The soldiers held their hands over their eyes to shield themselves from the brightness that filled the street; they tried to make out what caused the brilliance, but they would never know that Ava was accompanied by the light of the three angels sent to watch over Lea. Melahel, and Ornael, and Haiel, the angels of safe travel, patience, and courage.

“Was machst du hier?” one of the soldiers called to her. What are you doing here?

She was here to see to her duty, her burden, her obligation, her child. In this street that is what she felt and what she knew. Hanni had placed her own tears in Ava’s eyes before they had opened to the world. Perhaps that was why at this moment she felt what she should have not felt, a rising panic. She heard the wind and it told her what to do. Do what you must, do the most not the least, make certain, save her at any cost.

“Come close,” she said in the first human language she had learned. Komm näher.

She was stronger than a hundred horsemen. She would follow her burden to the end of the earth. She glanced at Lea and, with no words, let her know she should run. Lea grabbed Julien’s hand the moment the soldiers’ attention was diverted. They dashed around the corner, over the cobblestones, their hearts pounding, flying along alleyways, throwing open the garden gate, then sinking down behind the greenhouse, their backs against the wall, as they did their best to breathe.

“We left her there,” Julien said, furious with himself. Just as he suspected, he was a coward. His brother had been right. He was not a man.

“She can take care of herself,” Lea told him. “More than we ever could.”

“It’s not right. I’m getting my grandfather’s rifle and going back.”

Lea took Julien’s arm. She leaned close to whisper. “She’s not like other women. You don’t have to rescue her.”

He recognized the truth in this. He had seen Ava at work in the garden; in her hands a spindly tomato plant was suddenly laden with fruit, a wilting rose could be plucked and bloom again. Once, he had spied her in a tree with a dove in her hand, speaking to it before it flew away.

“What is she, then?” When Lea was silent, Julien grew concerned. “If you trust me you’ll tell me.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did. But she can take care of herself. I can’t tell you more.”

“Ever?”

“When the war is over.”

Julien laughed and said, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Lea nodded, but the truth was, Maybe not even then.