If only it was late summer, and she could smell the sun-soaked scent of fir and spruce and be able to stand and watch the finches and starlings flitting between the branches. Her optimism might have outweighed the claustrophobic sensation of life leaning in, of ancient lichen-covered stone houses enclosing her as she walked through the village and the light began to fail. And maybe then she would remember they were all just ordinary people trying to make the best of impossible circumstances. Ordinary people longing for the return of a normal life.

Hélène craved daylight, to see more than what lay before her. She needed it to see into the distance, into the future, into her own heart. She needed it like others needed air. But she told herself, when all of this was over, she would still have her whole life before her. Why worry about the worst thing when it might never happen? And surely there would be better news from the Allies soon?

As she left the edge of the village, she glanced up at the indigo sky and heard the early night birds shuffling in the trees…

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