Before Our Dawn| ongoing

fifty

Chapitre cinquante
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The journey to the Swiss border was a daunting one, stretching over 300 kilometres of treacherous terrain. Hans, Yves, and Analise set out under the cloak of darkness, their breaths visible in the cold night air. The path they chose was less travelled, winding through dense forests and over snow-covered hills.

The silence of the night was a double-edged sword; it cloaked their movements but amplified their fears. Hans's heart was a drumbeat of anxiety, each thump echoing his worries. He thought of Isra and the children, of the promises made, and the uncertainty that lay ahead. Despite Yves's reassurances, the spectre of doubt lingered, a ghostly presence that walked beside him.

They avoided main roads, opting for the cover of the woods, where the trees stood like silent sentinels. They crossed frozen streams and navigated narrow passes, where the snow lay untouched, a canvas of purity in a world marred by conflict.

Yves, ever the pragmatist, kept a steady pace, his eyes scanning the darkness for signs of danger. "We'll make it," he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet. "The network is strong, and our next guide is reliable. Once we reach the transfer point, we'll head back."

They trudged through the night, their footsteps muffled by the snow, they found themselves wrapped in a silence as deep as the darkness around them. The only sound was the occasional crunch of snow under their boots and the distant howl of the wind.

"It's a clear night at least. The stars are out."

Yves glanced up. "Yes, they've been our guides on many nights like this. I've lost count of how many."

"How many times have you done this, Yves?"

"Since the war began? Too many to count. Each time, it's the same route but a different face, a different story."

"It never gets easier, does it?" He reckoned putting his life at risk wasn't amusing in the slightest, and there had to be instances where he was reluctant to journey this far for the sake of others.

"No, it doesn't. But seeing them cross over, finding a chance at a new life... it's worth it."

His gaze fell on Analise's frightened face, and he took her hand. "I can't imagine doing this as many times as you have."

But she walked with a quiet determination, her presence a constant reminder of the stakes. Her life, her future, depended on the success of this journey. She seldom spoke, but her eyes held a depth of gratitude and trust that needed no words.

"You find strength you didn't know you had when you're helping others. And humour helps, too. Like the time I told a bad joke, and we had to stifle our laughter for miles."

"I could use a bad joke right now," chuckled Hans. Oh, how he wished he were at home with Isra and the children instead of in the biting cold. 

They journeyed for two days, which was a blur of movement and vigilance. At night, they huddled together for warmth, sharing meagre rations and whispered plans. The cold was a relentless foe, seeping into their bones, a constant challenge to their endurance. When they needed a break, Hans would lie awake long after the others had succumbed to exhaustion, the stars overhead a cold, distant audience to his silent vigil.

On the third night, as they began walking again, Yves's voice, a trembling whisper, reached his ears. "We're near the transfer point," he said, a note of caution threading through his words. Hans nodded, his mind racing with the implications of their proximity to safety.

He was tired, he was hungry, and he missed his family dearly. But he had hope. Once they handed Analise over at the transfer point, whoever was waiting would do the rest.