December, nineteen ninety-six, in Helsinki.

Aulikki Häyhä stumbled down the street, barely able to keep the bundle in her arms. She was following the gaps in the snow, though of course, she had no idea if it even mattered anymore. What more could happen to her, what worse things could be done?

She'd made it, little by little, painstakingly sneaking through the streets in the dead of night. Who knew what monsters lurked in the shadows—or worse, in the daylight? Likki didn't just fear the ghosts and the spirits anymore, she feared everything. There were monsters among men, just as there were amongst the dead. Likki had known them all year now, and she had feared them.

She fled from them.

Fear pulsed in her heart with every step. She knew what she was doing ran against every instinct in her body, but how could she possibly turn back? She couldn't live like this. Not… not with her.

Likki kept moving, forcing her legs forward, though her body struggled against her. Her mind had to overcome every nerve, every muscle, forcefully taking control like a puppeteer fighting the tangled strings of their puppets. Likki took another step, and then another. The snow crunched under her feet.

She realized she hadn't stepped in the footprints like she was supposed to. Another burst of fear shot through her. Likki looked over her shoulder, half-expected to see someone behind her… anyone.

Nobody was there.

She found a new burst of energy and ran—sprinted through the snow. It seemed like another blizzard might be coming, or maybe that was just how Likki felt. Her cheeks were frozen solid, and she'd lost her scarf somewhere in her rush to get away.

A clock showed eleven thirty-five. It was almost New Year's. Almost January.

Almost a full week since it happened.

She couldn't go into the new year like this. Likki couldn't stand it. She didn't know what she was thinking. How could anyone in her state, in her condition, in the life she led and the world she belonged to—how could anyone do something like this?

The building was only a few steps further ahead. Her teeth chattered inside her skull. Chills ran up and down every inch of her fingers, but Likki only wrapped them more tightly around the bundle held tight in her arms. She could make it. She had to make it. Even if she died tomorrow, if she never accomplished anything else in her life, this would be enough.

She couldn't move her hands up high enough to press the bell. They were too frozen. She had to tap it with her forehead. Ice chipped off and stuck to her forehead, dripping down into her eyes. She had to blink it away just to see clearly.

Someone was moving inside.

Likki felt the urge to bolt. Her body screamed at her not to do it. She couldn't. She mustn't. This was a mistake.

Her mind fought back, and in the end, the conflict forced her hand.

Light flooded the street, blinding Likki. She stumbled backward, and nearly fell over. Only a last-minute adjustment saved her, and saved the bundle in her arms from spilling out into the slush on the sidewalk. Likki pressed forward, into the arms of the angel outlined in the warm light.

"En ymmärrä." I don't understand.

Likki shook her head. She pressed forward again, holding the bundle up into the light, pressing it into the woman's arms.

"Ota se," she whispered. Take it.

"Mitä?"

"Ota hänet," said Likki, a little bit louder. "Ota hänet!"

The woman started to unwrap the bundle. Her eyes widened.

A faint cry filled the space between them. The snow absorbed the sound, so it didn't echo very far. No one else would know what was happening. No one else would know what Aulikki Häyhä had done.

No one except herself.

Likki's heart was ripped out of her as she let go of the bundle. The woman lurched slightly at the sudden weight. Her eyes were welling up, and the tears felt like they might freeze right off her face. Everything hurt, and not just physically. Likki had never known such pain, not in all the fourteen years she'd been alive.

And now there was a new life, one she'd given birth to—not by choice, but there she was all the same. A girl, someone she'd brought into the world, and who she was abandoning only seven days later.

If she ever looked at the girl's face again, Likki knew she wouldn't be able to walk away.

Likki turned and started to flee. The woman called after her, and Likki almost made it… but she hesitated. The woman hadn't asked for her to stop, or to turn around, or anything like that. All she'd asked was a simple question, the easiest question in the world.

"Mikä hänen nimensä on?" What is her name?

Likki looked up at the sky, and found the star—the one she'd been watching as she gave birth seven days ago on Christmas Day, alone, afraid, waiting for the ghosts to come, or the men, or anyone who might hurt her and her daughter. That star had gotten her through the night.

"Esteri," she murmured, just loud enough for the woman to hear. "Hänen nimensä on Esteri."

The woman started to say something else, but Likki couldn't stay any longer. She needed to leave, as fast as she could on her frozen legs and frail body. The cold and dark streets were where she belonged. Her daughter would be better off without her, in the warmth, in the light. She'd grow strong, she'd have a good life, and Likki would stay far away.

As Likki considered going home, she realized she couldn't go back. That place wasn't hers anymore. Nowhere was hers. She had to keep moving, had to get out of this half of the city, maybe even the city entirely. She would always be afraid here—afraid of the men, afraid of the ghosts, afraid of her daughter.

Somehow, against every protesting joint in her body, Likki ran. She fled across the city in the dead of night, as the new year ticked over and December ended. Likki decided right then, as the new year began, she would never be afraid again. Something clicked in her mind, some mechanism she had never felt before.

Her whole body seemed to get colder in that moment, her mind frozen solid as she kept moving.

Fear evaporated away, like steam from snow when it was dropped onto a fire.

Likki found a new burst of life, something inside herself to ward away the cold. It wasn't warmth, exactly. It was control. It was a power she hadn't known before. Likki took a more confident step, and another one after that.

She looked back up at the star. Likki couldn't ever look at her daughter's face, but… that star would be enough. That was her star.

Esteri's star.

She made a new wish that year. Aulikki Häyhä would make that same wish every single year, even as she crossed continents and ended up in the strangest of situations and most dangerous of circumstances. Always, on a night in that coldest of months when her memories surged back the strongest, Likki would gaze up at the sky, and wish for her daughter's sake.

Every December, Likki looked up at the sky, found her daughter's star, and made a wish for her—that Esteri's December would be better than the one before.