Roz was a mess. She lay under the tree, covered in a heap of broken branches and pinecones and needles. She still hadn't removed the sticky resin from her body. And then there were the bird droppings. She was about to get up and give herself a rigorous cleaning when she noticed a peculiar twig. The twig was moving. It was crawling along one of the broken branches on the ground. With a gentle touch, the robot picked up the twig.

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