The Forest of Vanishing Stars(35)

“I…” Yona looked once more at the bodies of the two men. She shook herself out of it and reached for the rifle lying beside the smaller one. She stood and handed it to Leib. “Go back to the camp. Tell Aleksander what happened. Make sure they’re ready to move.”

He took the weapon uncertainly, his eyes never leaving her face. “What about you?”

“I’ll be along soon. Go, Leib. Run.”

He hesitated only a second more before nodding and dashing into the forest, the gun in his right hand.

The forest had grown quiet; even the birds had stopped singing. After the sound of Leib’s footfalls had faded, Yona knelt once more beside the men. They both had eyes the color of marsh grass, eyes that would never see anything again. She gently closed their eyelids with the palms of her hands, the same hands that had taken their lives, and then, in the silence that surrounded her, she wept. She wept for their families; for the small, frightened group of refugees she had committed herself to helping; for Jerusza; for her own birth parents, whose hearts must have been broken years before when their daughter was stolen.

Finally, she straightened and, grimacing, methodically undressed both men, taking their clothing and boots but leaving their underclothes, for she couldn’t stand to do them the final injustice of baring their bodies to the forest. She bundled their belongings into a pile to take back to the camp. The boots, especially, would come in handy as they moved deeper into the woods, as the cold of the autumn and winter moved in.

And then she rolled both bodies into the shallow stream, the only burial she could give them. The forest would silently absorb them, and by the time anyone found their bones, all traces of her would be long gone. As she watched them sink into the blue, she wiped her eyes. And then, grabbing the clothing and boots, the larger Russian’s gun, and the gill net Leib had left behind, she ran, her feet carrying her into the dark of the forest.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




For the next two months, the group moved every week or so, deeper and deeper into the woods, always changing their location and leaving no trace. Yona taught them how to locate water sources below the earth and how to build simple wells. She showed them how to kill, skin, gut, and cook an adder, how to make a meal of May beetle larvae, how to find hedgehogs, frogs, and duck eggs, which were relatively easy picking when the weather was warm. She demonstrated how to trap and bleed small animals, how to field-dress a red deer, how to construct their own beds from reeds, how to lash together branches to make the frame for a temporary shelter, how to pitch their makeshift oak and pine bark roofs at a fifty-degree angle to keep the wind and rain out when the weather threatened. And slowly, they all began to prepare for the coming cold.

She had intended to stay for only a few weeks, until she was sure they’d survive without her. But somehow, the weeks had turned to months, and as the leaves began to change and autumn began to bare her teeth, she was still there.

“You need to find a place to shelter,” she said to Aleksander one day in late September. The sun hung low in the sky, and a cold wind had swept in from the west. The whole group was hiking through a marshy area deep in the woods, hiding their tracks through sometimes ankle-deep water as they looked for a place to sleep for the night.

They were accustomed to moving by now, accustomed to subsisting on meager provisions, accustomed to burning nearly all the calories they took in. They had all grown leaner, stronger, even the children. Daniel had lost his chubby cheeks far too soon and was just as narrow-faced as his older sisters, who often trooped through the forest whispering and holding hands. They were all much too slim, but at least they were healthy, alive. Yona was thankful for that.

“Yes,” Aleksander said, glancing down at Yona with a smile. “It is nearly dark. Let’s look for a clearing on drier land.”

“Yes. But I meant, too, that you need to find a home for the winter, a place that will keep you hidden, safe, and warm until the spring.”

This time, his expression was confused. “But we must keep moving. You said it yourself. It is how we’ve stayed safe.” The week before, on a quick mission into a village on the edge of the forest to get a new pair of spectacles for Moshe, and for Oscher this time, too, Aleksander and Yona had overheard a conversation between two local women who were talking about a small Jewish encampment a kilometer into the forest that the Germans had discovered the week before. Each of the sixteen refugees had been shot on sight, even two little girls. Yona had felt bile rise in her throat, and she’d had to cover her mouth as the women laughed. The chill in her bones hadn’t gone away.

“But there is more to staying alive in the winter than staying hidden,” she said now. They were quiet for a moment as they approached a flat patch of ground hidden in the heart of a cluster of spruce trees. By silent agreement, they stopped and gestured to the group that this would be their spot for the night. Without being asked, Rosalia and Leib, both carrying guns, disappeared to scour the area for signs of human activity.

“But if we stop somewhere for too long, we become easy quarry, don’t we?” Aleksander asked as they set their packs down on the ground and began to collect logs and large sticks for makeshift shelters for the next few days.

“It is more dangerous to face the cold.” Quickly, she pulled her axe from her pack and began to chop down some of the narrow, dead trees nearby. Silently, Aleksander removed his axe, too, and set to work splitting the long, dried logs into poles. They had established a routine since Yona had joined the group and had begun to teach them. Now, together, they could build a hut large enough for six or seven in under three hours, adding a roof of dead oak or live spruce bark when the cold or rain threatened, and Rosalia could do the same. The others had learned to build shelters, too, though they were slower. Yona liked that they had all developed a rhythm, a set of intrinsic responsibilities. It had never been like that with Jerusza; the two of them shared everything that needed to be done, except in the very end. But Yona had learned that a group this large worked best when there was a delineation of duties.