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“The narrow but heavily worn path wove its way through the trees and undergrowth, never straying far from the bank of the stream. Some way ahead, near a turn in the path, a large dark shape shuffled slowly along . It was a penguin, Olive decided with some certainty; she had seen such things in books. The penguin turned and regarded Olive and the other toys with its stony little eyes, then continued along the path, around the bend and out of sight.”
A toy penguin, going where it is going.