“You must see that they are people. That they are, in fact, like you and me. You can use this knowledge poorly—if you use it to scrape some semblance of forgiveness out of the dregs of your heart. If you assume that they must only do what they are doing out of helplessness, or obedience, or acting on bad information.”

“Uh-huh,” Phillip said, unconvinced.

“Or.” Simone punctuated the air with the cigarette. “You can take that knowledge and use it to remind yourself that these are only people you are fighting. Fallible. Stupid. Cruel. They have made their choices. Like you, they are probably set in their ways. And also like you . . .” Simone pushed the flat of her palm to her chest. “They are soft and fragile, and one bullet is usually enough.”

Phillip’s smile gleamed in the moonlight. He wasn’t tall or short, a little soft around the edges, but there was a structure to his smile that put her more at ease. They may have sent her an amateur, but he could be a quick study.

“You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

Simone couldn’t help but smile. “I hope so.”

She checked her compass and map. “We’ll see the valley of Siegen soon.” She pinched out the butt of her Gauloise. “Stay quiet. There may be scouts.”

As she said it, though, she became all too aware of the stillness that had settled over the forest. When was the last time they’d heard something other than the crunch of their boots in dead leaves? She trudged ahead of Phillip in search of the ridgeline and strained to hear anything between the trees. Thankfully, he didn’t ask questions, just pulled the rifle he’d taken from the farmhouse out of its loop on his pack.

Something shuddered deep in the earth then, a pulse like drums. For a moment, she thought it was the sound of her own heart in her ears, but no—it was all around them. Where the earth had been soft just moments before, it now sifted like ash under her feet. The trees had tightened, desiccated—as if some wave of sickness were coursing through them at record speed.

A tug in Simone’s chest made her vision blur, and for a moment, ancient ruins loomed before her, then melted away again. It reeled her forward—she wanted to stand in the ruins, run her hands against the cool stones.

Idiot girl. A mirage, a trick of the starlight. She had to steady herself against a tree trunk to catch her breath. The forest was still the forest.

“Did you feel that?” Phillip whispered. He was panting alongside her, his features no longer clear.

Simone nodded, not caring whether he could see her or not. Then, with a tap to his wrist, she took off running toward the ridgeline, the stink of smoke heavy in her nose.