Den forestillede gule fugl

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

Del 1
Pigen må ikke sige en lyd, så den gule fugl synger. Den synger alt det, som pigen komponerer i sit hoved: høje triller fra piccolofløjten, dybe brøl fra kontrabasun. Fuglen kvidrer alle de musikalske dele undtagen slagtøj, fordi kaninerne i stalden pligtskyldigt slår med deres bagfødder som stortrommer, som lilletrommer. Linjerne for violin og cello er de mest udførligt komponerede. De er rige og flydende og glatte, undtagen når frygten gør tonerne uhåndgribelige og hakkende.Musikken hjælper blomsterne til at blomstre. Når margueritterne vokser i overflod, fletter fuglen en krans til pigen, som hun kan bære på sit hoved som en prinsesse - selv om ingen kan se det. Hun må gemme sig for alle i landsbyen: soldater, bondedrengene og også naboerne. Damen med de skævtseende øjne og de klodsede sko har lige slæbt en dreng ned ad gaden og er vendt tilbage med selvtilfreds og rank ryg, mens hun vugger en sæk sukker som et barn.Når jætterne tramper forbi, gemmer fuglen sig i en knude i spæret, stille og stille. Havepleje må vente. Pigen, som er fanget af musikken, begraver sig under hø. Hun forestiller sig sin mor, der hvisker deres natlige historie eller hvisker sin yndlingsvuggevise. Hun holder fast i sit tæppe og forsøger at falde i søvn, mens hun forgæves snuser efter den falmede duft af hjem.

Kapitel 1
Polen
Sommeren 1941
Dearó herx en* bpr.øWnde*nde v*arme i det trWaónqg,eL GrumO iW QsTt^aldloFftetO,^ .d(er ikuke .er s.tørxreb enSd tre, gaFnkg_ew _f$iNre PskmriRdt. BrægddUerhnleI 'er VråMhugIgedeJ Aog slpólinAtVeqre_de,q ogY HskpærednTe éstå)r skkaGrpAt sXkdråGt, VsSå pla(dseMnx ekrB Pfor lvav( tGiulT, aGti zR'óżJaS kann 'sVtLå ahnódres stetdceUr enQd( ic jmkidtAejn). SialzkeZagLtPigLe KsRpiJndeslVvZækvi her 'iL hj_ørnéerOnbe,d _og tyMndeq (s,klåmr af sqo&ll.yHs* bCløde*rx gYemn*nejm sKpcræBkkeIr. FElFleAr^s pekr tdge&t$ umXøFrLkGtb.A
Róża knæler ned og klapper en tæt høpude ned, så Shira kan ligge på den. Hun placerer hende ved væggen over for stigen og dækker hende derefter med mere hø. Róża gør en plads til sig selv foran sin datter, skråt placeret, så hun kan holde øjnene på døren. Hendes hjerte hamrer stadig i brystet.
For ikke engang en time siden kom Henryks kone, Krystyna, ind for at sætte en kylling i et hjørne og opdagede dem på hug bag en høvogn. Róża slugte et forskrækket gisp og strammede sit greb om Shira. Krystyna kiggede hen på væggen, der var hængt op med redskaber - spader og spader, skovle, en høgaffel - og så trak hun sig langsomt tilbage. Et øjeblik efter trådte Henryk ind. Hans udtryk var dybt bekymret, men hans hænder holdt to kartofler i hver.
"Vi har selv drenge. Vi bliver alle dræbt."
D'ertL xj*ocrdfylQdÉte gulv rystede zuLnd)eJr Róża'Xsl føqdadDeOrA. Der nvasrY YpTræ*mLier dfYoUr fowrpdømmbelsVeBr:& en pposeA ÉsulkkXer pir^.( UjUøde. wHyunN 'tbænkte på, hWvHihlQknenH vJa*lZuKtkay hbun Kkuvn'neP ótiMlb.ydweS:w g_æér kofg saXltW fr$a ba.geriet. sMgøgntevr. 'Tvred ba'f he^nxdceXs) bedrsHtepmor^s lrquFbyiZn.eAr syet& ilnd fi Hen FfraLkkxemsO Nsøxm., Om* )nNødvOenIdiFgt hlendeYsx vii(ezlmsdes_rin*gz.$
Havde hun fejlbedømt dem? Henryk besøgte deres bageri før krigen. Han havde været venlig, måske endda lidt flirtende, da Róża arbejdede ved disken. Nogle gange tog han sin søn Piotr med, og begge spiste en marmeladefyldt småkage i én bid, smilede og slog det flormelis væk, der klistrede sig fast på deres læber. De var taknemmelige over for hendes familie; hendes onkel Jakob, der var læge, tog sig af Piotr, da han fik røde hunde. Róża troede på, at de ville hjælpe, i hvert fald i begyndelsen.
