It’s a dark and cold January night. Midnight is near, and the world lies silent. Everything is still, except for the bare branches of leafless trees swaying in the icy wind. It’s far too cold for anyone to be outside at this hour.

But there’s something. Running. Running like its life depends on it. If it could sweat, it surely would—but it’s not human. It’s something else.

Why is it running so fast? No one is chasing it. Could it be rushing home to someone or something waiting for it? Does it even have a home? A family?

No one knew, in the stillness of that hour, that this was little hope. Running as fast as it could—because somewhere out there, someone needed it most.