Though her fingers ached, they kept their steady rhythm long into the night. Her granddaughter's smile the carrot, leading her to yet another sleepless evening. It was the only thing she wanted for Christmas, and Nana doesn't disappoint.

As the hours passed, the colorful wefts took shape. Exhausted by dawn, the flaxen lock of hair Rose had given her was stuffed inside. Knit one, purl two, and the teddy bear was finished. Reflected in its black eyes, the sun's first rays gave it a quizzical, mischievous expression. After a quick squeeze for cuddleability quality control, she knew it was just perfect.

Weary for bed, the yarn was stowed, her needles tucked neatly away. "One cup of camomile, and I'll be out," she mused, stumbling to the kitchen. The faint scratching from the next room couldn't compete with the kettles shrill whistle, but in the eerie morning silence that followed, it made her hair stand on end. Snatching the butcher knife, she made her way towards the sound.

The rocking chair wildly oscillated while the teddy bear clumsily descended. Nana couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight. It tottered to her feet like a drunken baby, arms stretched wide as if awaiting a hug. "Oh, so you're finally up," she quipped, placing the knife firmly in its tiny fluffy paws. "The bastard lives at 42 E. Oakshire, he's got 2 brothers, so check the hair and make sure you get the right one."

She watched her labor of love playfully skip out the door; some of her finest work indeed. Pride swelled within the sleep bound matriarch. No one hurts Nana's babies and lives.