The night air was cold, biting at their skin as the group slipped out of the barn and into the darkness of the surrounding countryside. The distant sound of a dog barking broke the silence, a reminder that the village was still alive, still unaware of the danger creeping closer. Élodie felt her heartbeat in her throat, each step a delicate balance between fear and resolve.
Henri led the way, his pace steady despite the tension hanging heavy in the air. Luc and Sophie were close behind, their eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any signs of movement. Élodie lingered near the back, her mind swirling with the new information they had received. The Gestapo were moving in on Saint-Céleste—on her village—and she had no doubt the raid would be as brutal as it was swift.
The path ahead seemed endless, and Élodie couldn't shake the weight of her past from her shoulders. Saint-Céleste had always been a quiet place, a place where life had moved at its own pace. Now, it was a powder keg waiting to explode. She thought of her father, of the way he used to talk about the old days—the days before the war when everything had felt safer. Could they still call Saint-Céleste home? Would there even be a home left to return to?
"Élodie," Luc's voice cut through her thoughts, low and concerned. "Are you alright?"
She looked up, meeting his gaze, and gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press. Instead, he fell into step beside her, his expression hardening. "We'll be alright. We've got a plan. We'll get through this."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe him. She had to. But the storm that was coming felt impossible to outrun.
They made their way through the dense forest, moving quickly but cautiously. The moon had fully disappeared behind the clouds, leaving them in near-total darkness. Henri's voice cut through the silence. "We're close. Just a little further."
The clearing ahead seemed almost surreal, the shadows of the trees stretching long and thin, like they were watching them. Élodie's stomach turned. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, that they were walking into a trap. Her hand reached for the small pistol tucked into her jacket, her fingers brushing the cool metal for reassurance.
As they reached the edge of the forest, Henri stopped, signaling for them to crouch low. "Stay here. I'll check the area first."
Élodie nodded, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that was growing in her chest. The others waited in silence, the tension palpable. For a moment, the world felt suspended—suspended between what they knew and what they feared.
Henri disappeared into the darkness, moving with the precision of someone who had spent far too many nights on edge. The minutes stretched on, each one heavier than the last. Élodie kept her eyes trained on the trees, waiting for some sign of Henri's return.
Suddenly, the sound of a twig snapping echoed through the air, and she froze. Her breath caught in her throat as the sound of boots crunching on the gravel path reached her ears.
"Gestapo," Luc hissed under his breath. His hand moved to his gun.
Élodie's pulse raced. They had been too close, too careless. She was about to turn toward Henri when she saw him reappear from the shadows, his eyes wide, signaling for them to move.
Without a word, they took off in the opposite direction, running through the underbrush, hearts pounding. Élodie's breath was ragged, her muscles screaming as she pushed herself faster, her mind racing. She couldn't let them be caught. Not now.
The Gestapo patrol was close behind, their voices growing louder, their footsteps quickening as they followed. The forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows growing darker, more oppressive with each step.
Then, just as Élodie thought they might be caught, Henri gave a sharp whistle. In response, a shadow appeared in front of them—a figure emerging from the darkness, blocking their path. It was a young man, barely older than Élodie, with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a grim look on his face.
"This way," he whispered urgently, leading them through a narrow, hidden path between the trees.
They followed him without hesitation, trusting him implicitly. The path was treacherous, barely wide enough for them to move single file. Élodie's heart raced as she glanced back, half-expecting to see the Gestapo closing in. But there was nothing. Only the dark, silent forest.
The young man led them to a small cave nestled in the side of the mountain. The entrance was concealed by thick vines and undergrowth, making it almost impossible to spot unless you knew exactly where to look.
Henri gestured for them to enter. "We'll rest here for now."
Inside, the cave was cold, damp, and filled with the scent of earth. A few soldiers had already made camp in the back, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light. But the young man quickly introduced them to the others.
"This is Julien," Henri said. "He's one of our scouts. He's been keeping an eye on the Gestapo movements in the area."
Julien gave them a brief nod before turning to the others. "We've been hearing whispers of a large-scale operation coming through the region. We need to move quickly. They'll be looking for us."
Élodie's mind was racing. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing in on her. The war was closing in on all sides, and no matter how much they tried to fight it, it felt like they were always a step behind.
But she couldn't afford to give up now.
Not when there was still a chance.