were obscured by hats or shadows. The group appeared organized and well-equipped, suggesting a professional operation rather than casual poachers.
One crisp morning, Sarah received a call from Lucas.
“We spotted fresh tracks near the ridge. Looks like someone’s been back.”
Sarah grabbed her gear and met Lucas at the trailhead. The forest was quiet, the only sound the crunch of leaves underfoot.
As they moved deeper into the woods, Sarah’s heart pounded. The serenity of the forest belied the danger lurking within.
Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes made them freeze. A figure darted away, disappearing into the trees.
Lucas cursed under his breath.
“They’re watching us.”
Back at the clinic, Rex’s condition continued to improve. The dog’s bond with James grew stronger with each visit. Despite his injuries, Rex was alert and protective, often resting his head on James’s hospital bed during their sessions.
Sarah marveled at their connection. It was as if Rex drew strength from his master’s presence.
One evening, Sarah received an unexpected visitor: Walter Jenkins.
“I heard about the trouble up at the ridge,” he said, settling into a chair. “This kind of thing has happened before, you know. People willing to kill to protect their secrets.”
Sarah listened intently as Walter shared stories of past conflicts between locals and outsiders exploiting the land.
“It’s not just about the animals,” Walter said grimly. “It’s about respect—for the forest, for each other.”
Meanwhile, tensions in Oakidge simmered. The town council debated new regulations on hunting and animal control, with some members pushing for harsher measures against wildlife and their defenders.
Mayor Wilson faced mounting pressure from business owners worried about tourism and liability.
Late one night, Sarah was awakened by a frantic call from Lucas.
“Doc, there’s been a break-in at the clinic.”
Rushing downstairs, Sarah found the front door ajar. Inside, drawers were ransacked, medical supplies scattered.
But most alarming was the missing file: Rex’s medical records.
Lucas frowned. “Someone’s trying to cover their tracks.”
Determined to protect Rex and James, Sarah and Lucas intensified their efforts. They coordinated with state wildlife officers and federal agents, hoping to expose the illegal operation.
As autumn deepened, the forest’s colors grew richer, but so did the danger.
One afternoon, Sarah received a call from the hospital.
“James is asking for you,” the nurse said.
At the bedside, James looked frail but resolute.
“There’s something else,” he whispered. “Something I found on my last hike—before the attack.”
He handed Sarah a small, weathered notebook filled with coded notes and sketches.
“This is bigger than poaching,” James said. “It’s about protecting something hidden deep in these woods.”
Sarah’s mind raced as she examined the notebook. The clues hinted at a secret that could change everything for Oakidge.
With Rex by her side and the town watching, Sarah knew their fight was just beginning.
The notebook James had handed Sarah was unlike anything she had seen before. Filled with cryptic notes, sketches of the forest, and strange symbols, it seemed to be a map—a guide to something concealed deep within the Pinewood forest.
Sarah spent hours poring over its pages, trying to decipher the coded messages. James explained that he had stumbled upon the notebook while exploring an old ranger’s cabin near Cooper’s Ridge years ago. The cabin had been abandoned, its secrets long forgotten.
Meanwhile, the town of Oakidge was on edge. The news of the break-in at the clinic and the missing medical records had spread, fueling rumors and fear.
Mayor Wilson called for calm, but the division among residents grew sharper. Some demanded action to root out the illegal hunters; others worried about the safety of their community.
Sarah, James, and Lucas formed a small team to follow the clues in the notebook. They planned a careful expedition into the forest, hoping to uncover the truth behind the secret James had hinted at.
Rex, now stronger and more alert, accompanied them, his keen senses a valuable asset.
The journey was arduous. The forest grew denser, the terrain more rugged. The trio navigated by the notebook’s sketches, discovering hidden trails and forgotten landmarks.
After hours of trekking, they arrived at a secluded clearing surrounded by towering pines. In the center stood a weathered stone marker, its surface etched with symbols matching those in the notebook.
James knelt beside it, tracing the carvings with a trembling hand.
“This is it,” he whispered. “The boundary marker.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the trees. Shadows emerged—figures from the group responsible for the illegal hunting.
A tense standoff ensued.
Sarah stepped forward, voice steady. “We know what you’re doing. This forest and its creatures deserve protection.”
The leader sneered. “You don’t understand what’s at stake. This land holds secrets worth killing for.”
A struggle broke out. Rex sprang into action, barking fiercely, his presence buying precious seconds.
Lucas and James managed to call for backup, and soon, law enforcement arrived to arrest the intruders.
In the aftermath, the team uncovered evidence of a smuggling operation involving rare wildlife and ancient artifacts hidden in the forest.
The stone marker was part of an old treaty protecting sacred land—a secret that some wanted to exploit for profit.
Back in Oakidge, the community rallied around the truth. The illegal hunters were prosecuted, and new conservation efforts were launched.
Rex became a local hero, symbolizing courage and loyalty.
James, grateful and healed, vowed to continue protecting the forest he loved.
Sarah reflected on the journey. What began as a rescue had unveiled a deeper story of respect, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond between man and dog.
Epilogue: A New Dawn in Oakidge
The crisp autumn air carried a sense of renewal over Oakidge. The forest, once shadowed by secrets and danger, now breathed freely under the watchful eyes of those who cared for it.
Rex, fully healed and proud, trotted alongside James Thornton as they walked the familiar trails of Cooper’s Ridge. The bond between man and dog had only deepened through their trials, a testament to loyalty, courage, and unwavering trust.
At the town hall, a ceremony was held to honor Rex and James. The mayor presented Rex with a medal of bravery, while the community gathered to celebrate the victory of truth and justice.
Sarah stood among them, a quiet smile on her face. The journey had tested her in ways she never imagined, but it had also revealed the strength of connection—not just between humans and animals, but within the heart of a small town united by a shared purpose.
New conservation efforts were underway, protecting the forest and its inhabitants from harm. Educational programs taught respect for nature and the importance of vigilance against those who would exploit it.
Walter Jenkins, the town’s elder, spoke at the dedication of a new wildlife sanctuary.
“This land has stories,” he said, voice steady. “Stories of courage, sacrifice, and hope. Let us honor them by guarding this place, together.”
As the sun set over the pines, Sarah watched Rex resting at her feet. The dog’s eyes met hers, calm and wise.
“Thank you, Rex,” she whispered. “For reminding us what it means to protect and to love.”
And in that moment, the forest seemed to whisper back—a promise of peace, resilience, and the enduring spirit of Oakidge.
The End
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