Coat
Like Eurydice herself, her coat had been through a lot in life. Found during a particularly lucky round of scavenging, it was in disarray even at the time, but nothing she couldn't learn how to fix—and even if she couldn't, falling-apart clothing was better than nothing when winter set in.
Luckily, well-placed stitches were able to repair the coat, and from then on she never let it out of her sight. It was like a second skin to her in winter, and in summer she let it loose but always slung it over a shoulder to keep it close by.
The coat was warm and thick and a couple sizes too big, and Eurydice felt safe when she wore it, protected from the winds and anyone who dared approach. In the worst storms she could even hide under it if need be, safe until the winds changed again.
But that was before the worst storm she'd ever seen. When the winds ripped her faithful coat from her shoulders and carried it off, never to be seen again, Eurydice knew she was dead on her feet.