"What was that?" Susan's voice was a brittle whisper, laced with fright, shattering the stillness of the forest.
"Probably just an animal—" My words died in my throat as a figure, more shadow than substance, burst from the dense canopy of trees. A shared scream tore from our lungs, sharp and immediate, a raw sound of terror. But then, the figure scooped up a fallen branch, gripping it like a crude club, and barked, "Be quiet! You'll get us caught if you scream like that."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in my ears, but I forced myself to step forward, shielding Susan slightly. "Who are you and what do you want?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my desperate effort to sound brave.
A boy, a few inches taller than me, emerged fully from the rustling bushes. He had a shock of dark, wavy hair and fierce, dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce one's very soul. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the boy's lips. "I'm Ludwig Ni Vladimir, but you can call me Lude."
"Okay," I said, still wary, my grip tightening on Susan's arm. "But you still didn't answer why you're here."
His expression darkened, the fleeting smile vanishing. "Well, why are you here?" he retorted, turning my question into his own, his gaze scrutinizing us. A cold suspicion began to prickle at me, an icy tendril of unease coiling in my stomach.
"Don't be unfair. We asked you first. What's the harm in telling us?" I snatched up a sturdy stick from the ground, pointing it at him like a makeshift weapon, though my hand still trembled slightly.
Lude sighed, a sound heavy with impatience, his gaze flickering nervously around the surrounding woods. "Are you a Jew?"
My breath hitched, caught in my throat. The air suddenly felt thin, suffocating. Should I lie or tell the truth? It wasn't just my own safety I was protecting; Susan's life was in my hands too.
I looked toward Susan, our eyes locking for a fleeting moment. "Run," I whispered, a desperate plea, barely audible above the pounding in my chest. We didn't hesitate. We spun on our heels and ran, our little legs pumping like pistons, fueled by a surge of pure adrenaline. The wind whipped through our hair, a frantic whisper urging us onward.
We ran until our lungs burned with an agonizing fire and the trees blurred into a green, indistinguishable streak. "Wait!" the boy's voice echoed behind us, a desperate cry carried on the wind.
This boy was brewing with bad news, a storm cloud on the horizon, and I wasn't going to "wait" for it. His shouts, far from slowing us, only fueled my legs to run even faster, each stride a defiant rejection of whatever danger he represented.