I thought my sister would come quickly from the town square, but time began to pass and I started to worry that she’d returned to my parents’ home after all. Emilia and I sat on the steps at Truda’s house and watched as a crowd began to file into a house across the road. That’s when I realized why Truda and Mateusz were standing with the mayor’s wife at the square—they were neighbors. My sister would surely be there at that house—comforting the grieving widow and her large brood of children. I wouldn’t dare to go there myself—so all I could do was to sit with Emilia and wait. She cried endlessly, and sometimes she shook so hard I had to press her against my chest to hold her still.

“Be brave, Emilia,” I said at first, because that’s what I imagined my Mama or Truda would have said if they were there, but it felt like such a cruel request. After that, I didn’t say anything; instead, I cried with her until the sleeves of my dress were soaked with both of our tears.

When Truda finally came along the sidewalk, she stopped dead in her tracks and surveyed the spectacle before her. I drew in a deep breath and prepared to blurt out the sales pitch I had been planning in my mind, but Truda quickly resumed her path toward the stoop. Her steps were falling faster now and her chin was high, her gaze determined. For a moment, I feared she was going to turn us away, especially when she stepped all the way around us and opened the front door.

“Come on then, little one,” she said from the doorway. “Let’s get your bed organized.”

“You’ll take her?” I choked.

“Of course we will take her,” Truda said stiffly. “Emilia is our daughter now. Is she not, Mateusz?”

Mateusz simply bent down, scooped Emilia up and cradled her in his arms like she was a baby, just as he’d done when he rescued her from the town two days earlier. She was far too old and too large to be carried in that way, but she nestled into his large frame anyway.

“Do you need me to take you home, Alina?” he asked. “I can, but you’ll need to wait until we get Emilia settled. Or you can leave now, and you will be home before dark.”

Emilia pressed her face into Mateusz’s shoulder now and wrapped her arms around his neck, and suddenly I felt like an intruder in the early moments of this brand-new family I had somehow helped to create. I shook my head and looked once more to my sister.

“Thank you,” I whispered, but I was completely overcome with gratitude and relief. A sob broke from my lips and I said it again. “Thank you.”

Truda was, typically, embarrassed by my overt display of emotion. She waved my thanks away impatiently, but her eyes greedily soaked in the sight of Emilia in her husband’s arms.

“Go home,” Truda said quietly. “And be careful, please, Alina. This is the last time I want to see you wandering around the township on your own. It’s not safe anymore.”

I ran the entire way home, up the path through the woods to the hill and straight back down to the house. By the time I arrived dusk was falling and I was completely exhausted. My brothers were bringing the animals into the barn, and we shared a glance as I came through the gate. Filipe’s eyes were red, as if he’d been crying all afternoon.

When I threw open the door to our home, Mama and Father were both standing at the dining room table, their hands looped beneath it as if they had been shifting it. That made no sense at all—our furniture had always been in the exact same place for as long as I could remember. I shook myself, as if I was hallucinating one more nonsensical happening in a day that had been the very worst kind of surreal, but the image didn’t fade.

“What are you doing?” I blurted. Mama’s gaze narrowed at me.

“None of your business, child. Where did you take her?” Her tone was stiff, but her gaze concerned.

“Truda,” I said, and Mama nodded, satisfied, and she stepped away from the table back toward the potbellied stove, where a pot of soup was simmering.

“I should have told you to do that... I was too panicked... I didn’t think. Good girl.”

“What did the commander say today?” I asked her, and the softness disappeared from her gaze altogether as she flung a scowl back toward me.

“He is not a commander,” she said flatly. “Don’t ever name those animals as if they are human. Don’t give then the power or the prestige of honored titles. The pigs are invaders, nothing more.”

“What did...what did the invader say?” I asked weakly, and Mama avoided my gaze.

“You need soup. You must eat and stay strong. These months will be hard until we find a way to defeat them.”

“Mama,” I pleaded with her. “I need to know.”

“All you need to know is what you saw today, Alina.” Father said, his voice stiff. “They did not say much more than a whole lot of posturing and warning us that they will be taking the produce...eventually they plan to take the farms for German settlers. This is nothing your mother and I did not expect. We are a tough people—we will ride this out and hope for the best.”

“Take the farm?” I gasped.

“Their plans are immense...unpractical. This displacement will not happen overnight, and as long as the farm remains productive, perhaps we will be spared.”

“But what will happen to us if they take the farm?” I choked. Mama clucked her tongue and waved toward the table and chairs.

“Enough, Alina. We can’t know what’s coming, or even when. All we can do is to try our best to keep our heads down.”

I didn’t want soup. I didn’t want the hot tea Mama made me. I really didn’t want the vodka Father pressed into my hands and eventually forced me to drink. I wanted to feel safe again—but our home had been violated, and Aleksy had died in cold blood right in front of my eyes and every time I closed my eyes, I saw it happen all over again.

That night, I lay in my bed and I stared at the window. Scattered clouds hung low above our house, and I watched the slight curve of the moon when it appeared in the gaps between them. I’d taken the vodka so reluctantly, but once the burning in my throat passed, I felt it loosen my limbs and my mind, and I finally stopped shaking and relaxed into my bed. At last, I let my mind turn to Tomasz, and I wondered how he would hear about Aleksy’s fate. Did the mail still work? Could I send him a letter? Should I send him a letter?

And then, finally, from the fog of shock in my mind the most terrifying thought of all gradually rose and grew louder, until it consumed my thoughts entirely.

Tomasz was in Warsaw, studying at university to become a doctor, just like his father before him.

Aleksy had just been killed because he was a doctor.

What if Tomasz was already dead too?

My heart began to race and the trembling started all over again. I sat up and opened my top drawer, then fished around to find the ring at the bottom. I squeezed it tightly in my palm—so tightly that it left a deep impression in my skin—which was exactly what I wanted.