We ran. The prisoners were long gone, but it was only a matter of time before another guard would return to see why Protz and Irena hadn’t caught up. We darted through the woods, fighting bushes and shrubs that snagged our clothes, trudging through snow, slipping on ice, tripping over branches, putting as much distance between ourselves and the road as possible. When we couldn’t run anymore, we stopped. For a moment, we were too breathless to speak.

By no means could this be counted as a successful escape yet; still, a strange combination of tension and elation rose in my chest. It was a step closer to freedom. To finding Fritzsch and taking action against him now that Germany’s position in the war was weakening. If the Nazis were defeated, they would be made to pay for their countless crimes, surely; once Fritzsch admitted that he killed my family, I would see to it that he was held accountable.

“That was a spectacular performance, Marta Naganowska,” I said, giving Irena a teasing smile after using her old resistance name.

“Thank you, Helena Pilarczyk, I learned from the best. And if I’m not mistaken, that was the first time I’ve heard you curse.”

“I learned from the best.”

Irena flashed a pleased smirk before removing her overcoat and offering it to me. When I hesitated, she heaved an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to pretend you’re not cold in that pathetic excuse for clothing? Put on the damn coat. And yes, I’ll take it back later,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Satisfied with the arrangement, I obliged. The coat was heavy and woolen, warmer than anything I’d worn in a long time. I wrapped it around myself and eased Irena’s leather gloves over my numb hands. Now that we’d caught our breath, we kept walking.

It had been years since I’d been in a forest. Even though it was freezing, the cold, once nothing but my enemy, also became a source of awe. Icicles dangled from twigs and branches, catching the light from the setting sun peeking through the trees. A frozen spiderweb glistened against a bush while a blanket of snowflakes covered a fallen log. Flashes of movement indicated small creatures taking shelter, so quick that I didn’t get a good look at them, but I saw their tiny tracks. The ground was snow-covered and frozen but layered with fallen leaves and twigs that gave way beneath my feet, far softer than the frozen mud I’d walked on for the past few winters.

I’d stepped out of one world and into another entirely new. One suffering and death, the other beauty and tranquility. It was difficult to imagine the same winter creating both.