Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(129)

“I don’t know. But we must keep on.”

Sophie gave a backward glance. “I know.”

We were only sixty or seventy meters from the main road when we heard a small voice behind us. “Where are you going?”

It was little Lotte Hehl hobbling after us with her cane. The mouse, underfoot as usual. I never had the patience for her. It was why I feared I would make a bad mother. Clearly, her own mother was not keeping up with her.

“Have you been following us?” I demanded.

“I wanted to see where you were going.” She was proud of herself. I wanted to slap her.

“We are off to gather holly for the festivities. We won’t be long,” Sophie said.

But Lotte was too smart for that. After all, she had spent her whole life being pushed aside, and so she had learned to be observant, to watch. “You’re going to the forest, aren’t you? To a meeting of Die Eichel! You promised to take me next time! I want to come!”

“Lotte, it isn’t a meeting. We are only gathering holly. Go and have some Lebkuchen before they are all gone,” I said, and I figured that was that. The girl had such a sweet tooth. But I had misjudged Lotte. What she wanted wasn’t a cookie. What she wanted was to belong. To feel special for once. If only I had seen that before, things might have turned out differently.

If only. Is there any phrase more damning than that one?

Well. There’s no fixing it now, is there? Lotte wasn’t having our excuses. She tightened up her little face, so angry, so hurt. “You always say that! You promised! You’re a liar!”

Sophie tried to soothe the girl. “It’s dark, Lotte. I’m afraid you’ll get lost and you would freeze. I must look out for you.”

“I’ll tell Oskar and Klara on you! I’ll tell them where you’re going—without them!”

Her voice rose. I was afraid she would draw the attention of the whole village. I yanked her by the arm and gave it a good pinch. Lotte howled with outrage. Her eyes filled with tears—and fear. I bent my face to hers so she could see I meant business. “Hush! Hush, now! Listen to me! If you say a word, I’ll get the magic of the forest to work a bad spell on you. You’ll never be free of it the rest of your life!”

“You can’t do that,” Lotte protested. But she looked scared.

“I can, too. I’m a witch of the forest,” I said.

“Hanna…,” Sophie cautioned, but my own fear had risen up inside me as an angry monster. That is how quickly it can happen.

“I am a goddess of the old Norse seid,” I told her. “I can weave magic into the world. You’ve seen my wand.”

Lotte began to cry.

“Hanna, don’t!” Sophie knelt before Lotte and handed over her handkerchief. It had her initials stitched into it. “Here. Dry your tears. You’re not going to tell anybody, are you, Lotte?”

“You promised,” Lotte blubbered.

“Keep my handkerchief as a promise, all right? But you should go back to the celebration. You’ll miss out on the sweets and the singing!”

There are moments you replay in your head. No, not that path. The other one. This is one of those moments. Telling Lotte where we were headed. The handkerchief with Sophie’s initials stitched along the edge. Oh, I can see the tragedy of it unfolding. Could I have been kinder? Would it have made a difference? Had I woven a bad magic into the world?

No matter. The past cannot be undone.

Lotte turned, pounding with her crutches back toward the village; we hurried toward the road. The stars watched it all without comment.

The walk to the forest was terrifying. For a while we could hear the songs and celebration and then, there was nothing. It was good we knew the way so well because it was dark with only the moon and stars to guide us. I was used to being fast but the baby in my belly made me tired and clumsy. More than anything, I wanted to lie down and sleep, but Sophie would rub my back. “Just a little farther. We are nearly there.” Always, we were listening for the Kübelwagens, the soldiers who might be out looking for the enemy. But I think we were lucky because they wanted to celebrate the solstice, too. Only one Kübelwagen drove past. We heard it rumbling before we saw the headlights. We ducked into the tall grass and lay flat until it passed by.

I was most scared when we reached the forest. For we were close but not close enough. Like glimpsing hope on the other side of a razor-wire fence. The moon caught Sophie’s face and she was smiling. “We made it to the forest, Hanna,” she said. “We made it. We will wait for Karl. And then…”

She squeezed my hand.

“Yes. Then,” I said.

Now the telling gets harder.

As for this next part, I was not there. I can only tell you what I learned. What was told to me. Like a fairy tale. Sophie and I were in the forest, sweeping away our footprints behind us with the brushstroke of a tree branch, thinking we were mostly safe now because the forest was our second home. We knew it better than the Nazis ever could. While we touched our hands to the Bridegroom’s Oak, our whole plan was unraveling back in the village.

It was while everyone was singing and lighting candles that a message, an urgent telegram, was delivered to Herr Jaeger—a confirmation he’d been waiting for. I never saw it, of course. But I imagine it to be smaller than the love letters Sophie wrote as Miss Lonelyhearts. I imagine the muscles of Herr Jaeger’s jaw tightening in cold anger, for had I not seen the same expression many times?