

On Moscow’s Red Square, baby Svetlanka blinked at twinkling lights. Bells chimed; pigeons fluttered. 'Goo!' she giggled, waving her tiny striped tie. She snuggled, dreaming adventures. The bright square felt like treasure.

Sixteen years later, Svetlanka knotted her striped tie and grinned. Wolf the beagle wagged. 'Let’s find gold!' she said. 'Arf—adventure!' barked Wolf. They sketched a map and trotted toward shining rooftops.

They followed sun-sparkles along cobblestones, counting steps. 'Left at the fountain?' asked Svetlanka. 'Sniff-sniff—yes!' Wolf replied, ears perking. They hopped across a bridge and chased a golden glimmer dancing up a clock.

Sunset painted the city pure gold. 'We found it!' cheered Svetlanka. 'It’s everywhere—when we’re brave together,' said Wolf, tail thumping. They kept a tiny golden pebble souvenir and skipped home, laughing, map fluttering.
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