"Please, can't you say something?" I pleaded.
I could tell by his eyes that he was smiling under the scarf. I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest.
"You're no fun."
He allowed a chuckle to escape from his mouth. That was all I really wanted to hear; I was tired of being answered by silence.
He didn't want me walking; he was still carrying me. It had been two full days since he had rescued me. My patience was wearing thin; I wanted him to speak to me.
"I'll tell you anything you want if you say something."
He laughed again, and then he seemed to consider my offer. He cleared his throat. My plan actually seemed to work.
"Why do you insist I speak?"
I beamed at him. "I wanted to hear your voice. I was tired of getting answered by silence. I was lonely."
"You're persistent, I'll give you that." He stopped and looked up at the sky.
"Why do you wear that scarf?" I asked after a moment.
"My own protection," he answered. "I have many enemies."
I nodded. After a minute of silence, I had to ask another question.
"What are you going to do with me?" I asked.
"I'm not going to kill you."
He was German, but his accent was not as strong as that of the two men he had saved me from. He placed me on the ground next to a log, taking his coat off and putting it on my shoulders. Turning away, he left to get wood for a fire.
After ten minutes or so, he returned with a pile of wood. I helped him set it up, and he lit it. He sat close to me.
"Why are you here in Germany?" he asked after a moment.
"To avenge my family."
He looked at me, surprised. "Is this why Adolf and Karl kidnapped you?"
I shrugged. "Damned if I know. I went to bed in a farmer's house and woke up in that warehouse."
"It was a camp," he interrupted. "Nowhere near as bad as Dachau or Auschwitz, but bad nonetheless." he sighed.
"Will you tell me your name?" I asked, trying to break the tension quickly.
His eyes met mine. "My name?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we've been traveling together for almost three days and I still don't know your name."
"I don't know yours," he pointed out with a smile. "I'm Hans Landa."
"Well I'm Elizabeth Cohen, oldest daughter of the late Rachel and Jacob Cohen and sister of the late Hannah, Rivka, and Gabriel Cohen." I smiled.
His smile faded. "Your entire family?"
I nodded. "I was the lucky one. I wasn't home, and I was out of the country at the time." I looked at the fire. "I snuck into their camp when I returned so I could see them once more..." I swallowed hard. "I had told them vacationing was a bad idea. I suggested England — but my father insisted Germany was worth it." I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to cry. "I know who killed them. I don't know his name, but he was a colonel in the SS. I'll know it's him when I find a man with a swastika carved in his forehead." I clenched my fists. "I promise to kill him once I find out his name. Damn, I wish I could find him." When I finished my rant I burst in to tears.
He put an arm around me, lightly patting my back. "There, there, Elizabeth, don't cry." He hushed me, and I rested my head on his shoulder. "There's no need for tears."
I looked up at him. "Hans, you have no idea. I've lost everything. I've spent every last penny trying to find the bastard who killed my family. I have nowhere to go, no one to help..."
He made me look at him, and he wiped away my tears. "Elizabeth, want you to know that I'm here to help. I want you to be aware that you'll always be welcome to stay with me."
I smiled weakly. "Thank you," I replied quietly. I looked down at his hand, which was on my leg. "I'm sorry to drop this on you. I barely know you, but I'm venting to you anyways. You actually bothered to listen."
He squeezed my leg. "Don't apologize for it. I understand what pain you're going through. I would have done the same if I were in your place."
I closed my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. As I started to doze off, I felt him stroke my hair. He started to hum, and after a moment of humming, he started to sing something in German. My mind shut down listening to him sing.