The forest was silent, save for the crunch of boots on snow and the distant sigh of the wind weaving between the bare trees. The partisans moved in a loose column, weary but calm, each step guided by instinct as much as by memory of the trails they had walked countless times. For once, there was no shouting, no sudden bursts of gunfire echoing through the night, only the rhythmic sound of breathing and the creak of their heavy coats. Lidiya walked near the rear, her scarf pulled tightly around her face. She was only half-aware of the others. Her thoughts wandered, drifting far from the dark woods and the war that swallowed her youth.

She thought of home: the small farmhouse her father had built with his own calloused hands, the laughter of her siblings carrying across the fields, and her mother’s warm voice calling her inside at dusk. For a fleeting moment, she could almost smell her mother's lovely perfume, hear the rustle of the wheat under the summer sun. Her green eyes grew distant. She remembered her little chores, tending to the flowers her mother loved so much, running barefoot to the lake with her sisters. Those memories felt like another lifetime, like fragments of a world that no longer existed.

The war had taken it all. And yet, she clung to those images as if they were treasures, the only proof that she had once been more than a wandering ghost in a land of snow and blood. The column slowed as the partisans adjusted their packs, but Lidiya barely noticed. She had drifted a few paces behind, her steps lagging as her mind replayed the horror she tried so often to push away: the gunfire, the screams, the faces of her family falling one by one. Her stomach twisted, and she pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe. It was in that fragile moment of distraction that the forest betrayed them.

A crack split the silence - not the harmless snap of a twig, but the sharp command of a rifle fired from the dark. Then another. Shouts in German rang out, harsh and sudden, cutting through the trees like knives. They had been moving quietly, their breaths rising in pale, thick clouds, when the night suddenly shattered. The first shot cracked through the trees like lightning, startling birds from their branches. The partisans froze for only a heartbeat, then chaos erupted. Someone screamed for cover, another fired back blindly, the muzzle flash sparking against the darkness.

The calm column dissolved instantly, every man and woman breaking in a different direction, instincts scattering them like frightened animals. Lidiya’s breath caught in her throat. She had been drifting in her thoughts, her guard lowered, and now the world turned upside down. Bullets tore through the branches, snapping twigs and showering snow down around her. She saw one of her comrades fall with a strangled cry, another vanish into the black trees ahead. Panic struck her chest like a hammer.

"Run!" someone shouted, though she could not tell who. She obeyed without thinking. Her legs carried her forward, heavy boots sinking in the snow as she sprinted between the trees. Her scarf slipped loose, her hair whipped across her face, but she didn’t dare stop. The forest became a blur of dark trunks and white ground, gunfire chasing her like thunder. Her lungs burned, the cold slicing her throat, but fear kept her moving.

She tripped over a root, staggered, then pushed herself onward. She expected at any moment to hear her comrades close behind, to see a familiar shape darting through the snow beside her. But when she glanced around, there was nothing. The shouting of Germans faded, though their voices still echoed somewhere far off. The answering fire of her companions grew weaker, swallowed by distance. Soon there was only the sound of her own frantic breathing and the drum of her heart in her ears.

She slowed at last, stumbling into a small clearing where the moonlight spilled onto the snow. She turned in every direction, chest heaving, searching for movement - a friend, an enemy, anything. But the forest stood silent. The shadows pressed close, indifferent, and every tree looked the same. Lidiya’s stomach dropped as the truth settled in. In her rush to escape, she had lost the others.

A harsh voice cut through the silence behind her: "Halt!" Lidiya froze. Slowly, she raised her arms, her breath clouding in the frigid air. A second later she felt the cold press of a rifle barrel against her back, firm and unyielding. The soldier shoved her forward, forcing her to turn. Before her stood a tall man wrapped in a heavy grey overcoat, his face shadowed beneath his helmet.

His expression was stern, his eyes hard, yet they narrowed as he noticed something glinting at her neck. In the confusion of the flight, her scarf had slipped down, and the silver cross had fallen free, dangling over the dark wool of her coat. The German leaned closer. His gloved hand reached out and caught the chain, tugging it upward so the small crucifix gleamed faintly.

"Interesting..." he murmured, his accent thick, his gaze fixed not on her eyes but on the tiny piece of silver. Lidiya pressed her lips together, her chest rising and falling with effort. That cross was more than only a simple belonging - it was her last tie to her mother, to the family she had lost.

"It is not yours," she whispered. "It belongs to God." For a second the German did not move. The cross dangled from his gloved hand, catching what little light the moon offered. Her words hung in the air between them, simple and unshaken. His jaw tightened. An insult, small yet daring, from a girl who should have been begging for her life.

"You stupid, insolent girl." The rifle pressed even harder into her ribs as he glared down at her. His pride bristled at her defiance, her refusal to cower. To him she was nothing but a captured partisan - a subhuman, ragged and trembling. Yet she dared to throw God in his face, as if He would shield her from his bullets.