She had been driving her family for weeks now, at only--and recently so--ten years of age.  Their nerves frayed, they asked the small girl time and time again what made this sudden mission so dire, so particular?  And time and time again she would remind them, "It's important."

So it was that Damien found himself out again another frozen night, lips chapped, one hand stuffed in his jacket and the other clutched onto her growing hand as they entered yet another shop.  Her face was not the beaming visage of a child expecting a toy, no, this was the determined puckering of a purpose.

Her brother dragged his feet behind them.  "Soph... it's cold."  His complaints always fell on deaf ears.  Before she had turned vicious glares upon him that now trickled down into slight huffs.  Why drag him along anyway?  This was her vendetta, not his.  Sometimes he got out of it by staying home with Mom, but unfortunately for him she had work to attend to this snowy week before Christmas.

Little boots trudging across the carpet of the shop left clumps of moisture and snow in their wake.  The floor had previously been spotless; business had been slow this evening.  The shopkeeper, an older woman with thin-rimmed glasses and silver-black hair, watched her new patron with a knowing eye.  Children like these didn't often come through here, most of her patrons were art collectors or families looking to spruce up homes for sale.  For what child would go out of his or her way to look for antiques?

She smiled at the exhaust in who she guessed to be the girl's father, "This is not your first stop, I take it?"

He chuckled and nodded as he watched his daughter scrounging every last item, his hand absently touching the hair of the boy beside him who looked rather cross though increasingly curious.  "Afraid not.  Dunno what she's after, but none of us is about to stand in her way."

The boy rolled his eyes.

"I see," the shopkeeper replied.  "No hints or anything?"

"None, she's dragged us to all kinds of stores saying she's gotta find something.  Poor Jay here has had to come on more trips than he's a mind for."

"Well then, Jay, there's a collection of Marvel action figures in good condition I just had brought in to me today.  You seem like a man with a fine eye for such things, could you perhaps look them over for me and help me decide a good value?"

His eyes still retained that bored look, but at the same time his posture seemed to indicate that he was grateful for something to do other than stand around and wait on his crazy sister.  She set out the collection for him to handle at his own discretion, trusting in the awe of children for such things that he would do no harm here.  Damien nodded his thanks, glancing over to where his daughter now rooted through a bin of old toys.

"Sophie!"  He scolded gently, "You can't make a mess of this lady's store like that."

"But I think I found it!"

He blinked, glancing at the object her hands so delicately extricated from the bin.  It was a simple doll with a mane of fiery red hair, aged over many years.  The facial features that had been hand-painted long ago were worn away; the gown that had once been white faded to an aged sepia tone; most telling of all was the tattered wing sticking out of her back awkwardly.

"...oh honey, what about the others?"  Damien sighed, glancing at all the perfectly good dolls that had been discarded carelessly all about the floor around her feet.  At a second glance, however, he realized that his daughter had at least taken the time to lay them out neatly so that none of them was damaged.  He was grateful he wouldn't be taking home a plethora of dolls to his wife to explain.

"No, this one.  It's important."  The look on her face was obstinate.  What could a girl want with a torn and faded doll?  What could have made her want it so bad that she'd spent weeks searching for it?  What made this doll different from its much nicer counterparts?

Sophia's face was touched by a hint of sadness, however, as she gently caressed the tattered gown and wing, barely hanging on by a thread.  Though it somehow matched the description of what she had been looking for, it was in worse condition than she'd hoped for.  Her little frown creased her father's eyebrows.  He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.  "What's wrong?"

"It's this one... but she's not whole."

The shopkeeper had wandered close and now lent her voice, "She's been very lonely, so she's frayed a little.  Not many little girls come looking just for dolls like her."

"But it's this one.  I know it."  Sophia looked on the verge of tears.  Her mouth opened and closed as if lacking the words to describe what she knew in her heart.

By this time her brother had wandered over with an action figure in his hands to show his sister.  He frowned at the look on her face.  "That's the one, Soph?"

