The Forest of Vanishing Stars(45)

In the morning, his side of the reed bed was still cold and empty, and as Yona emerged into a dim, foggy dawn, their footprints from the night before erased by a fresh blanket of pristine snow, she took a deep breath of damp, cold air and looked skyward for a second, wondering if it would snow again, whether they’d be able to return to the stream to fish some more. They needed the food. When she looked back down again, across the clearing, she locked eyes with Aleksander, who was standing in the woods, one of the rifles slung across his chest, watching her. She felt her heart skip, but she took another bracing breath and trudged across the snow toward him.

He leaned down to kiss her, but his lips landed on her cheek rather than her lips, and they felt cold against her skin.

“I thought Leib was on patrol,” she said.

“I wasn’t tired. I offered to take over.”

“You could have come to bed.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. His breaths were clouds, hanging between them before vanishing. “I needed time to think.”

There was something about the way he said it, something about the way he averted his eyes, that made her uneasy. “Think about what?”

“Think about what? About our survival, Yona! About all the people I’m trying to protect. About the way you’ve put them all in danger!” His words burst from him, a series of tiny explosions.

She took a step back, snow crunching beneath her feet. “We can’t let anything happen to any of them. You know that, Aleksander.”

He made a noise in his throat, half grunt, half laugh. “You say it like you have control over it, Yona. Like you have some sort of deal with God. But you don’t have that kind of power, and I’m not even sure God is listening. We’re out here all alone in the middle of the woods, and it will be weeks, maybe months, before the snow thaws. We don’t have enough food.”

“We will gather more,” she said softly.

“We don’t have enough shelter!”

“Everyone fit last night. It might not be comfortable, but there is enough.”

“And what about when the Germans come?” he shot back. “What then? With fifteen, we could hide, we could move. But with twenty-six? It will be twice as hard. You’ve exposed us to danger, Yona.”

She watched her breath in the air for a moment, an unfamiliar ball of anger rolling slowly in her stomach. She had never felt that way toward Aleksander before, but now she wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him. “What would you have done without me?” she asked softly.

“What?”

“What would you have done without me? You are an intellectual, Aleksander. A bookkeeper. You said it yourself; you don’t know these woods. Would you have known what foods could be stored for winter? How to hunt or fish when the animals became scarcer? How to hide? How to stay warm in the winter? How to build safe homes in the earth?” She hated to bring it up, but the fact was, he’d only survived because she had offered help, besa. Now it was his turn to do the same.

His eyes were hot coals as he stared at her. “Well, Yona, I suppose you’ve put me in my place, haven’t you? I’m useless, yes? That’s what you’re saying? Good, I’m glad you’ve finally spoken the words aloud.”

She took a step back. “Of course that’s not what I meant. Not at all.”

When he laughed, the sound was cruel. “No, Yona, your words were very clear. You’re our savior, and I should just close my mouth and be grateful.”

“That isn’t what I—”

“Well, I suppose you should go back to your shelter.” He’d said your shelter, not our shelter, and somehow this, more than everything else he’d said, felt like a blow. “It’s cold out, and since we apparently can’t survive without you, you should probably go rest up for all your future heroics.”

“Aleksander—”

But he was already moving away, trudging back into the black expanse of the forest, defending the group from dangers that might be lurking in the darkness.

But what about the danger they couldn’t see, the treacherous, icy water of their own decisions? Perhaps there was no protection against that.



* * *



“I’m sorry, Yona.” Aleksander’s words were soft, full of remorse, as he entered their shared zemlianka two hours later, his face red from the cold, snowflakes still clinging, frozen and resilient, to his lashes. Yona had already been to visit the other shelters, checking first on the newcomers, who were all grateful to have made it through another night, and then the original members of the camp, who were cramped but in decent spirits. Luba had a low fever and a cough, and Yona had returned to her own zemlianka, after a quick visit to the larder, with a handful of dried herbs to brew into a tea for her.

Yona didn’t reply now, because what was there to say? When a person apologized, you were supposed to pardon them, she knew. But she couldn’t do that here, because what Aleksander had wanted wasn’t right. There was nothing acceptable about allowing innocent people to go to their deaths because their presence didn’t suit your needs. That was what the people of Poland were helping the Nazis do to the Jews, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was only thinking of the people I brought out of the ghetto myself, because I feel responsible for them.”