Winter set in and soon thick flakes were falling in front of the cave entrance. Even though Gisel often went to the camp and helped Lidija with the manual labor, she also sat alone in the cave for many hours, staring ahead of her. Then the images from the village caught up with her, or fear of the future gnawed at her. She had a lot to think about and had to organize her thoughts. Next year, the Slavs would move on. What would she do then? Go with them? Or sneak back to the village to see what awaited her there?

Sometimes vague fragments of images drifted past her inner eye - the attack on the mule track, the unconscious Katharina, the chicken above her door, the priest who had stood in front of her. Then she pressed her hands to her temples to stop the flood of images. She broke out in a sweat, moaned and twitched until she finally stared apathetically at her feet and began to tremble at the slightest sound from outside. To her, everything then sounded like approaching footsteps, the poking of the poker in the fire or the squeaking of the door hinges when she knew the priest was coming back.

And then she caught herself wondering whether the dean's communions hadn't been so bad after all. Should she have shown the ageing, embittered nun just a little more understanding? And hadn't the other sisters always been warm and welcoming to her? Oh Gisel, how late this realization came!