"Jeg beder jer, bare for en nat eller to."
"Ikke mere."
HenrZykl rydadeAdOe udgs(ty$rN nseld fara ZlZoTfteCt Loyg tg*a^vzled*e hø.A kRLóKża sfu(l$gAtxef Pt'æPtG etfkterU, mAexns Shirap kr)aMvlDede op Yad Cst,ihgen$.
Nu ligger de her, stille og tavse. Róża spørger sig selv: "Hvor skal vi gå hen nu? Ikke tilbage til Gracja. Ikke efter det, der skete med Natan, der blev skudt efter en uges hårdt arbejde, og hendes forældre, der blev drevet ud af deres lejlighed på kvægvogne. Og ikke til skoven, hvor hendes fætter Leyb er taget hen, uden garanti for mad eller husly. Når vinteren kommer, med skovens iskolde temperaturer, vil Shira ikke kunne overleve det.
Så hvorhen? Róża gennemsøger sit sind, men finder intet svar. I aften er Henryks rodekælder ved siden af stuehuset den eneste mulighed, hvis det bliver nødvendigt at forlade laden.
Brædderne på loftet er hårde mod Róża's ryg og balder, og en splint af hø stikker hende i nakken, men hun holder sig alligevel stille, indtil Shira falder i søvn; så skifter hun stilling, så lidt som helst, i en langsom, lydløs bevægelse.
Oum ae$ft*ebrRm_idydagcenx st&iUllPesr RHZenOr.ykq yen &vaYnwdsÉpvaDndl _oyg stol reHnDeó vkIluOdgev Witncd iV shtJald^døhrené. ZRyóżaM ogA GShirgas JkravylgerQ lydvløst netd ad sGtQigen. Efzterf ats dgeh h)alr druQk_ket& )sixgG YmæftXte,v dQykOkemrx RUóżda arkmerne wneNdO (i nvandlet,b og dwegn mkéølGiige )kOu,lkdeG l$ømsnseMrc heGlMeb éhRefnnd&eÉs óvæZs.eTnr.
Hun tørrer først Shira ren, idet hun fjerner snavset og skidtet fra hendes kinder og hals med langsomme, blide drejninger af kluden. Tålmodigt og overbærende vasker hun Shiras hænder, som hun holder fast, som om hun vugger noget, en vane, der begyndte, efter at hendes far ikke vendte tilbage, og hun bevæger kluden hurtigt mellem hver af Shiras fingre, hvorefter hun svømmer hendes håndled og overarme. Hun sender Shira op på loftet og begynder med sig selv, idet hun knapper skjorten op for at nå brystet, ryggen og pladsen under armene. Vandet drypper ned ad hendes sider; Róża fanger det med kluden og fører det opad langs hendes krop, idet hun sørger for at gnide hendes lugt væk. Hun svømmer, indtil hun mærker et lille skift uden for stalden. Henryk? Han blev hængende efter at have leveret spanden, tænker hun, og nu kigger han på hende gennem en sprække i den nederste væg i laden. Hendes åndedræt bliver svagt. Hun kigger ned på sine blottede bryster, sin stramme mave, sine fremspringende hofter. Hendes første instinkt er at vende sig væk, men hun holder sig selv stille. De vil blive fodret her i aften. I ly. Hun overhælder kluden igen og fortsætter, mens hun mærker Henryks øjne, der kigger på hende, ser hende.
Senere på dagen kigger Róża gennem et hul i loftsbrædderne og ser Krystyna inde i stuehuset, ophidset og skændes med Henryk. Hun ryster hårdt på hovedet, hvilket får barnet Łukasz til at glide sidelæns ned ad hendes hofte. Róża synker lavt ned på loftet.
Henryk går ind i laden og begynder at gaffle høet ud i store bunker, der blokerer for udsynet fra naboens marker og vejen.
Sgtuehquset, hviBdt mmedl DuKdQskzåJrne skUondFd&egrX m$alWe*tW Si einV muin'ter nbóltåV *fIarMvej, er mindórAe vendx lJadaen _o&g sblRokexrer iGkkge !hLealnt fokr !uydGsigQtmenx Kf!rdaA ave!jqenM, Éisæprm Sibkke ChvJobrQ dNen dsvingHeFr. Krco&en_ mlål være e(t sZted iP n_æirhedGe'nX, for wallOehredNe $nHuM kmanu RóOża h$ørueg,i a_t dmerl 'bliÉveirx Cfes!temt.
