The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII by Othniel J. Seiden Page B

directly behind him now. Every once in a while he would look over his shoulder to see it still following him. "We must stay together, you and I. You are my only remaining mishpocheh. I fear I've no other family."
    Sol followed the trail along the stream until it ended at a small ravine. He could see where a bridge had once been, but it had long since collapsed. "Perhaps it was washed out by a flood," he suggested to his shadow. "I'd wager it carries a real torment in the spring, with the rains and snow melt."
    The ravine was perhaps seven meters deep and as many wide. Its sides were steep, but not too steep to negotiate. Sol could see where the trail continued on the other side. "It's an ideal place to explore for a refuge," he said to himself as much as to his shadow. "It's obvious no one ever uses this trail anymore. Certainly the Germans would have no idea of its existence.
    He climbed down the steep walls and at the bottom looked back up. It didn't look as steep from here. Instead of climbing back out the other side, he decided to explore the ravine. As he looked around, he saw he was in complete shade. The deep sides kept out the sun. "I'll have to pick you up later, Shadow, when I come back up. Wait for me up there in the warm sun!" I must be going nuts, he thought, but it did help the terrible loneliness he felt since... Ivan and Sosha were wonderful-but the shadow was-from before... As a child he'd had a little stuffed bear and he remembered having talked to it the same way. When he had his stuffed bear-he always had a friend. Now, aside from Ivan and Sosha, he was totally alone. And as far as the world was concerned, "I, too, am dead."
    If the trail on which I've just come ran north-then the turn that would have crossed it faced me east. Then this ravine must run north and south, also. I should explore the ravine to the south first. That will be nearest the farm. "Better I should know the terrain nearer the farm first. I can spread out, to the north, later..."
    He estimated he'd traveled one or two kilometers north and about one kilometer east of the farm. If he traveled south now, he'd be staying within a two-or three-kilometer radius. "If I could find a good hideaway in that range, it would be perfect." I'll be near someone I can trust-near a place where I can get provisions-yet far enough away to hide without jeopardizing my friends...
    This creek bed I'm walking in is probably one that runs full only with the winter runoff or when occasional heavy rains cause flooding for a few turbulent hours.
    As he made his way south in the ravine, he wondered where the stream that the trail had followed went. It now occurred to him that stream and this ravine must both empty into the same body of water-"Perhaps the Dnieper River. It would be behind me, to the north." How far? It would be good to know. Someday that might be my escape route...
    He pushed on to the south. At about a kilometer and a half he saw something that brought a bright smile to his face. "A cave-it looks like a small cave..." He ran to the spot. It was at a curve in the ravine, along the outside wall of the turn. Its entrance was under a shelf cut into the sandstone by centuries of rushing water. It was a hole about one meter high, five or six meters wide. "It should give excellent protection-except from floods. Then it could be a death trap..."
    Stooping down, Sol went under the sandstone shelf to the low entrance. Crouching even lower, he crept inside. Inside he could stand up. It was a rather large chamber-a geological bubble, hollowed out by wind or water. When his eyes became used to the dim light streaming through the entrance, he noticed something else. At one end of the cavern-a rise, the floor at that spot was about a meter and a half above that of the rest of the chamber. Perhaps it would be safe there even during high water. The thought excited Sol. He went back toward the entrance where the light was better. There he looked carefully at the