Little Macy hummed with her, took her breast, and finally settled down.

Tak-Tam also knew of this spot. It was understood that in the event of a Japanese attack or a bandit one, they would all meet here. The family had survived the initial invasion on account of their village being so remote that the Japanese Army had not passed through. But they had heard the stories of other villages closer to the market towns of Sheung Shui, Fanling, Tai Po, and Shatin that had not been so lucky. They knew what had happened to the people in those places.

The cries coming from the village were agonizing. Ting-Yan heard the wails and shouts of both women and men. She couldn’t tell whose voices they were specifically, though. The feelings those voices now carried were not the feelings of the village’s daily life in the vegetable and rice fields or out on the water, and so they were all unfamiliar. She heard a man cry out and thought it could be Tak-Tam, but it could equally be her cousin Ka-Wan, or one of her mother’s brothers. She wished Tak-Tam would come.

But the day wore on, and still he didn’t. She soothed the baby and tried not to worry, though as the afternoon progressed, the screams and gunshots became unbearable.

Just after sunset the scent of smoke wafted through the trees. Was the village on fire?

Cooking smells drifted out to them on tendrils of smoke. The invaders weren’t burning the village. They had decided to stay the night. The aroma of roasting meat made her stomach rumble, though it also likely meant that one of the village’s precious pigs had been butchered. Going back to protest would only get them killed. Even moving a limb was out of the question, since the soldiers had probably posted sentries around the village. She held Macy tight and kept as still as possible.