The moon hung low in the sky, casting pale light through the small window of Simone's cottage. Outside, the night was eerily still, save for the occasional rustling of wind in the trees. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on Élodie as she sat beside Vincent's cot, her eyes never leaving his pale face. His fever had broken, but the darkness of unconsciousness still held him captive.
She had done everything she could—everything Simone had asked of her—but the nagging feeling that time was slipping away gnawed at her. Every hour that passed felt like a gift, but also a curse, as it meant more time spent hiding, waiting, and hoping.
Sophie was beside the hearth, her back to the fire. Her face was shadowed, but Élodie could see the tension in her posture, the way she clenched her hands. Luc, ever the protector, paced the small room in quiet circles. His brow furrowed, his movements filled with the urgency of a man who had no intention of staying in one place for too long.
"We need to move," Luc finally broke the silence, his voice rough with fatigue. "We can't afford to stay here for much longer. The Gestapo will be on us before dawn if we don't leave."
Élodie's heart tightened at the thought of moving Vincent, but she knew Luc was right. The longer they stayed in one place, the greater the risk. And the weight of that risk was heavy on her chest.
"Vincent needs rest. He's not ready," Élodie protested softly, her voice carrying the raw edges of a woman torn between duty and her own fear. She was exhausted, her bones aching from the strain of the past days, but her loyalty to Vincent remained unwavering.
Simone, who had been quietly preparing a small bundle of herbs for Vincent, looked up at her with a knowing gaze. "He won't be able to travel for much longer. You can stay here, wait it out, but sooner or later, the enemy will come."
The words hung in the air like a weight, and Élodie swallowed hard, the bitter taste of truth settling in her mouth. There was no more time for waiting.
Sophie stood and crossed the room to Élodie's side, her hands gently resting on her shoulders. "We'll get him to the next safe house. You know we have no other choice, Élodie. He can't stay here. We'll move him carefully, and if we take turns, we'll make it."
Élodie nodded, her heart heavy but resolute. She had known this moment would come. It was just a matter of when.
Luc, still pacing, halted suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "The Germans have patrols closer to the village than we anticipated. I went out earlier today to scout, and there were more soldiers than I thought. We'll need to take a different route. It's too risky to move through the main roads."
The realization hit Élodie like a jolt of cold water. "We'll need to cross the fields and into the woods. It's the only way."
Sophie looked at Élodie, her eyes narrowing. "It's dangerous. We could be seen from the ridge. We'll have to move at night, and if the soldiers are patrolling…"
Luc's voice was steady but firm, cutting through the rising tension. "We move at night. We'll stick to the shadows. It's our best chance."
Élodie turned her gaze back to Vincent, who still lay motionless, but there was a faint flutter beneath his eyelids. Her breath caught in her throat. Could he hear them? Could he sense the danger they were all facing?
She bent down closer to him, her voice barely a whisper. "Vincent... we need you with us. Stay with us."
For a moment, there was nothing but the heavy silence of the room. And then, just as Élodie's thoughts began to wander into a sea of doubts, Vincent's fingers twitched ever so slightly. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she leaned closer.
"Vincent?" Her voice cracked, uncertainty creeping in.
His eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused at first, but then, as if recognizing her, they sharpened. His breath was shallow, ragged, but his lips parted, forming words that barely registered in the stillness.
"Élodie..." he rasped, his voice raw and weak.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, forcing herself to stay composed. "I'm here, Vincent. You're safe."
His hand reached out weakly, brushing against hers. His grip was faint but enough to send a jolt of hope through her. "We… we have to keep moving…" His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes again, his body fighting to stay awake.
Sophie stepped closer, her expression softening at the sight of Vincent's fragile state. "He's strong. He'll pull through."
Élodie nodded, her chest tight with emotion. "We can't stop now. He's awake. He knows. We need to get him out of here before it's too late."
Luc stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room, his face set with determination. "We leave now. Simone, can you help us move him?"
Simone, who had been watching silently, nodded with a solemn expression. "I'll help him walk if it comes to that. But you must be careful. The path is treacherous, and the soldiers are unpredictable."
As they prepared to leave, Élodie felt the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders. There was no turning back now. The danger was real, but so was their hope. They would make it to the next safe house, and Vincent would recover—he had to.
And yet, as the night deepened and the shadows grew longer, Élodie couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else at play. A storm was coming, one far worse than they had ever faced. And the only thing they could do was keep moving forward, one step at a time.
As they exited Simone's house, the air was thick with tension. Élodie's heart raced, but she refused to falter. They had made it this far. And they would not stop now.