The sun was barely rising over the mountains surrounding the small homestead where John Peterson lived, a seventy-year-old man who had dedicated his entire life to the land.

That morning, like many others, he set out early with Bella, his faithful dog. The fog still covered the field when John noticed that Bella, usually calm, suddenly began to bark and agitate, pointing towards a small grove at the edge of the property.

— What’s wrong, Bella? — he asked in his hoarse voice, following the dog. Bella ran ahead and stopped near a bush. From there, a faint cry broke the silence.

To his astonishment, he saw three babies, wrapped in tattered blankets and placed on a makeshift bed of dry leaves.

They were two girls and a boy. The old man, paralyzed by shock, looked around, searching for someone or at least a clue about who could have left them there.

— Who could do such a thing? What kind of scoundrels?! — he whispered, running his trembling hands over his face.

John sighed deeply and carefully took the three babies into his arms, wrapping them in his old wool coat… and then he froze, seeing something unusual.

As John cradled the babies, he realized that each of them wore a small silver chain with a tiny charm, they were all shaped differently. One was a little moon, another a sun, and the third a star.

He had a couple of friends in the village down the road, but no one who could step in and care for three tiny infants at a moment’s notice. The nearest hospital was about twenty miles away, and John’s truck was old, but it was the only option he had.

Then, with Bella at his side, he rushed them to the house. He found a few cans of condensed milk in his cupboard and started warming some water to prepare a makeshift formula.

Who could have left three babies on his property? His farm was pretty isolated, halfway between a dusty back road and a dense forest. It wasn’t a spot that travelers frequented.

Once he fed each baby with a tiny spoon, a quiet sense of responsibility settled over him.

He decided to call his friend Marta, a retired nurse who lived in the village. She told him to bring them over or stay put if it was too risky to travel, and she’d come as soon as possible.

— Marta, can you come here? I’ll pay for your gas, anything. I’m afraid to move them just yet.

— Of course, John. I’ll be there in half an hour.