And then the birds began to call, and the leaves fell, and time moved, and the wolf leapt across the stream and left her standing there alone. He had disappeared into the dark woods, but she could still feel how alive he was. She was alive as well. When she walked, Bobeshi walked with her. When she made her way through the forest, her mother was by her side. She had once heard the ancient story from the Torah of how Rachel heard her son’s grief when he came to her grave, for her love for him had never died. If you are loved, you never lose the person who loved you. You carry them with you all your life. They were with her as she ran.

Remember when I loved you above all others and you loved me in return.

Lea stopped setting out tests for Ava. Doing so had served no purpose, and she had found her answer without them. She knew when she saw Ava with the heron on the day he left. Not even magic could stop time completely. One morning there was frost on the ground and the yellow leaves were crisscrossed with ice. The frost faded in the shine of the morning sun, all the same it was autumn. They were in a tree, speaking to one another in the beautiful language of birds, in which heartbreak sounded like a song.

Once he was gone it was only the two of them. Lea had dreaded the fall as much as Ava had, for its arrival meant it was impossible for her to send or receive messages.

“If only time could move more quickly,” Lea said. They had built a bonfire to burn away the chill of the night.

“Time is uncontrollable. It does as it pleases.”

They had both huddled near to watch the fire.

“You can go if you want to,” Lea said. When Ava gave her a look, Lea shrugged and made herself clear. “You can follow him.”

All she had to do was go south until she reached the beach of black sand where a thousand herons all took flight at once to block out the sky to make the world their own. Of course she could find him. She had no need of maps or guides. The world was open to her. But instead, she made Hardship Soup for them to eat for supper. And when the fire had burned to ash, she took the thorns from her bedding, cleared the shards of glass from the grass, and shook the ants out of her dress.

Even if she could fly away, she had no intention of doing so.

PART TWO

1943–44

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE OLD MAN

HAUTE-LOIRE, AUTUMN 1943