The small girl staggered through the streets, the icy sleet cutting into her tattered coat and making her nose turn red.
It was Christmas Eve and there she was, freezing cold with nowhere to go. She looked in the windows and saw the families in their warm homes, decorating the tree.
Some had rows of popcorn on string; others were sprinkled with silvery tinsel. Most of them were gaily adorned with metallic spheres, each hanging from a small hook. Every tree had a bright tin star gracing the top.
The girl sighed, wishing she had a family to celebrate with, a home to stay in during the fierce winter storms. Alas, she was orphaned at the fragile age of six, forcing her into the horrid orphanages. She was in and out of those wretched 'Homes for girls', and foster homes. As she had just turned twelve years old, it was evident she would inevitably never be adopted.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away before it could freeze to her skin. She had run away from her last foster home, deciding to take her chances on the streets instead. Her caregivers were a hard-hearted couple, probably only in it for the pension paid by the government each month like clockwork. The money was supposed to go to buy food and clothes for her, but they kept it for themselves and left her with the oversized garments she had found at a church clothing drive.
She slipped on a patch of ice and fell on her back. She lay there, letting the biting rain and the frigid wind fall upon her. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to forget her current circumstances and let her mind drift back to sweeter memories.
"Careful, honey! You don't want to trip and fall, do you?" Her doting mother asked, chasing her five-year old daughter around the front parlor.
She squealed as she ran circles around the sofa, always managing to be on the opposite side whenever her mother thought she was about to catch her.
"Whoa, there! Hold your horses, little one!" Her father chuckled, scooping up the toddler. She giggled and squirmed, reaching for her mother.
"And to think; just a moment ago, you were running from me!' Her mother laughed, a wonderful, musical noise. She settled her child on top of her growing belly. "Dear, what do you want to name your little brothers?"
Her brow crinkled. "Bwoders?"
Just then, Big Ben chimed in the background.
The recollection was cut short by a wet nose nudging her temple. She scrabbled back on all fours, until her back hit a brick wall. Standing in front of her was a massive St. Bernard, long tendrils of drool hanging of its mouth.
"Stay back." She said it calmly, getting up but avoiding eye contact, just as her father instructed her to do.
"You can never know an animal's demeanor. Making eye contact is considered challenging the dog, daring it to come out and fight."
The dog just stared at her, its big golden-brown eyes warming her despite the distance between them.
"Are you a nice doggie?" She inquired, tentatively sticking out a hand, and moving a step closer to the dog.
It advanced toward her, until placing its head under her hand. She rubbed gingerly, and the dog sat down and leaned into her.
"Aw, I knew it. You're just a sweet lost soul like me. Do you have a name?" She checked its neck for a collar, and found none. "Well, seeing as you have no title, I shall give you a name myself. You need someone to care for you and I need someone to care for me so how about Nana, to match your sweet personality.' 'Nana' stuck out her tongue and began to pant. "I believe that means you like it."
They strolled down the street, looking for an alcove to camp out in until the weather calmed down. She jumped in surprise as she realized something. "Nana, I never told you my name! I'm so terribly rude. I'm Wendy. Wendy Darling."
uuuuuu
Curled up in a doorway, snuggling with Nana, Wendy Darling fell asleep.
When she woke, fluffy clumps of snow were floating down around her, creating a pearly haze around her. She stood up, brushed the snow off herself and Nana, and together they set out on the snow-veiled cobblestones.
It was Christmas Day, 1902. And honestly, Wendy couldn't be happier.
Granted, she was still a homeless orphan, but no longer alone. She had Nana, the best present she could have received. She thanked the Father Above repeatedly for her newfound friend.
The girl and her dog meandered down the road, stopping to look at the breads and cookies in the window of the bakery. Luckily, Wendy was able to find a half-eaten pound cake in the garbage behind the shop. She and Nana feasted on the sweet confection for their breakfast. They then resumed their walk.
Little children came out to play, enjoying the pleasant weather. They saw Wendy and invited her to join them in a snowball fight. Some of the kids were put-off when they saw Nana, but she assured them of her kindness. Soon enough, the formerly frightened youngsters were riding the giant dog like a small horse.
They frolicked across the yards, throwing snowballs at each other, until one of the mothers saw the way Wendy was dressed—'Surely an orphan,' the distressed woman mused—and ushered them all inside, scolding them for associating with someone like that.
Pushing down the rising feelings of hurt and rejection, Wendy fetched her dog and marched down the lane.
They stopped by an inn and she used her last few pennies that she had stolen from her guardians and paid for the smallest room available. The innkeepers were hesitant about allowing the dog in, but she told the couple Nana was very mild-mannered and well-behaved. Wendy wasn't completely sure about the last one, but they didn't know that. After a lengthy discussion about the whether they were running an inn or a barn, the wife kindly consented to let Wendy keep the pet with her, as long as it stayed off the bed.
Wendy collapsed on the small cot, the only thing occupying her room besides a chest of drawers which she had nothing to put in. She was utterly exhausted, and she wished for sleep. Much to her surprise, her prayer was answered.