A/N: For the sake of clarity, characters speaking in their native language (French, German, etc.), when that language is not English, will have their dialogue italicized. If the dialogue isn't italicized they are either speaking English or I have used phrases from their native language. Hopefully this doesn't end up being more confusing than helpful...
Also I realize that I haven't been posting or updating at all for a long time, so thanks to everyone who has been following my stories for your patience!
PROLOGUE - WARPATH
Vienna, Austria
January, 1936
Helena woke to the slam of her bedroom door flying open. Her mother stood in the threshold, a candle flickering in one hand. She was fully dressed despite the late hour, though her hair was sleep mussed and still folded into the plaited style she wore to bed.
"Mama?"
Without pausing to address her daughter she crossed the room in a few strides, dropping the candle on the nightstand before moving to the ancient wardrobe. She started gathering bundles of clothes into her arms and throwing them into the travel bag Helena kept on the antique chair in the corner of the room. Helena pushed herself onto her elbows, watching her mother pack with the kind of urgency that sent a cold sweat down her back.
"Mama, what's happening?"
"There's no time, darling. Get dressed quickly and come down."
She threw a bundle of clothes at her daughter and yanked the travel bag shut with a jerky, nervous motion. She practically ran from the room, racing down the hallway in the dark and down the stairs without a hitch. Shaken, Helena sat up and pulled her clothes on in a rush. She swiped the abandoned candle from the night stand and followed her mother down to the ground floor.
The grandfather clock in the entrance hall read fifteen minutes past midnight. Beside the front door three travel bags were stacked beside their shoes. Elsewhere in the house, Helena could hear her parents hurrying around; one in the kitchen, the other in the study. Moments later they returned to the entrance hall and a bundle of food and her father's worn leather suitcase were added to the pile by the door. Her father barely paused long enough to pull his coat on before retrieving the suitcase and rushing out toward the garage. Her mother threw her a coat before bundling into her own and picking up two of the travel bags.
"Take these two for me darling."
"But Mama what-"
Her mother shoved the cases into her arms and pushed her out the door. Helena stumbled out into the frigid winter air, felt it nip at her as a breeze blew up her open coat. Behind her the few lights in the house went out and the courtyard was plunged into darkness. She fumbled around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the remaining light as she heard the front door shut with a click behind her. Her mother found her arm in the dark and dragged her forward to the garage and they piled the remaining cases into the truck of the car. The engine roared to life before she had even fully shut her door.
. . . . . . .
They drove through the night, avoiding major routes and stopping periodically for gas. Her parents said nothing, and Helena could only guess from the street signs that they were heading in a general South-Western direction away from Vienna. Helena sat restless in the back seat, peering out into the darkness imagining some terrible monster chasing them through the night. By the time the sun began to rise behind them they had reached a small border town. The sign just outside the city limits proclaimed it proudly as Goriach.
Her father bought a room at a small in, two beds and modest, before venturing out into the village with her mother and leaving strict orders to stay put. Helena agreed without a fight, the sleepless night finally taking its toll on her now she was free from the tension that had filled the car. She sank into one of the beds, falling into sleep almost immediately. She slept only a few hours before she was woken by her mother's return. Helena sat up as she closed the door. Her mother's skin was paler than usual, the blonde hair she normally kept tightly bound spilling around her face in wild, wind ruffled tangles.
"Get up darling, we need to go."
"Where is Papa?"
"There's no time darling, we must go."
She lurched out of bed, vision blurring with tears she had not realized were forming. Vaguely, some part of her mind registered the dust and scrapes littering her mother's form and came to its own conclusion. She reached for their bags, but her mother stopped her.
"Bring the case. We will make do with what we have."
They left the inn without a word and took the car out past the village toward the border. Her mother drove them up the mountain, following the road that wound back forth through the trees until it ended abruptly near the peak of the rise. They abandoned the car, bringing only the case and small bundle of food as they set off on foot to brave the descent into Italy.
. . .
