She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t find them.”
The urgency of the situation settled in my chest. This little girl needed help, and it was clear she had been out here for too long.
I glanced around, hoping to see someone coming down the street, someone who might be looking for her, but the road remained empty.
“Let’s get you somewhere warm, okay?” I suggested, trying to sound reassuring. “We can figure this out together.”
Her hesitation was palpable, her small feet rooted to the spot. Yet, there was a moment—a flicker of trust—that passed between us. She nodded slowly, her breath visible in the cold air.
“Alright,” I said, offering my hand. “Let’s find a safe place.”
As she reached for my hand, I noticed a small cross hanging from a chain around her neck, glinting in the dim light. Her fingers were icy as they curled around mine, and I tucked her hand inside my coat pocket to share some warmth.
The rest of the world seemed to fade away as we walked together, her tiny steps matching mine. I could hear the soft murmur of her prayer, one she repeated under her breath, asking for protection and guidance. It was a plea for salvation on this freezing Christmas night.
