A week after the last of the snow had melted, Yona woke up from a nightmare just before dawn and shook Aleksander awake, her heart still thudding with fear and certainty. “We must move,” she said when he opened his eyes and slowly focused on her, coming back from whatever dream world he’d inhabited without her.
He blinked a few times. “We move in a week. You know this. We are still gathering supplies.”
“No, we must go sooner.” She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t describe the sixth sense that sometimes told her things. Even after all this time, she could still hear Jerusza’s voice whispering to her, sometimes laughing at her, in the wind.
“How will I explain it to the others?” Aleksander asked, and Yona could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe her.
“Tell them you’re worried. That the Germans could be on their way now that the terrain allows it again.”
“But is that true? It’s still quite cold.”
“You think that will stop them?” She closed her eyes for a minute, and all she could see were uniformed men spilling from the trees, gunfire exploding like tiny bursts of flame from machine guns designed to erase them all from the earth in the space of a few heartbeats. “It won’t, Aleksander.”
“But there are only twenty-six of us. Not worth the time it would take for them to come this deep into the forest.”
“It doesn’t matter. You know that. And now that the snow has melted, their dogs will be able to track us again. We’re in danger and we must go. Please, you must believe me.”
He stared at her for a long time, his mouth a thin line. “Not today, Yona. Tomorrow. We need time to get ready, and time to mentally prepare. We’ve been here all winter. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have a sense of home again? No, you wouldn’t, because you’ve never really had one, have you?”
The words stung. “This feels like my home, too, Aleksander. That means something to me.”
“Well then, you can understand why I can’t just ask the group to abandon this place.”
“You aren’t asking that,” she said quietly, so quietly that he didn’t seem to hear her as he sat up and pulled a sweater on over his head. “You are asking them to trust you. To trust me. To survive.”
His only response was to get out of bed, pull his coat on, and disappear without a word through the small door of their zemlianka. As she sat in silence after he was gone, she looked around for a moment, taking in the gently sloping floors, the wooden walls, the shelter that had helped keep them safe and alive, living on borrowed time. She would miss it. But she could deal with an aching heart.
She spent a half hour packing her belongings; then, emerging from the shelter, she scanned the clearing. Several people were already up, enjoying the first temperate morning they’d had in months. The four older children were chasing each other around, laughing, while Daniel watched from Ruth’s lap, clapping merrily. Yona was surprised to feel tears in her eyes as she paused for a few seconds to watch them.
Zus approached from across the clearing, where he’d been working with Chaim to clean the group’s small collection of guns.
“Aleksander says we must leave sooner than planned?” he said, his arm brushing against hers as he turned to stand beside her, watching the children play.
“Yes.” She could feel the tension in her neck, still there from the words she’d exchanged an hour earlier with Aleksander. “I know it’s not convenient. But it’s to keep the group safe. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Zus waited until she looked up at him. His eyes were full of astonishment. “Yona, don’t be sorry. You’re doing what you can to keep us safe. We should all be kissing the ground you walk on.”
She bit her lip and looked away. “You believe me?”
“Of course I do. It’s clear by now that your instincts have helped save us. Why on earth would we ignore them now?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Aleksander’s words about her never knowing a real home still burned a hole in her chest. “Aleksander said that I can’t understand how the rest of you feel because my past is so different. I think perhaps he’s right.”
“Yona.” Zus’s voice was deep, and she was surprised when he touched her arm, his fingertips lingering. She could feel goose bumps prickle where his skin met hers. “He’s not. He’s not right.”
When she looked up at him, she was startled anew by the green of his eyes, which seemed to change with the weather, with his mood. Today, his eyes were bright, alive. “Perhaps you don’t really know.”