Evians-les-Bains, France
December, 1936
Claire shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her frame with one arm, the other reaching up to hold her hat down securely over the wild mess of her dark hair. Sitting in the wagon beside her father, she almost wished she could be walking, if only for the warmth the exertion would generate. The trip from their small farm into the main town took only a quarter of an hour on foot, almost shorter than it had taken with the wagon as the state of the road made progress slow. But the weather was quickly growing worse, and Claire found herself thankful her father had taken the precaution of the cart, even if their old Clyde had started to struggle somewhat on their journey back.
Another frigid wind whirled through the wagon, creeping cold fingers slipping up her dress and she shivered again. The wagon rumbled over a dip in the road, jostling abruptly, and her father steadied her absentmindedly with one hand. His face was tight with worry and, matched with the greying of his dark hair made him look worn and gaunt. The storm was bad enough that they normally would not have braved the trip, but her mother was ill, and their medicine supply empty. Claire fingered the package in her lap. Just enough medicine to last a few days, if that, but it was all they could afford.
Ahead of them, the road fell into the cover of the trees and the storm eased. Their old draft horse lifted his head, ears pricking forward as he noticed something on the road ahead. His pace faltered, nervous but still willing. He was a wizened old man of a horse, not yet a true senior but old enough to know the ways of the world and understand that the motionless lump on the ground ahead of them was unlikely to cause him any trouble. Still her father drew him to a halt with a concerned glance, passing the reins over to Claire before jumping down and investigating the strange scene.
Claire shifted to watch him around edge of the wagon. He walked carefully, edging closer slowly in case it was some wild animal but switched quickly to alarm when he stood close enough to make out what it was. He rushed forward with a startled shout, struggling to lift whatever it was, and Claire suddenly realized it was a person. A woman, sprawled on her stomach as though she had tripped and fallen and simply stayed put, barely dressed for the weather and obviously half frozen. Her father finally managed to lift her, her limp body hanging in his arms as he rushed back to the wagon and deposited her into one of the piles of hay, fluffing it up around her as though it might keep her warm. Crouching beside her, he beckoned for Claire to get the wagon moving.
"Allez, ma belle, vite."
Claire nodded solemnly, balancing the package in her lap precariously as she took a rein in each hand and urged the horse forward. It took less than a handful of minutes for them to arrive back at the farm. Her brothers, Antione and Pierre, flew out the front door to meet them, their already anxious energy increasing tenfold when they saw what was in the back of the wagon. Her father was quick to rein them in.
"Antoine, take the medicine to your mother and stay with her."
The younger boy, barely ten, almost protested but closed his mouth quickly when his father shot him a stern look. He went to take the medicine from Claire and she gave him a reassuring smile as she smoothed his hair down with both hands. Moments later he disappeared into the house. Pierre, older by only two years, was quicker to understand and quickly set about unhitching the horse without being told. Her father had already bundled their visitor into his arms and was making his way to the house. Claire rushed ahead of him, propping the door as she ran into the house to pull one of the couches in front of the fire and find several blankets.
Her father deposited the woman on the couch, pulling the throw over her as Claire returned to the room with more blankets tucked under one arm and a bundle of warm clothes on the other. Her father nodded at her and turned back to the door, unpropping it and holding it open with one hand as he pushed back into his boots.
"I'm going to go help your brother with the horse. Mind her for me."
Claire nodded, and he disappeared back out the door without a backwards glance. Claire took a deep breath before setting to work. She pulled the throw back and set about peeling away the layers of damp clothing, replacing them with her own warmer clothes. She found a parcel tucked against the woman's skin, dozens of papers rolled into one another and kept against her skin beneath her thin blouse. Confused, Claire set these aside for another time. As she worked, Claire took in their guest, ringlets of blonde hair framing her pale face. She was thin and frail, and Claire realized she could not be much older than herself; not a woman but a girl of barely sixteen. When she was changed she threw the throw back over her along with a handful of thicker quilts, before maneuvering into the kitchen to boil a kettle and retrieve a rag. She was pouring the hot water into cups, setting the rest aside to cool to a slightly less harmful temperature, when Antoine appeared in the doorway. His gaze flickered to the living room, nervous and confused. Claire beckoned him over with a smile and he crept into the kitchen looking upset.