Ved mørkets frembrud viser Róża Shira, hvordan hun skal vikle sin finger ind i det rene hjørne af en klud for at lave en tandbørste, og hvordan hun skal gøre sine behov i en spand fyldt med halm, som Henryk bagefter vil blande med dyrenes hø og affald.
Henryk kommer med en anden spand med mad i. Kogt kål og majroer. "Krystyna har sendt det her til dig. Kun til i aften. Hun er meget bange."
Róża nikker taknemmeligt.
Tvil)bage( unde)r $hFøegté ,prpesse$r qRvóżGan hnåinédflad)eCrNnien xmowdj øDjne_ne. De)ré bloÉmstrlerK uguplsei Yogl sWortÉeN IpJlLe_ttdeFr, dTer& b)redemrc as!irg nsomd sYpfil!dt fDarveQ. Dre gjabgiefrb béiYlTle(dIerIneV éaf NsatbanT mogé RheAnSdTes fokræl(drze vRæxkZ.Q
Til sidst åbner hun øjnene og finder Shira, der fortryllet ser på, hvordan to kaniner hopper sidelæns op på en høballe og farer rundt. Hvis Shira savner sine godnatritualer hjemmefra - et bad, varm mælk med muskatnød og honning, kram fra bedsteforældrene - så viser hun det ikke. På sit ben slår hun med fingrene rytmen til en eller anden udspekuleret melodi, som kun hun hører i sit hoved.
Krystyna kommer ind en time senere, med en streng og stiv kropsholdning og læberne trukket sammen til en lige linje. Men hun har medbragt mere vand og lidt brød. Róża når hverken at takke Krystyna eller formane Shira, før hendes pige kommer ned ad loftsstigen og med en dramatisk buk tilbyder Krystyna et lille rektangel af vævet hø, som hun har lavet. Krystyna bliver blød i ansigtet. Hendes øjne bliver venlige. Shira kravler tilbage til loftet og ind i Róża's arme.

Kapitel 2
Shira øver sig i at være usynlig. Hun trækker skuldrene sammen, trækker maven ind og sniger sig som en kat. Hendes mor øver sig også, hun graver sig dybt ned i høet og vinker med en håndbevægelse til Shira, så hun kan sætte sig på skødet og være stille. Eller med en finger til læberne beder hun hende om at tie stille.
Gulvbrædderne er ru, og høet er skarpt og kradsende. Shira forstår ikke, hvorfor de ikke kan tage hjem - hvorfor de nogensinde har forladt det hjem, hvor hendes mor og far sammen puttede hende i seng som i en blød, dunet rede, og hvor musik og duften af bedstemors bagværk svævede gennem luften.
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I begyndelsen, under stemningen og opvarmningen, lød alting skævt og trist. Men så begyndte de at synge deres sange, og musikken bar dem alle sammen, indtil Shira ikke længere følte, at hun sad mod sin bedstefar, men at hun befandt sig et helt andet sted med ren, fælles skønhed. Levende, sjælfulde melodier. Ildsjælende, stampende rytmer. Det var ligegyldigt, hvor højt det blev - der var ikke en nabo i bygningen, som ikke nød deres spil. Shira kunne endda nynne, hvis hun havde lyst. Men her insisterer hendes mor på, at de skal være stille, at de skal gemme sig. Så hun vikler sig sammen som en fjeder og holder sig inde.
Shira bestræber sig på at dæmpe lyden af hver eneste bevægelse - hendes fodtrin, hendes åndedræt. Den forventede strøm af hendes tis har hun lært at udgyde i en næsten lydløs rislen. Og hun ved, at hun skal dække sig til og dermed slette ethvert tegn på sin eksistens - en række forsvindende øjeblikke - før hun trækker sig tilbage under bunker af hø.
Men selv når Shira vil sig selv til stilhed, trodser hendes krop hende med et pludseligt nys, en ufrivillig synke, et højt knæk i hoften, fordi hun har stået stille for længe. En lægmuskel kramper. En kløe har brug for at blive kløet. Hendes tarme trykker. Den mest omhyggeligt planlagte bevægelse får høet til at knitre eller et gulvbræt til at hvine. Shira kigger undskyldende over på sin mor. Bekymret stirrer hendes mor tilbage.
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Når Shira så meget som flytter sin vægt, knirker gulvbrættet, og luften bliver tyk og fugtig og svær at trække vejret. Men så springer hendes gule fugl ud af hendes hænder og skutter sig gennem et hul i loftbrædderne. Den farer rundt og leder efter fare og vender tilbage med sine lyse fjer, der er rystet af vinden. Shira søger i hans perlesorte øjne og finder beroligelse: Hendes lyde blev ikke hørt.
