She stood at the edge of the forest.  She was barely five feet tall and small.  Her heavy winter coat hung down near her ankles.  It was a hand-me-down from one of her sisters who had left it behind when they left two years before.

“What happened to them?” Marsha wondered as she looked up at the man her father had trusted to care for her.  Her father and last surviving brother had both been killed earlier that day.  This man and his wife had been willing to keep their word to protect her, while her father was alive.

With his death, her true protector was gone.  At fourteen, she was about to be completely alone.  The man’s wife wouldn’t look at Marsha while the man took her outside.  They’d trudged through the deep snow.  It was dusk, about to be night. She knew the story of Hansel and Gretel but, even if she had bread crumbs, she did not want to return to this place.  It was no longer home.  There was no home.

The man looked down at her.  With no expression, he said, “Take off your shoes. You won’t need them.  You’ll be dead by morning.”