With each yank of thread, Róża’s thoughts dart between her mother and her little girl, between unspeakable sorrow and fear. Her mother is the one who taught Róża to sew. Late afternoons nestled on the plush sitting room sofa, she guided Róża’s small hand with her own thick one, patiently and encouragingly, the faint scent of celeriac upon her breath. Róża remembers bow-tie cookies baking in the kitchen, the rhythmic whoosh-whooshing of a wood plane emanating from her father’s workshop, an orchestra’s recording the constant background.

When would Róża ever sit with Shira like that, in comfort, with abundant food and music, teaching her daughter the things she knows?

Róża pauses in her sewing to reach for the one thing she has of her mother’s: the metal frosting tip, small enough to fit on Róża’s finger like a thimble. She’s kept it in her own pocket since that day in the closet.

Always, her mother tucked raspberry jam or fresh cherries into the center of her cakes, and drew grand, elegant designs with her frosting. As a child, Róża would stare up at the finished cakes in wonder.

“They’re beautiful, Mama.”

Her mother beamed. “There is a saying I believe in, that ‘beauty will save the world.’”

Why hadn’t Róża shared this with Shira? She vows that she will when Shira wakes.

From within the farmhouse, Łukasz squeals. Along the lane, hooves echo in the distance. In the loft, Shira sleeps on, one hand sticking out from the hay, loosely cupped. Róża’s choked breath comes out as a shudder.

Róża wipes her stinging eyes and coaxes the needle into position with continued, painstaking care. She must be precise, tucking the stitches beneath the piping so that they don’t protrude in any way, so that they are hidden. When she finishes, the name sewn into the blanket’s edge is invisible. Nearly.

Henryk comes in next with what looks like a bucket of earth. He pulls out a variety of leaves and roots and explains which are edible, which poisonous.

“Some different things will grow in the deep woods, but you can follow basic rules: Avoid plants that have finely toothed, narrow-pointed leaves like these. You mustn’t eat white berries. The mushrooms that have a slightly green cap are the most dangerous—be careful. Also, do you know anything about tracks?”

“No, I—”

“Others’ tracks and your own—you’ll need to watch for them. Don’t strike the ground with your heel. Step and pull back, so it seems you are traveling in the opposite direction. If your prints are very noticeable, wear socks over your boots. I brought you a few warm things.”

He kisses her tenderly, stopping only when Shira wakes and turns their way.