Hun sætter sig ned i høet igen og forsøger atter at være stille, indtil toner, brudstykker af sang og snart hele passager tager form og pulserer gennem hende, først stille, så med stigende intensitet og højere og højere. En historie fortalt med strygere og træblæsere: en istidsnat, en flimrende ild, lyde som sort vand under lysende is, basser og pauker og en violins længsler, og til sidst et crescendo, den frosne jord, der knækker...
Hendes mor vifter med en arm og rynker panden. Shira indser, at hun banker igen.

Kapitel 3
Tiden sløres og svulmer op i laden. Dagens skjul kan ikke skelnes fra nattens, og hvert eneste stille minuts tikken føles som en evighed i det skyggefulde mørke. Alligevel fortsætter Róża med den rutine med sovetid, som hun startede for Shira, da de først flygtede fra Gracja, da de holdt sig i udkanten af landsbyerne og krydsede marker og enge på vej til Henryks lade.
Først kigger de på fotografierne i kortfolden: Natan på universitetet på et billede, der er grynet og mørkt; Róża's forældre, der har bløde øjne på trods af deres stive, formelle kropsholdning; og Shira i sin ankellange kjole. Róża ville ønske, at hun kunne have taget andre fotografier, bedre billeder af Natan og af deres store familie. Men disse var inden for rækkevidde.
I hvQis^keanó béepdeérg Shi'rjah RNóżfa omh at zfGorQt_ællYe hengdYe NoPmd h'verXtb eénkReNlt avff Odyebm.
"Det er din far den dag, han fik sin farmaceutgrad; det er din bobe og zayde til tante Syl og onkel Jakobs bryllup; det er dig til fætter Gavriels bar mitzvah."
Derefter fortæller Róża historien om en lille pige, der med hjælp fra sin lysegule fugl passer en fortryllet have. Den lille pige er fem år gammel, på samme alder som Shira. Haven skal holdes stille - kun fuglesang er sikker - men der er en prinsesse, som ikke kan holde op med at nyse, og jætter, som aldrig må høre dem. Der er eventyr og trusler, som afværges af den lille piges hurtige tænkning, og hver gang ender historien med, at pigen og hendes mor krøller sig sammen i en blød dynge af margueritblade for at sove godt om natten.
Bagefter hvisker Róża en vuggevise om kyllinger, der venter på, at deres mor vender hjem med et glas te at drikke. Hun udelader den Cucuricoo, der indleder vuggevise, og beder til, at Shira ikke vil sige den højt. Derefter lægger hun sine store fingre over Shiras små fingre - et håndkram, et godnatkram - og lægger Shira til at sove med sit tæppe.
KAun il WafutteynU,J Afmorrvzirrewtó af suGlÉt, iHnVamktdiyvNiZtehtk ogP de&t cfalimHeJnTde lmillóaX zlwys., niMkkeArv RGóżIa XmidtC Oi $fóoYrGtælliénKgen.O HuXnm vTågnern mped lfxornyhe$tM CkAl,arrhe'dy, Qdéab _huIn hCørGer lRywdWennC óadfv Bnogeénb, der Igår i,nhd Tió usttaOlédxegn. wHenryk. aHannC VbæreSré nbaBtPteGlau,fAteFnH oCgÉ d)usft!etnV af Valko^hXo^lD Tmed siIg goJpV adT stÉigyeNnf oHg (idndt Vp*åq !lofYtdektT.
Róża gætter på, at klokken er over midnat. Gården er ikke oplyst: Krystyna og drengene må sove. Shira sidder med krydsede ben i midten af loftet, vågen, og lader som om hun leger med sin fugl, mens hun prøver at tyde Henryks hvisken om krigsnyheder, som han lige har hørt i kroen.
Henryks øjne farer i retning af Shira. "Hvornår sover hun?"
Róża skubber Shira hen til en plads ved væggen længst væk fra stigen. "Jeg har brug for, at du ligger her. Ja, med ansigtet mod væggen, uden at vende dig om - her er dit tæppe - og jeg lover, at jeg vil afslutte vores historie som det første i morgen tidlig." Róża mærker, at Shira stritter over den falske lyshed i hendes stemme.
"MGenJ (m(orG..j."
"Ingen spørgsmål nu. Shh."
Róża forbliver tavs og ubevægelig, mens Henryk fumler hendes bukser ned og skubber sig ind i hende. Tørt og stramt føles det, som om hun er ved at rive sig op. Hans vægt er tung på hende. Hans stød bliver hurtigere, dybere, hans bankning hårdere og hårdere. Hø skærer i hendes ryg, da han presser hende ind mod gulvbrædderne, hans salt og sved og ånde i hendes næse.
