He held up a small bundle a bit sheepishly. “Rope. You mentioned making a net. I thought this might help.”
Yona stared. “Rope?” She had planned to show him how to weave rope from nettles, which were plentiful in the forest. It would have taken the whole day, but it would be a lesson that would serve him well in the future. “Where did you get rope?”
“We took some clothing on the way to the forest.” His eyes slid away. “Not much, but enough to prepare for the winter, from villagers who already had plenty. We decided as a group last night that it was worth it to sacrifice one sweater if it would help us to fish. Moshe is a tailor; he spent the evening unraveling it.” He hesitated suddenly. “Were we wrong to do that?”
She could feel the tension in her chest dissipating. “No. We can use it. But in the future, keep your sweaters for the winter. You will need all the warmth you can get. I will teach you how to make rope from what the forest gives you.”
They had both been taking tentative steps forward as they talked, and now they faced each other in the clearing beside the stream, just two meters apart. “How do you know all these things, Yona? Who are you?”
“I wish I knew.” She let her gaze slide away. “Come. Let’s build a net to catch fish.”
* * *
By the time the sun hung high in the sky, Yona had taught Aleksander how to make a basic kryha, and then, because they had plenty of rope left over, she taught him how to make a gill net, too, showing him how to find two trees near the side of the stream, string a cord between them, and hang pieces of rope from the top down, knotting them methodically in a diamond pattern to create a one-inch mesh wall. They used the last of the rope to secure the net to the bottom of the stream with stones to weight it in place.
When they were done, they climbed out of the water, side by side, letting the sun warm their skin and dry their clothes. Aleksander stared in awe at the results of their handiwork. “Now what do we do?” he asked.
“Now we wait,” Yona said. “The fish will come.”
Aleksander shook his head in astonishment. “Yona, you’re a gift from God.”
“No.” She looked away. “I am just trying to do what is right.”
She could feel him studying her. “Well, I thank God, all the same, for sending you to us.” He was silent for a few minutes more. She could feel herself breathing in the silence, so heavily that it was audible. What was wrong with her? “I make you uneasy,” he said gently after a moment had passed. “I don’t mean to.”
“I—I’m not accustomed to people.” She ducked her head.
“And I’m not accustomed to beautiful women who know the forest. But I think I could get used to it, if you could.”
She looked up at him, confused, and saw him smiling at her. Her cheeks burned as she looked away and busied herself with collecting willow twigs.
“What are you doing?” Aleksander asked after a moment. “Can I help?”
“Yes.” Her voice cracked. She felt strange, shaky. “See if you can find some birch bark. I’m making you a large basket to bring your fish back to your people.”
He watched her as she began to weave together the most pliable twigs she could find, her fingers moving rapidly, expertly, for she’d done this a hundred times before. “Surely we won’t need a basket that large.”
“Are you certain?” She nodded toward the gill net. “Look.”
Aleksander turned to look at the stream, and when his eyes met Yona’s again, they were wide with surprise.
“There are already dozens of fish there.”
“Yes.” Yona allowed herself a small smile.
“But… with something so simple, I’ll be able to feed everyone, all the time.”
“Until the winter comes.”
As the smile faded from Aleksander’s eyes, Yona regretted the words. She should have let him revel in the realization that he could provide for his people after all. “It’s all right,” she said gently after a moment. “There are ways. I will teach you about foraging. About preserving your fish and meat. You can’t stay in one place too long, either.”
She could see the lump in his neck bob as he watched her. She had been weaving as they spoke, her fingers moving deftly around the sticks, fastening them together. As he handed her a long twig in silence and she wove it through the thatches, making a conic basket that would serve him well, she could see him searching for words. “Why are you helping me?” he asked as she handed the basket over. When she didn’t answer, he added, “You’re Jewish, too, aren’t you?”