The cool night air wrapped around Élodie like a damp cloak as they moved silently through the darkened fields of Saint-Céleste. The village was quiet, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant chirp of crickets. The path before them was nothing more than a narrow trail that wound its way through the underbrush, hidden by shadows. It was the only route left to them, the only way to escape the tightening grip of the Gestapo.
Vincent, though still weak, had insisted on walking, his pride and his need to contribute outweighing the fever that still clung to his body. He leaned heavily on Élodie as they moved, his breath ragged and shallow, but his gaze was steady, determined. Luc led the way, his steps sure, his eyes scanning the darkness ahead for any sign of danger. Behind them, Simone and Sophie kept watch, alert and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
Élodie glanced back at the cottage, its silhouette barely visible in the distance. It felt like a lifetime ago that they had been there, safe within its walls. Now, every step they took carried them further into the unknown, further away from the life they had once known. The war had stripped them of so much—freedom, safety, the comfort of knowing who their allies were. But it had also forged something in them, something far stronger than fear or despair: a sense of survival, of defiance.
"How much farther?" Vincent's voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to pull Élodie from her thoughts.
"Not far," she replied softly, her hand tightening on his arm to steady him. "Just stay with me. We'll be there soon."
They had to move quickly. The moon was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape, and every rustle of the wind sent a chill through Élodie's spine. The Gestapo was never far, and each passing moment felt like a ticking clock. But even as the danger pressed in, there was a strange kind of comfort in the rhythm of their steps. It was the only thing they could control.
Luc stopped suddenly, his hand raised in a silent gesture for them to halt. The others froze, their bodies taut with readiness. Élodie held her breath, listening for any sign of movement.
"Did you hear that?" Luc's voice was low, his words barely more than a murmur, but there was no mistaking the tension in his tone.
Élodie's heart began to race, and she strained her ears to listen. It was a moment before she caught it—the faint sound of boots crunching the gravel of the road ahead.
"Gestapo patrol," Sophie breathed, her voice barely audible.
Élodie's pulse quickened. They were too close. There was no way to avoid them now. She exchanged a quick glance with Luc, who seemed to weigh the situation in his mind before making a decision.
"Move off the path," he ordered quietly, his voice steady but filled with urgency. "Into the trees. Stay low."
Without hesitation, Élodie helped Vincent stumble off the trail, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of his body against hers, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. They hurried into the dense undergrowth, the sharp scent of pine and earth filling her senses. The others followed, each step muffled by the soft ground beneath their feet.
They crouched low behind a cluster of thick bushes, the darkness swallowing them whole. Élodie could hear the sound of the patrol growing closer now, the clink of weapons and the murmured commands of the soldiers reaching her ears. The world outside their hiding place seemed to vanish as Élodie held her breath, her entire being focused on the faintest sound that might give them away.
The patrol passed by, their boots thudding against the earth with an unrelenting rhythm, but they never paused. Élodie counted the steps in her mind, the beat of each soldier's footfall drumming in her chest. And then, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of the patrol faded into the distance, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.
Élodie exhaled sharply, the tension in her body releasing. But there was no time to relax. They couldn't afford to let their guard down for even a moment.
"That was too close," Luc whispered, his voice tight with frustration. "We need to keep moving."
They continued on, though the pace had slowed, and their movements were more deliberate now, each step weighed with the knowledge that danger was never far behind.
As they neared the edge of the forest, Élodie could see the faint outline of the next safe house in the distance, nestled against the base of a rocky hill. Her heart surged with a mix of relief and anxiety. They were close—so close—but would they make it? The road ahead was still fraught with peril.
And then, as they reached the clearing, the distant crack of a rifle shot split the air.