Hans lyde, lyden af dem - det at banke på en veranda-dør i en regnstorm - kunne afsløre alt. Alligevel kan Róża ikke gøre andet end at vente på, at det skal være forbi. Henryk føler op i hendes skjorte og finder hendes brystvorte; han vrider den og klemmer den hårdt. Róża fastholder øjnene på en sprække i loftsvæggen, en måneskinsskærm. Henryk fortsætter med at presse. Et sidste grynten og den varme våde fylde af ham indeni, før han falder sammen oven på hende, den ene hånd stadig i hendes hår.
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Tidligt næste morgen, deres anden dag i stalden, er Róża oppe og er desperat for at forlade stalden - hvor skal de tage hen - da Henryk træder ind. Hun retter sig op og krydser armene om sin midte.
"Du kan godt blive lidt længere," siger Henryk.
Róża falder som en vandpyt ned i høet. "Tak."
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"Har du fået en hest?" spørger naboen med småkagerne i vejret og øjnene i vejret.
"Hva'?"
"En hest i din lade?" Høje bunker af hø blokerer stadig sigtelinjen fra de tilstødende marker til staldens forside.
"wÅDh dewt.m JNUeijV, FjegV hJaurm baIrQe) 'flcydtHtet AudzstfyrA SrgubndtÉ, dcet neQr deBtp QhóeleU."m
Da en anden nabo nærmer sig, bærer Krystyna - hendes øjne flakker kun en enkelt gang op mod loftet - lille Łukasz hen til gruppen for at blive udråbt. Hvilket instinkt til at beskytte Róża og Shira er der kommet til udtryk i hende? Róża undrer sig. Og hvilket instinkt til at forråde kan opstå lige så øjeblikkeligt?
Róża trækker sig væk fra mursprækken, før hun overværer, at nogen af dem spiser kagerne.
Dagen udfolder sig: Krystyna bringer en krukke med vand og to stykker brød; senere fjerner Henryk deres affaldsspand. Trods disse venligheder er Róża sikker på, at den ene eller den anden hvert øjeblik vil kræve, at de forlader stedet - og hun tænker sig om og forsøger at finde ud af, hvor hun og Shira kan tage hen næste gang. Hun kender et hus i den næste landsby, hvor hun engang har leveret en sękacz til en købmands bryllup. Kagen, der var 40 æg værd, var høj som et træ og svær at bære, og huset skilte sig ud, fordi det også var meget højt. Hun prøver at huske: Hvor tæt lå huset på naboerne? Og hørte hun nogensinde, at købmandens kone havde fået børn? Hvis ja, så har de måske mindre held der....
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De bliver ikke smidt ud af stalden dagen efter eller dagen efter. Róża skærer lavvandede hak i spærene i stalden med en sten for at holde styr på hver dag. Hun kan lide vægten af stenen i hånden og det bløde træs eftergivelighed under stenen. I ophobningen af mærker føler hun overlevelsens triumf, som altid er mildnet af frygt.

Kapitel 4
Mens Róża markerer spæret, endnu en dagsafslutning, hvisker Shira sine vedholdende spørgsmål: "Hvorfor skal vi gemme os? Hvorfor skal vi være tavse?" Róża fastholder Shira med øjnene og ønsker, at hun havde svar, der kunne stille hende.
"Nogle jætter kan ikke lide blomster, og fordi de tror, at musikken i vores stemmer hjælper blomsterne med at vokse, må vi aldrig lade jætterne høre vores sange."
"E_rD dietS iir oOrbdlen fofr !eénX fugl( at sysnHgRe*?$"!
"Ja, så længe vi tier stille."
Róża vender sig tilbage til spæret og tænker på Henryks besøg den foregående aften. Han bevægede sig langsomt, næsten blidt, ind i hende. Hun kunne ikke lade være med at bemærke hans forskelle fra Natan: selve hans tyngde, hvordan hans bryst er mindre behåret, hvordan hans lugt rummer jordens snert i sig. Selv da hun holdt sig helt stille - hun så på ham som fra en anden krop, et andet sted - vandrede hendes øjne fra væggen til hans ansigt, hans skrå grå øjne...
Stenens skarpe spids, som Róża har knuget i sin næve, bider sig fast i hendes kød. Hun synker et gylp og lægger stenen ned i hjørnet. Hun regner tilbage og prøver at regne ud, hvilket hak Shabbas faldt på, ubemærket.
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Ved at tælle hakene ser Róża, at det er deres ellevte dag i laden.