"What's happening?"
Claire sighed. "Nothing bad, I promise. We found her on the road and she needed help." She slung and arm around his shoulder in a half-hug as he nodded solemnly. "How is mother?"
The boy shrugged. "Sleeping."
"Then you're free to help me with our guest. Come, grab those mugs for me."
. . . . . . .
The stranger slept for days. Claire sat with her, first running a warm towel over her frozen extremities then a cool one when the shivering developed into a full-fledged fever. She drizzled water and lukewarm soup broth into her mouth to keep her hydrated and fed. The fire was kept burning constantly, her brothers taking turns running out behind the barn to fetch wood and tend their mother, while the other helped their father with the farm work. On the fourth day, the girl woke in the early morning.
Claire, returning from the kitchen with a warm bowl of broth and a cup of water stopped short as the girl on the couch shuffled into a sitting position and looked around the room confused. Claire cleared her throat as she moved into the room, circling widely around the couch to give the girl a moment to register her approach before presenting her with the soup. She looked back and forth between the Claire and the soup a few times looking uneasy.
"C'est pour toi. Ca te fera du bien."
The girl blinked, wide eyed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're saying…"
Claire blinked surprised as she registered the Germanic language. She made a show of offering her the soup again, making slow wide gestures with her hands until the information finally registered, and the girl took the soup with trembling hands. Claire took her seat in the armchair she had pulled to the couch's 'bedside' and watched the girl spoon mouthfuls of food into her mouth as quickly as humanly possible. Claire waited until she was most of the way through the bowl before drawing her attention again.
"Claire. Toi?" She pointed to herself then to her guest, hoping she would understand.
"H-Helena."
Thinking back to her old schoolmaster's attempts at teaching her English, she summoned what little she remembered in the hopes the girl knew some as well. "Do you speak English?"
Helena frowned, the other girl's accent was thick and warped the words into strange inflections, but she recognized the language enough to respond. Her father had ensured she was educated in at least one other language, and she thanked him quietly in her mind that it had been one this stranger knew. She nodded around her food as an answer. Both girls sighed in relief, before bursting into muffled giggles at each other. Helena drained the last of the soup from the bowl, and Claire offered her the cup of water in exchange for the empty bowl. When both were finished she stood and set them back on the counter in the kitchen, returning to the living room to find Helena tentatively walking around the living room.
"We have bath…" she fumbled for the word, resigning when she could not find it and resorted to pointing at the ceiling, "en haut, if you want?"
Helena smiled and nodded, and the two made their way carefully upstairs. Claire ran the bath, providing more of her own clothing for the girl to wear although they hung a little large on her thin frame and came up short on her longer legs and arms. She made a note to ask her mother for some of hers, hoping they would fit better. When everything was sorted she left Helena to her own devices and returned downstairs. Her father, who had been out feeding the animals when Helena woke, had returned and was pulling his boots off in the entrance hall when she came down. He pointed with his chin as he struggled with his jacket.
"She's awake then?"
Claire nodded and explained about the language barrier. "Where do you think she's from that she ended up here like that?"
"Most likely she came from Switzerland or Austria. But what she's doing here I could hardly say. There's been some talk of unrest out that way."
Claire nodded quietly, both moving into the kitchen as her father set about making porridge. They stood in silence as the food cooked, listening to the house slowly waking above them. Claire could hear her brothers moving around their room and, moments later, heard the drain in the bathroom being unplugged as water rushed down the pipes. Her father went to fetch bowls from the cupboards and she moved to the stove to help him ladle six portions into bowls. She looked up as she finished with the last bowl.
"You're not going to send her away are you?"
He held her gaze as he smiled and brushed long, dark hair back from her face with both hands. "She can stay for as long as she needs, if that is what she wants."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and collected half the bowls to place on the table. Claire followed suit, and was about to make her way back upstairs when a racket from the hall above drew both their attention. Moments later, her brothers appeared at the top of the stairs each clasping on of Helena's hands as they pulled the startled looking girl down the stairs to the dinning table. Claire's father shot her a small grin, moving the crowd in the staircase to wake his wife.
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