There were many large potholes, and when I stumbled I felt the strong tug of Mother’s rope on my wrist. The rough rope rubbed and hurt me. My stomach was churning with fright. “I don’t feel good.” I was half crying. “Shh!” Mother stood still. “I hear something,” she whispered. We listened. In the distance was the sound of marching feet. “Have the Russians landed now?” Mother asked. “Hide in the wild irises,” Ko ordered, and we slid down the steep riverbank over scratchy weeds and small stones. The marching grew louder. I flattened myself on the bank. Mother slid her pack to the ground and lay beside me. Ko raised her head. “They’re coming toward the river.” I moved toward Mother and she put her arm around me and pulled me close. My heart was thumping. I heard a man’s shout. The swift-running river drowned his words, but then they came nearer. “One, two, three, four!” The vigorous voice was shouting in the Korean language. “One, two, three, four!”
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