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. Her toes were numb, but still tingling, and she realized they might be frostbitten. She must not allow herself to weep. It was an indulgence she could not afford.
    Hopelessness turned to anger; she would not allow herself or her baby to die here in these d esolate woods. Then, with great effort, she forced herself back to her feet. She wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her dirty, bloodstained hand and pulled her suitcase out of the snow. Gritting her teeth and limping on one leg, she continued on her way.
    As the sun’s dazzling golden rays broke through the darkness, Petra knew she must rest. Both her body and her mind were total ly exhausted . Birds began to chirp as the forest slowly came to life. As she came closer to the road, she heard the rumble of a motor vehicle as it broke through the calm of the sounds of nature.
    Using a thick clump of bushes for cover, she waited as it came closer. If it happened to be a local on his way to town, she decided that she would flag him down and ask for a ride. Even though the Institute hung like a dark cloud less than a mile away, the cold, hunger and thirst were already wearing her down.
    Watching from her hiding place, she saw a German army truck loaded with prisoners wearing gray striped uniforms, with yellow a rm bands. The arm bands had six- pointed stars on them. She held her breath , afraid of being seen as she watched the vehicle go by. The girls at the home had talked about the concentration camps, where enemies of the Reich were detained. She wondered what crimes these men had committed. Of course, the other girls had also mentioned the racial issue and how undesirables were taken to camps because they belonged there, far away from the pure German population.
    From what Petra had heard, Jews and Romany seemed to pose the biggest threat to the Nazis ’ supreme Aryan race, but others like homosexuals and Jehovah’s Witnesses also fell into the objectionable category. At Heim Hockland , Petra had heard the girls say that these prisoners spent their days living in concentration camps were often hired out as free labor to the German farmers and factory owners. The concept bothered her. She wondered what made the Nazis feel so superior, but she had dared not speak her mind.
    From within the truck, a single prisoner caught her eye, and she felt sur e that he saw her too. His deep- set black eyes blazed out of a pain-stricken face, trappin g her in their stare. After the truck had passed by , she stood still for a few minutes, consumed both with pity for the pris oners and fear for her own well- being. With a firm grip she braced herself on the trunk of an aging oak tree and sucked air into her lungs until she fel t that she could continue on . When she finally reached the open road, she found herself surrounded by acres of farmland.
    Heim Hockland meant highlands - that much she knew - but she had never seen the beauty of Germany’s farm country before. Hills curved gently across the landscape covered with virgin snow, a pure white powder that seemed like fairy dust sprinkled with tiny diamonds sparkling in the rising sun. Petra was famished and thirsty. Instinctively , her hand went to her belly. She must feed the baby. Wishing now that she had stolen some food and a thermos from the home before she left, she began to walk towards the farmhouses. Unsure of how she would be received, she decided not to risk going to someone’s door. Instead she would hide out in a barn where she could get out of the cold for a while and possibly find some food. Then , once she regained her strength, she would continue on. She studied the nearby farms. They lay acres apart. She chose the closest one an d made her way through the snow drifts toward it. As discreetly as possible , she inched around the old wood frame house and found the entrance to the barn. With the last of her strength, she lifted the bar on the door and opened the latch. The barn appeared peaceful as she entered,