She nodded.

"Well then, we just fix her up, right?"  Damien kept silent.  He had expected his son to tease Sophia about the prize but had instead found Jay surprisingly unbothered by its poor condition.  "Everything's still there, it just needs some patching.  We can do that, Mom's good with that stuff."

Their father smiled and gathered the dolls his daughter had sprawled about, carefully returning them to where they had been stored.  "I'm sorry about this," he offered to the store owner as his children happily chattered plans about how they would fix up this doll.  "Thank you for being nice to 'em."  Then he reached for his wallet, "How much for the doll and the action figure?"

The woman smiled, "A good home and periodic reports."

"Huh?" Damien's eyebrows furrowed. 

"It's not often I get good souls like you coming in here looking to give old things a purpose again."  The next, she offered to Sophia in a soft tone, "I want to see what you make of that doll, so be sure to bring it back and show me and tell me all about it.  Deal?"

Sophia smiled big and nodded emphatically, clutching the doll to her chest.

"She's really got it in her blood."  Seyona commented as she watched her daughter set to work on the doll day after day.  The small, clumsy fingers worked diligently--more than was expected of a child her age--to restore the doll.  Each day the project progressed, it became apparent that this was not just some plaything that Sophia would drag through the mud like most of her toys.  This was was precious to her, and her mother wondered that they might have to go find a display case for her when this was finished.

Sophia kept her fingers carefully bandaged so that the numerous pinpricks did not bleed onto her precious idol.  There wasn't much time left so she hurried as best she could.  Even her brother seemed to sense her urgency; where normally he would have tormented her out of sheer sibling rivalry he now waited in the wings or occasionally offered to help bring thread or ribbon or whatever else she asked for.  No one understood her hurry at first, but they all supported her endeavor nonetheless.

Christmas Eve had arrived and the family prepared to receive a plethora of guests--friends they had made over the course of many struggles and many years.  Father Collins, Seyona's father, barely managed to fit through the entryway with his armful of presents.  His grandson, Jadyn, was more than happy to help him bring them all in and set them under the tree.  A few members of his service also stopped by to offer their well-wishes, but did not stay long.  Emily, who had taken them in back when they'd had nothing, filled the house with various weaving scents of culinary excellence; her cooking had always been notoriously desired especially within this family.  The shapeshifter, Alycion, whom Seyona had touched with her empathy and concern, still wore Seyona's offered shawl as she briefly hugged and greeted the entire family.

By then, Sophia had finished her project and sat perched in the windowsill with wide eyes.  She peered out into the snow as a house cat might scour the landscape for mice, tail twitching.  She wrung her hands impatiently, her fingertips damaged.  Jay sometimes sat with her for a bit, sometimes dragged her away to say hi to everyone, and sometimes left her alone in her vigil.

It had grown dark and many of the household were either preparing to go or preparing to settle in for the night.  They had mostly gathered by the hearth in the living room to talk, but none protested that the tree had not yet been lit.  In the weeks prior to this night, her parents had explained her steadfast devotion to this project and somehow the tree and her doll were related.  There was one last thing that needed to happen and all they could do was wait.

"Sophia, honey, it's nearly time for bed.  Santa can't come if you're not asleep.  Your brother will be sore if he misses our house this year."

Sophia smiled up at her mom, who was pulling her hair back from her face with her fingernails lightly.  "I know, Mama.  It's important."

Seyona looked out the window down the dark walkway leading up to their home and smiled, knowing that soon her daughter would perk up with delight.  She was late every year, but she had never missed a special holiday like this one.  It took a minute, but Sophia shrieked out loud when she saw the familiar figure approaching.  Damien had smiled also, knowing what the sound meant instantly, and he and his son headed to the front door to greet their last guest.

"Please excuse me," she began as she had every year and brushed the snow from her things.  Seyona hugged her friend before taking the woman's coat, then her family did so in turn.  Sophia had mysteriously vanished.

