I was out of the sewer. I wanted to dance, to run, to scream. Of course, I did not. We were standing on a bit of riverbank close to the concrete embankment that led up to the street. Though deserted, the riverbank was exposed. We might be seen by the Germans or the police at any moment. “We can’t stay here,” I said.

“No,” Ella agreed.

I stood upright beside her, noticing for the first time how much taller than me she was. She was staring at me, and I wondered if it was my bedraggled appearance. “What is it?” I asked.

“It’s just so strange to see you at eye level,” she replied, and we both laughed softly. “You should wipe the dirt from your face,” she added more seriously. She looked around for something I could use and, finding nothing, pulled off her fine silk scarf and handed it to me. I could feel my own filth seeping through and soiling her scarf. She did not complain. I handed it back, wishing I had a way to wash it before I returned it to her. She used the edge of it to wipe clean a spot on my cheek that I had missed. Then she wrapped the scarf loosely around my head like a shawl. “There you go.” She smiled brightly, as though that had fixed everything.

“Thank you.” A wave of gratitude washed over me, and impulsively, I hugged her. I thought she might pull back, repulsed by my smell. But she did not. Instead, she squeezed me back tighter. We stood embracing, not moving, for several seconds.

When we pulled apart, my necklace caught on the top button of her dress. I disentangled it carefully. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the charm.

“It was my father’s.”

“It’s lovely. But what does it mean?”

I traced my finger over the Hebrew letters, gold and glittering in the moonlight. My father had done this when I was a child as he explained the meaning and I could almost feel his hand on mine now, guiding me. “Chai. It stands for life.”

“It’s beautiful. But you’ll have to take it off.” I recalled Saul warning me about the necklace, too. In the sewer, I could disregard his concerns. But wearing it up here on the street and revealing that I was Jewish could mean detection and death. I unclasped the necklace and put it in my pocket.

“Now come,” Ella said.

We started east along the riverbank toward Podgórze, the neighborhood where the ghetto had been located. The streets looked bigger than I remembered and everything seemed more ominous and menacing. I should not be here. I was seized with the urge to crawl back into the ground.

We made our way toward the ghetto, taking the alleys and hugging the shadows of the buildings. I cringed at the sound of our shoes scratching too loudly against the cobblestones. Even being out at this hour was a crime, and if seen, we would be detained and questioned. I would never see my mother again. I walked tentatively, afraid that each step might be my last. Ella, though, moved through the streets with a surety that I envied. Resentment rose up in me unexpectedly. This was my city as much as hers, or at least it had been. But now I was an outsider, visiting only by her good graces. I pushed down the feeling. The only thing that mattered now was finding the food. I thought of the others back in the sewer who were counting on me, what would happen to them if I failed to find food or did not return.