“If you’re ever in real trouble, come here,” Claude told Julien. “They won’t ask questions, and the priest will help as best he can.”

The villages became smaller as they went on into the mountains, the lanes were cobbled, and rose trees grew up between the stones outside front doors that were painted pale blue, or green, or gray. Julien closed his eyes at night and replayed their journey, so he might remember his way back. To learn a maze it was best to leave something behind, to chart the path, as Hansel and Gretel had done in the tale of their escape from evil. Since he had no bread crumbs, and no more buttons on his shirt after leaving a trail to the stadium, he left a mark on a tree whenever they stopped. An L, for Lea. A letter he would be sure to notice.

They stayed out of sight during the day and traveled at night. But on the last day they went on until noon. They were near the Ardèche Mountains by then, only a few days’ hike from Switzerland, and the Germans rarely came this far. At last they stopped in a field. The sun was strong. Julien’s skin tanned rather than burned, but Claude, who was pale, was suffering with sunburn and was glad autumn would soon be upon them. Already there had been frosts in the hills, and snow could be seen in the mountains.

“Why are we here?” Julien wanted to know. There were hawks above them and the clouds were moving fast. Everything was changing.

“You ask a lot of questions. Why don’t you ask him?” Claude gestured to the road.

A speeding car had stopped and pulled over. Normally they would duck into the woods if anyone was nearby, making certain not to be seen, but Claude was relaxed, even when the driver got out and approached. Julien thought perhaps the man was a farmer from the look of his clothes and his long, shaggy hair. But the stranger grinned and waved. “It’s me,” the man called. “What idiot doesn’t recognize his own brother?”

Victor was nearly unrecognizable; he had a beard and was angular and rough looking. His skin was puckered on the left side of his face from the burn he’d received, which was as healed as it would ever be, although the scar had only served to make him more handsome. The brothers embraced with grins on their faces.

“I would have come for you, but I had an accident,” Victor explained. “It’s taken a while to recover and I knew you’d be in good hands.”

“He’s the fireman,” Claude said with pride in his friend. “Mr. Explosives.”

Julien was surprised. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Science class.”