Pressed against the dug earth, Róża feels a seeping dampness spread across her buttocks, her thighs. The root clippers, stuffed in her pocket, press sharply against her hip bone. Her lips move in Hebrew, the prayers her mother painstakingly taught her.

She strains to see through the branches, to listen for the sound of boots, of dogs. She is desperate to know what’s happening, but she doesn’t dare move. Time stalls. She hears only the hammering of her heart.

Was it possible that the soldiers left the area, satisfied? Róża listens but hears no sound. She thinks of Miri, how they need to get to her. If there is any chance—

Róża untangles an arm and reaches above her, shifting the branches just enough to see out. She extricates herself and tugs on Chana, tries to pull her from the hole. But Chana is dead weight, curled up, crumpled.

“We need to find her. I’m going to cover you and go look for her.”

Róża moves quickly in the direction she thought she heard the shot. Her stomach knots with dread as she traverses the woods, scanning the ground in all directions. The air is damp and misty. The earth sucks at her boots and sticks crackle beneath her weight. Otherwise, it is silent.

She finds Miri facedown in mud, blood mushrooming at the side of her head. Róża drops to her knees. Turning Miri over, Róża finds the trowel she used for digging their hole.

Róża takes hold of Miri’s chilled hand and speaks the kaddish, her voice trembling.

Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba.

B’alma di v’ra chirutei,

v’yamlich malchutei,

b’chayeichon uv’yomeichon

uv’chayei d’chol beit Yisrael …

She sits for a long time before she surveys the ground for digging. She can’t imagine carrying Miri back through the woods, burying her in that hole—the one that didn’t hold her too. She starts on a new hole, sparing Chana the preparation of a burial site.

She cries as she digs, thinking she never had the chance to bury her parents or Natan. And who knows about Shira, how she is really doing at the orphanage?

She cuts at the soil and hurls it in heaps. It gives way as the frozen ground did not the night she set to covering the barn rabbit, its blood mixed with hers and what life, stopped short, had started inside her.

When she hears mud squelching, she turns to see Chana approaching, face contorted, legs buckling. Róża scrambles to her feet and rushes toward her, but Chana passes her by and lands on Miri, head upon her chest.

Róża tears at the collar of her shirt until it rips. Chana stands and makes a rip in her shirt, too, rending the left collar above her heart.