Curled among flattened cardboard and torn trash bags was a little girl, no older than five. An oversized adult coat swallowed her small body, sleeves hiding her hands. Her curly brown hair clung to her cheeks, her nose red, lips cracked from the cold. One shoe was gone. The other barely held together.
For a moment, Ethan couldn’t move. The alley smelled of damp concrete and neglect. Yet the girl looked up at him with eyes far too weary for someone so young.
“How did you end up here?” he asked quietly.
She coughed, dry and brittle.
“I was trying to get to the hospital where my mom works… but I got lost. Someone said to follow the lights.”
Ethan glanced back at his building, glowing behind them. She had followed the only brightness she could find.
He knelt instantly.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You’re not alone now.”
She didn’t resist when he wrapped his scarf around her neck, her small fingers gripping the fabric like a lifeline.
Ethan called 911, his voice unsteady as he explained. When he hung up, he lifted her carefully. She felt heartbreakingly light.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Lucy,” she whispered. “Mom calls me Lucy-Bear.”