Chapter 7

The village was made up of mostly of small, crumbling, mossy stone houses. Cottages, if you will. They blended in very well out here. Unusually, there was no church, not even a place of worship of a common graveyard.

Even from here, I could tell that the villagers wore extremely dirty clothes, and yet didn't seem to care. Many were stopping to chat with the other on the open streets, if that's what you would them, and some were humming whilst they worked. It seemed friendly enough, as there was not one soldier in sight. It was lucky Kurt had seen it, as we probably would've walked right past.

"Stay alert, children," mother whispered to us, bending down to our level.

"Friedrich, come with me. The rest of you, stay here," father squeezed little Gretl's hand, then beckoned Friedrich to come with him.

He stopped a man on the street, who dropped the heavy looking sack on the ground and politely shook his hand. He was very scruffy, which I could tell annoyed father much, as he still wanted a little bit of discipline. The man's beard was all tangled and knotty, going grey at the tips, exposing that he was a lot older than mother or father.

"He seems nice enough," I mumbled to myself.

For a while, all father did was talk. Friedrich was stood, a little awkwardly, beside him. A few times, father gestured to us, and the man would look our way, then turn back to the conversation. A lot of my siblings had lost interest and were silently drawing pictures in the dirt with their bare fingers. Mother had sat down, cradling Gretl in her arms, watching the sky calmly.

A small white butterfly fluttered past me, rhythmically beating its delicate wings. My eyes followed it as it flew past my distracted sisters and brother, before I felt my feet dragging towards it. The small bug didn't seem petrified by my sudden approach, and instead landed on an overhanging frond of green grass. For something so simple, so plain and so little, it seemed to be coping well out here on its own.

"Children!" I heard father call softly, and I turned around.

It hadn't occurred to me at the time, but I had apparently wandered quite far from the group. The little butterfly flapped its wings once more, before I slowly, and tiredly, walked back towards mother and father.

"Kind sir, how can we ever thank you?" mother asked, shaking the man's hand once again.

"No need to. I'm sorry it's a tad bit small, but we don't have enough room in our quaint, tiny home for all nine of you," he replied, his voice a bit gruff, like he was just recovering from a cold.

It looked like a barn, a bit run down, but warm and cosy. I haven't felt this much safety since we left our house. Oh, how I wanted to glance out of the window and see the lake again. The only thing I really regret is the fact that I didn't spend enough time out there, playing the grass and swimming in the lake. And I think father regrets ever treating us like sailors, as we never got to experience life until a year ago.

"I usually bring in the sheep quite late, and they tend to take up most of the barn. There is a little hanger up there, where I store all the extra hay. It should be big enough for you all," the man explained, about to leave.

"Oh, and I shall introduce my family to you all. My children have never met someone from outside this village, so they'll be very excited," he added, winking gently at Marta, making her laugh, before he left.

"I'm not sure we'll be able to stay here more than two days. We'll be putting this dear little place in great danger if we did," I heard father whisper to mother.

"Should we tell the man?" she asked. Father shook his head.

"No, don't want his family or him worrying. Plus, we don't know these people. I know, I know, he seems very friendly and I am grateful to him, but there might be a very unpleasant man in this village who wants to see us… in a certain place," he lowered his voice even more at this.

What is this 'certain place' he's talking about? Will we go to prison? Surely there's nothing worse than prison? Surely not… no… that's impossible. Please… may it impossible…