Satine [ONGOING]

SATINE (IX)

Two days. Three days. Four days. Satine had stopped counting. Her body ached, her stomach grumbled begging for anything. Their money had been spent on gas and in a turn of misfortune, their car had broken down not long after they had passed Dijon. They were forced to push it into a ditch after attempting to salvage it for hours, Madeleine crying in their ears. The little infant was never well fed and cried and cried until she would fall asleep, they stumbled upon villages on their way and begged for any sort of food, but it seemed that the generosity showcased in Montereau was an extreme rarity, not to mention some towns were deserted completely, evidently, they were not the only ones fleeing. Ifnanyone dared to open the door for them, it would soon close again once they caught a glimpse of Satine' bloody dress, and their wandering wide eyes. As the sun rose and rolled back down over and over again, the fear of troops and armies catching up with them became an ambient threat, always in the background, like a cloud hanging above the two women. They had done it already, why would they not do it again? They had been warned by other travellers that were also making their way across the country. On the fourth day, Florence realised she did not have any sort of identification papers for Madeleine. She must have forgotten or lost them in the panic of her departure, this prevented the two women from penetrating larger towns, such as Dijon or Annecy because they feared they would stumble upon French authorities, or worse, German authorities and have to justify the guardianship of this child or even legality of her presence in the country. They wouldn't risk stepping onto any bus or train for the same reason. Despite this, they didn't fight about it, or blame each other. They were past the point of blaming anyone. They were even past the point of understanding their situation. They were drenched from head to toe in sweat and covered with cuts and blisters. They hid the grease in their hair with scarves and braids, but they felt it all over their skin, as well as the dried blood across their clothes, and soon the feeling was so common to them they feared it would never quite wash-off. The attack came back in flashes, the sounds of the guns, the screams. It was impossible for either of them to escape. The day when the Alps finally came into view Satine sobbed and broke down on the ground in tears, far ahead, hidden in the clouds, a little glimmer of hope rose high in the skies ahead, the mountains were far into the distance but at least they were there, where they had always stood. That same night, they built a makeshift tent in the woods with sticks and huddled together, but of course, other than Madeleine no one could sleep. She was safely tucked into her blanket pressed against her mother's chest. Florence kept as close to Satine as she could, their hands laced together, it wasn't particularly cold, but she was terrified of the sounds of the woods around her, the occasional crack of a branch or hoot of an owl would jolt her back awake. The woods around were unfamiliar to a Parisian, and they had not exactly had an easy road so far, so Satine did her best to reassure her, though the hairs on the back of her neck were raised too.
"Are you okay, Florence?" Satine asked in a whisper. The woman shook her head.

"We should have stayed in Paris" She whispered through her trembling lips. That thought was constantly on Satine's mind. They did not know what had actually happened to Paris, they had not come in contact with a radio for days. This had been the longest week of her life and it didn't look as if it was going to get any shorter. "I know," She sighed. " maybe we should have"
"I can't believe we're still alive." Florence croaked, giving Madeleine's forehead a light kiss.
"We can't be the only ones who feel that way." Satine said, looking up at the stars above through the trees.

"But not everyone gets to feel that way."
Satine bit her lip, her eyes starting to water at the thought of that poor boy. He had been no older than six, and his poor mother or father would be out there searching for him.

"Madeleine doesn't have a fever or anything does she?"

Satine frowned and put her hand on her small forehead. "She's been a bit off."