Gru stepped through the knee-deep snow, thankful that he at least was wearing his thick snow pants and heavy insulated boots. To think he had been embarrassed when his mom tucked them into his suitcase, along with a hand-knitted scarf and matching hat. Despite the cold wind and wet snow, he felt quite toasty in his snow gear. He continued to tramp down the road, long past the Harrow Hotel and surrounding city buildings. Now, he was walking through his very least favorite part of town, where the run-down buildings loomed around him, blocking out all the bright, colorful lights of the big city now miles behind him.

Gru pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and glanced around with apprehensive eyes. Even though he considered himself to be one of the scariest villains of all time, something felt quite eerie about this area. Of course, he had his ray gun in his pocket just in case, but something else was nagging at the back of his skull – the silence. It was not the peaceful quiet of his neighborhood, but unearthly silence. No one was bustling, it was dark and somehow seemed even colder than anywhere else he had walked. The slight sound of the whistling wind and the crunching of his footsteps in the snow was all that reached his ears. He tried to put this out of his mind and instead, imagined what his girls were doing right now. He had no doubts that they were upset about him not being home, but how surprised they would be when he nudged them awake to wish them a "Merry Christmas"! He could not help but smile, envisioning their rosy cheeks and bright, shining eyes. Just thinking about them made him quicken his pace as best as he could through the deep snow.

But then, as he continued to stare at his feet dragging through the snow, something else caught his attention a few yards away. He cocked his head to the side and squinted against the wind to make it out; it was footprints, looking rather fresh. They had come from the opposite direction and had disappeared in the ominous alley to his left. But as Gru puzzled momentarily over the recent prints, a sudden, sharp noise startled him, causing Gru to nearly jump out of his skin. He promptly whipped out his ray gun, aiming it at the dark alley with precision. He stood there, breathing heavily, knowing that he was not alone – the noise sounded oddly enough like a high-pitched sneeze.

"Who goes there?" he shouted into the darkness. There was no response, only his own voice echoing back at him. His ears suddenly became more alert, nearly ringing, and strained to hear any sort of movement. After standing in the snow for a few more minutes, like a deer caught in headlights, he took a few tentative steps forward, still brandishing his gun.

"I am warning you," he growled, darting his eyes around suspiciously. "If you even think about trying any funny business..." Gru's voice trailed off as his pupils started adjusting to the darkness. There was a dumpster to his right and a pile of cardboard boxes to his left; nothing spectacularly out of the ordinary – save for the footprints he had followed. They had never left the alley, on the contrary, they came to stop in front of a large box at Gru's feet. Heart pounding in his chest, he hesitantly knelt down in the snow and peered inside.

At first, he thought it was only a pile of old clothes, or maybe a cat curled up, trying to stay warm – anything than what he knew he was seeing. The familiar green coat, the black boots, the crooked glasses on the bridge of the tiny, red nose...

"Margo?" Gru's voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

It was indeed his oldest girl, lying as still as a corpse. Her chestnut hair had straggled out of her ponytail, hanging over her pallid face in a stringy mess. Why her little hands were absent from her gloves, Gru had no idea. But her fingers had turned an unhealthy shade of purple, and her ears were a bright red to match her nose. Hands trembling, Gru reached into the box and carefully pulled out the girl.

She was so limp in his arms, like a rag doll. She felt so broken – so lifeless when her limbs hung from her body. Gru's brain was buzzing, asking the question of what she was doing out here, miles from home by herself. Where was Dr. Nefario or the minions? He told them to watch her. What had happened? His insides were screaming.

"Margo?" he asked tentatively. He shook her slightly, and asked again. And again. He leaned over and placed his face next to hers, fearing that he would never feel her breath on his face ever again.

But a tiny sliver of hope filled his chest as he caught the slight warmth of an exhale on his cheek. He fought the tears back, save for one that landed on sweet Margo's nose, and unzipped his coat, stored Margo inside, and zipped it back up halfway. He peered down into the winter jacket, seeing his girl's sweet, pale face pressed up against his chest. A fire burned in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his daughter and raced as smoothly as possible back towards the city.

"Hold on, my little warrior," he breathed, baring his teeth against the stinging wind. "Hold on."

…...