Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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Hey gang! I just wanted to drop in on this Monday afternoon and give ya'll a little mini update! This scene doesn't really fit in with the next chapter I'll be writing (I'm starting on it currently (: ) so I decided to just drop it as a stand alone chap! Let me know what you think! I LOVE reading your comments as you read through a chapter! Much love <3
Reyna stepped out of the barracks, the shoes Liza had sent with her in tow as she made her way back across the courtyard. The clouds overhead had disappeared, taking some of the chill from the air with them. The warm glow of sunlight now stood in their place, the bright rays reflecting off the little pockets of snow that had gone unmelted in the shade of perpetual cloud cover. It wouldn't be long before those too, were melted away, giving way to spring entirely.
Liza's words swirled in her head as she walked. "The Stubaf seems to care for you quite a bit ... It's okay for you to be happy ... It's okay if the Stubaf is what gives you that happiness." She shook her head, trying to take her thoughts captive. Liza didn't know what she was talking about. Phillip cared for her, sure. But romantically? She snorted at the idea. They just enjoyed spending time with one another. They were friends - that was all.
"Where have you been off to?" A voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up, her eyes falling on Luca. His hands were crusted with dirt, and his pants were stained with mud, having undoubtably spent his morning doing some kind of manual labor.
"Just fetching a new pair of shoes from Liza," She held them up. "Mrs. Aberman was insistent that these will no longer do," She added, gesturing to the pair on her feet.
"I could've gone with you," He said, attempting to wipe his hands clean on the front of his shirt.
"It was just a quick trip," She shrugged, falling into step beside him as they made their way back to the house.
"Still," He pressed.
"Luca, I think I can make it across the courtyard unaccompanied," She arched an eyebrow at him. "You don't have to babysit me everywhere I go."
"I'm not," He shot back in mock defense.
"Oh really?" Her brows arched further. "Any time I've so much as stepped out of that house the past two weeks, you've magically appeared to take me wherever it is I'm going."
"Don't be ridiculous," He snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Last week?" She countered. "When I was helping you mend that fence? You wouldn't even let me out of your sight long enough to go fetch more supplies."
"I wanted to make sure you got the right thing," He gave a nonchalant shrug.
"It was planks of wood ... how could I get the wrong thing?" She argued. "And what about the week before that? When Mrs. Aberman sent me to the kitchen for more eggs? You insisted on tagging along."
"The weather was nice," He shrugged again, his lips twisting into a smirk.
"It was raining." She cut in front of him, stopping them both in their tracks as she turned to face him, her playfulness in her tone giving way to a serious one now. "Has the Stubaf put you up to this?" Why else would Luca be so insistent on staying close by? He certainly had more important things to do than act as her shadow.
"What?" His brow furrowed, and she swore it was hurt that flashed in his eyes. "No," He shook his head, the look disappearing as quickly as it had come.
"You don't have to protect me," She pressed on, though her steely tone faltered
"I just-" He cut himself off, as if he had been about to say something, but thought better of it. "I know," He said instead.
"Thank you," She smiled, grasping his hand, and giving it a squeeze. "For being such a good friend."
"Of course," He smiled back, but there was a far off look in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. She shook it off, and turned on her heel.
"Come on," She said, releasing his hand. "Mrs. Aberman needs help in the kitchen, and I'm not chopping vegatables alone."
"So now you want me to tag along?" The sarcastic lilt of his voice, and smirk on his lips had returned.
"When Mrs. Aberman's iron fist is concerned, you can absolutely tag along," She tossed her hair over her shoulder, throwing a cheeky grin his way.
