The Forest of Vanishing Stars(27)

“Our enemies?” Sulia repeated. “Do you hear that, Aleksander? We must consider what she’s saying. She is telling us what to do, but she does not believe she is one of us.”

“Of course she is, Sulia.” It was Ruth who spoke. She had stopped rocking the baby and was rounding up the girls. “She is trying to help, which makes her a friend. We are all just trying to survive. Why not take the guidance of someone who can help us?”

“But who is she, anyhow?” one of the old men asked. “None of us know her from the ghetto, from our villages.”

“Who cares?” another man shot back. “She knows the forest.”

“Well, so do we!” the first man replied.

“Oh yes, Leon, you are going to lead us through the woods now, are you?” the second man retorted. “Feed us all? What’s for dinner tonight, then?”

“Enough!” Aleksander cut off the bickering by raising his hand. “Yona, what should we do?”

“You must—” Yona hesitated, suddenly uncertain—not of the need to move, but of her right to dole out instructions to people she’d just met. But Aleksander nodded encouragingly, and she drew a deep breath before continuing. “We must destroy the shelters, pack up your belongings.” She glanced at Ruth. “Do your girls know how to gather berries?”

Ruth nodded. “But I’m not certain which ones are poisonous, so I’ve been hesitant to let them.”

“I will show them.” It would keep the children busy, but it was also something they should know if they were going to live in the forest for any length of time. The right berries would help them to survive. The wrong ones could kill them, slowly and painfully.

Yona beckoned to the girls, who approached her slowly. Behind them, the older men and women had begun to gather things lying about—a frying pan, a pair of trousers drying on a large stone, a pair of boots, a tattered, leather-bound book—stuffing them into rucksacks. Yona watched Oscher limp across the clearing, and her concern deepened; his leg was in worse shape than she’d realized.

“Your name means ‘dove,’ you know,” said the older girl as Yona knelt down to eye level. Her hair was straight and silky, even though it likely hadn’t seen a comb in months. Her younger sister had tight, tangled curls, and both had rosy cheeks, thirst-blistered lips, and sun-bitten noses. But their dark eyes were bright and interested.

“I know.” Yona smiled and turned her left wrist over, showing them her birthmark. Both girls leaned toward it in fascination, and the older one touched her wrist. “This is how I got my name.”

“It looks just like a real dove,” said the older girl.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Yona asked, and both girls leaned in, eyes wide. “I can feel this dove sometimes, when I’m hungry or sad or scared. It feels as if she’s trying to fly.”

“Whoa,” breathed the younger girl.

“Yona,” murmured the older one, still staring at the deep-maroon birthmark, which Yona could feel pulsing. “I love your name. I don’t know how I got mine.”

“And what is it?”

“Pessia.” The little girl smiled tentatively. “And this is Leah. My sister. I’m older. Only by ten months, though.”

Yona smiled as Leah kicked at the dirt. “It is wonderful to meet you, Leah and Pessia. Can I tell you another secret?”

Pessia’s eyes widened and she nodded, leaning in. “What is it?” Leah still looked uncertain.

“The forest is full of good things to eat—and to drink,” Yona whispered.

“But Mami says it’s dangerous to eat from the forest,” Leah said.

“Your mother was right about that when you were village girls. But now you are forest girls, and I will teach you how to find safe things. There is only one rule. You are never to eat anything you pick without checking with me or your mother first, until you learn. If you will promise me that, I will teach you. Is that a deal?”

Leah nodded, but Pessia looked skeptical. “Does that mean you are here to stay, then, Miss Yona?”

Yona glanced over their heads to where Aleksander stood in conversation with Oscher, Moshe, and the other older man, Leon. She watched for a second as Sulia helped Ruth pack up the baby’s things, and as Miriam, Bina, and Luba began to pull down the leaves and bark from their makeshift shelters. Could she really do this? Give up her solitude, possibly her safety, to help this group to survive? It went against all Jerusza had taught her, but she had to, didn’t she?

“Yes, Pessia,” Yona replied, and just like that, the dove on her wrist beat against her skin, though whether in joy or trepidation, she didn’t know. “I am here to stay for now.”

Pessia studied Yona for a few seconds before a slow smile spread across her face. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yes.” Yona stood and beckoned for the girls to follow her. “I think I am, too.”





CHAPTER NINE




By the time Leib returned with Rosalia, a tall, solidly built woman of about thirty with fire-streaked chestnut hair, dark eyes, a confident stride, and a rifle, the camp was mostly broken down, the group’s belongings packed, the shelters destroyed. Yona had shown the little girls how to quickly and efficiently pick the plump, twilight bilberries that grew around the camp, and how to tell them apart from the poisonous herb Paris berries, which only grew alone, one to a plant. The girls were each filling a basket Yona had quickly woven from willow twigs and bark, and she kept an eye on them as she walked into the clearing to meet Rosalia.