Emilie gazed out of the window at the dull landscape. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the sky was a depressing gray. People walked cautiously through the cobblestoned street, and German Soldiers patrolled every street corner. She pulled the curtain back over the window with a swift motion, and strode back to the kitchen with a sigh.

"What's wrong, mama?"

Emilie jumped slightly as she turned to see her six-year-old daughter Mary. Her face held a half-curious, half-concerned expression. Her soft brown hair was messy from playing, and her teddy bear was tucked beneath her arm.

Emilie smiled, "Nothing, Mary." Then her tone changed to scolding, "What are you doing out of bed? I told you to take a nap."

Mary grinned sheepishly. "I did, mama!"

"For five minutes?"

"Mhm! Mr. Teddy snuggled with me."

Emilie shook her head with a grin, "Well, then, make yourself useful and help me make knead the dough."

Mary grinned with delight as her mother scooped her into her arms and set her upon the countertop. Emilie dipped her pointer finger into the flour, and gently tapped her daughter's nose as she was kneading the bread dough. Mary squealed in delight. Emilie smiled.

The sound of the front door opening was followed my thudding footsteps. Hurried footsteps. Emilie turned around to see her husband, hurrying towards her. Something was wrong. Emilie took Mary off of the counter.

"Marcus? What is it?"

He held up a piece of paper. The newspaper?

"The crossword. There's something in the crossword." He whispered.

The sound of a baby's soft cries could be heard. Emilie turned to her daughter,

"Mary, go get your baby brother for me, would you?" She nodded eagerly and tottered off.

Emilie's eyes turned to her husband, sharp and cold, "I told you, no war talk around the children!"

"It's not war... look here, at the crossword!"

Emilie surveyed the crossword. Something was most definitely different about it.

"Edward gave it to me," Marcus said, "he told me it was important."

"Well, let's solve it then."

••••

"Marcus, surely this can't mean-"

"It does."

The sentence struck a mix of horror and fear into Emilie's heart.

'Hitler has come at last. Run.'

Marcus flexed his jaw, "Get the children. We leave now.