"Welcome, El.  We figured you'd be right on time as you always are." Damien jibed playfully.  Though always appearing late, she always arrived at the same time every year.

Eliana removed her cap to reveal a shock of red hair that bounced along her shoulders, her milky eyes resting on each member of the family in greeting.  After conversing with each in turn, she noted the absence of one.  As people began to drift back toward the fireplace, Eliana caught Seyona's arm.  "Where is Sophia?"

"Oh... she was here just a moment ago.  She'd been waiting for you, I can't imagine where she's gone off to."  She turned then to call out to her daughter, who for a moment did not reply.

A minute later the little girl came rushing out from somewhere in the house--though she very carefully took the stairs--with an object bundled very carefully like a baby in her arms.  It was in the shape of a doll; everyone gathered turned to look at each other wondering if perhaps this had been the girl's burning project.

Sophia took Eliana by the hand and led her into the room with the Christmas tree before turning to face her, everyone watching.  Eliana sensed this was important to the little girl and knelt down to her level.  "What is it, Sophia?"

"Um... can you help me put th'a angel up?"  The tiny bundle was offered up shyly.

The brusque woman gingerly accepted the bundle for a moment, looking up and noting that the tree had not yet been finished.  The top lay completely bare.  Why did you wait for me?"  She queried, genuinely confused.  "I always arrive rather late and your parents could have easily helped you."

"It's important."  Was all she said.  Her eyes were fixated on the bundle.

Eliana nodded after a glance toward the rest of the family and turned her attentions to unwrapping the carefully wrapped swaddling.  The figure she found inside was not the typical perfectly porcelain angels that families bought from stores but a lovingly crafted original replica of... herself.

"What is this..." The former angel could not find the words to speak as her fingers traced over the bright red hair that had been left long but had obviously been brushed thoroughly; the soft white gown that bore the stitches quite obviously of a child; the single wing now strongly protruding from her back, not corrected but strengthened; the re-touched face with eyes left pupil-less and milky like her own; but most touching of all: the bright smile painted with a noticeably concentrated effort.

She wasn't sure how, but she suddenly found herself with silent tears streaming down her cheeks.  Sophia's eyes widened and she looked to her mom in panic, afraid she'd upset their close family friend.  Seyona smiled reassuringly at her daughter and at once the girl recalled a memory of her and her mom talking about happy tears.  So were these happy tears?

Eliana drew the girl close with an arm around her shoulders and whispered a soft thank you into her ear before standing to alight the top of the tree with this treasure.  Jadyn plugged in the lights as she did so and for a while the whole family enjoyed the finished project.

Seyona found her close friend sitting on the windowsill where Sophia had sat waiting for her before, long after the kids had been put to bed, staring up at the angel atop the tree.  Eliana was silent for a long time even after Seyona had sat down beside her, but after a while she took her friend's hand and grasped it tight.

"I saw the cuts all over her fingers... did she make that herself?"

"Turned down every angel we showed her for weeks and became intent with this desire to find something she wouldn't explain to any of us.  She worked on it for days and never asked for help.  Damien told me when they found it it was all beat up, and her brother urged her to mend it."

"But why?"

Seyona looked away from the angel and straight into the other angel's eyes, "Because it's important."  She said, repeating her daughter's insistent words.

"I don't understand."  Eliana turned to meet her gaze.  There were plenty of explanations as to why the children wouldn't go this far to create such a valuable, to wait for her so late into the evening.  Her appearance had always been intimidating and her demeanor tended to be awkward and aloof.  She had always been patient with the children but never overly kind or friendly as their grandfather was.

"Sometimes our hearts remind us there are things we've neglected..."  Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish.  Sophia's blunt insistence seemed the best and most complete answer there was to give for her actions.

"All this time I'd been trying to fulfill a role and prove my existence, and here... all this time... it had already been recognized."  Seyona yawned and after a while left her to her thoughts.

We are not saved because we are worthy, we are saved because we are loved.

It was her favorite passage.