Tulips in Her Hand

Chapter Four

When the glaring sun would dissipate into the haunting glow of moonlight, Celina would lead the two escapees towards a perch on a looming hill. Mariusz would somehow mystically create a fire, as if it erupted from his hands.

On their third and final night in the wilderness, at least, Celina nestled into the comfort of the grasses and gazed at the view before her. City lights floated like lanterns, as mystical as the fire cooking the few remaining provisions left in the knapsack. The entire landscape seemed a greenish blue, as if it were inside a tinted photograph.

"We should arrive in Łódź fairly quickly tomorrow," Mariusz whispered, drawing near Celina and a great deal further from Anka and the fire.

"Fantastic. Then we can get caught and shot in front of everyone," she murmured, resting her cheek in the whispering grasses. Anka seemingly studied them, her reserved eyes blinking peacefully in the moonlight.

"Why?" It was barely a whisper, hardly reaching Celina's ears.

"Why what?"

"I thought it bothered you," Mariusz said, his legs drawn up towards his chest, "on the train, remember? So why did you decide to help us?"

Fireflies flitted above her head, flicking on, then off, nearly blending in with the millions of stars. Sighing, as if her lungs were trying to release the ton of pressure compressing her chest, Celina said, "I told you, remember? I want to find my father. I didn't know it was you until it was too late."

Mariusz paused, tension hanging frozen in the air. "You don't even know us."

Celina subtly shook her head, turning away from the man gazing at the millions of glowing freckles in the dusk sky. She shifted her focus towards Anka. Her painting was the purest of white, blots of black occasionally tainting its surface. Lilac daffodils and ribbons of pink were formed at the bottom, abstract, yet clear. Every step, every move of her hand, all of it was timid, almost hesitant, as if something awful might occur if she were bold.

"Can you just tell me if you know anything about my father?" she whispered, fingering the silken grass.

She felt his warm breath on her neck. "Would you leave us if we did?" With that, she felt the grass rustle, then the vibration of footsteps slowly deteriorating.

His words still stinging her ears, Celina buried her face further into the earth, allowing its coolness to seep into her cheeks. The thought of entering another big city frightened her more than she cared to admit.

Why me? she thought. Why me of all people? I'm not brave enough to handle the city, to handle soldiers constantly watching me, constantly questioning me.

The first question they ask, I'll have to answer the truth.

❋ ❋ ❋  

The sun glaring at their backs, the trio made their way through dense grassland, the looming buildings of the city drawing nearer. Celina made an effort to remain in the front, the leader of a wolf pack. Anka trotted beside Mariusz, merely a few feet behind Celina. Her hair was still a tangled mess of wispy threads, however Mariusz had splashed cool water from a crystal clear brook to cleanse her cheeks. Both escapees were now clad in modest, yet well-kept clothing they had brought along.

A sparkling laugh escaped Anka's chapped lips. Craning her neck, Celina saw her giggling and cheerfully chasing butterflies that flitted about. Her brother wore a slight smile, mostly present in his eyes. Celina sighed, the scene reminding her of something out of a storybook. A twinge of reminiscence ate at her gut, reminding her of pleasant days giggling and chasing butterfiles with her father.