The smell of burnt wood seeped into their nostrils and from there straight into their hearts. Tasia turned around and looked at her husband, but his gaze was neither puzzled nor frightened like hers. His eyes were filled with pain and resignation. Deep inside, the woman sensed a flicker of anger, maybe even hatred, but she might have been mistaken. Argyris was exhausted; he couldn't endure any more war. He couldn't bear any more death. "The girls, Argyris! Our girls!" she shouted and started running first towards the house. He was holding the donkey, which was loaded with oil and whatever else his brother had supplied them with, who had his own way during those years of Occupation. He had frozen in place, watching the black smoke rising at the end of the hill. For a moment, he thought about leaving the animal and starting to run back. Not to reach the edge of the dirt road and see his home engulfed in flames below, not to hear the screams of his children burning alive