They walked and climbed and walked; it felt like they were traveling for miles, but would never get anywhere. She didn't want to question her husband's navigational skills, but she was afraid they were lost. Even though they hadn't been able to drive for as far as they wanted to toward Switzerland, she still felt that they had been traveling by foot for entirely too long.

All of them had to be extremely malnourished by that point. Their eyes looked sunken in, and she desperately worried about the smaller children. They needed food and shelter, the two bare minimum necessities she would have given anything to be able to provide to them. Instead, they simply pushed onward without complaint. She marveled at how disciplined they all were.

"Georg, I want to ask something that I think will upset you." She pulled him to the side when they stopped to rest, having finally decided she needed an answer. She made certain the children were out of earshot before she spoke again. "Are we...lost?"

"You're joking." He brushed her off, chuckling as if it were the silliest question she could have asked.

"Not at all. We've been walking for too long. The children are starving and exhausted. I'm afraid they can't take much more of this."

"I've not heard any complaints."

"You specifically ordered them not to complain."

"Maria, please. Trust me." She placed her hands upon her hips and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose her temper, but her fuse was very short due to the present circumstances.

"It would be easier to trust you if we weren't lost."

"We are not lost." His words were punctuated with his own frustration, as he was obviously just as exhausted as the rest of them.

"Then how much longer?" She crossed her arms, defiantly.

"A couple days, at most."

"You're lying. You have no idea where we are." He grabbed her elbow roughly, pulling her further away from the children.

"Maria, if we were lost, letting the children know that would be unwise."

"So we are, then?"

"No."

"Georg..."

"No. Stop this, now." His words were authoritative, and she felt enraged. She couldn't explain where exactly the rage came from, but she was ready to take it out on him without another thought.

"Are you ordering me not to complain too? Like a child?"

"You're beginning to act like one." She shoved his hand from her arm, breaking their contact. He met her eyes angrily, warning her to stop.

"Well I'm glad you've got it all figured out then, fearless leader. Excuse me while I go stand with my peers." She began to walk toward the children, and he grabbed her wrist. She gasped in pain, and he pulled away quickly. They both looked to the dark purple, bruised skin of her wrist, and they were reminded of the incident that caused the bruising.

"I'm sorry, darling."

"I'm fine." She didn't meet his eyes, focusing on a patch of clover at her feet.

"I don't think you are." She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she met his. Her words sounded venomous.

"I have no choice right now. What do you expect me to do?" He sighed, knowing she was right not to try sorting out her mind while they were still in the mountains. He had seen many men in war who had gone through traumatic events, and they all did the same thing: pushing it to the back until the time and place were more appropriate. It wasn't healthy, but her unselfish nature pushed her to continue on.

"We're going to find a town soon. When we do, you need to talk about it." She didn't want to cry, but her eyes began to brim with tears. She shook her head, crossing her arms once more.

"Let's focus on finding our way then." She walked away, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. She still did not believe they weren't lost.