Though they were friends once, and comrades, the two women no longer spoke. The townsfolk had long claimed a victor, but there was still some doubt regarding the origin of their conflict. Perhaps because of this and for other reasons, they were uneasy in the women’s presence. If one of the women entered the bakeshop where customers jostled for cakes and streusel, the crowd quieted, fearing the other would follow. This had never happened. Nevertheless, the customers paid in haste, waving off the cashier’s protestations that they were either short or overpaid, already fumbling for their sweet treat. They wished to forget the unpleasant encounter, if such a frivolous moment could be called as such. Outside the shop, they put the confection in their mouth. The treat was rummy and wet. They resolved not to go back, but as it was the only bakeshop in Celle, they always did. After all, it was the woman’s fault. They would have chosen more wisely if she had not distracted them.

The women, for their part, would have laughed at the absurdity. What nonsense! It was a lifetime ago. But if they should glimpse their foe’s rickety figure pedaling along the boulevard with a cigarette between her pursed lips, their mood would spoil. And when their children called to complain about the colicky baby and the wife who wanted to move to Stuttgart and the boss who was an oaf, they were not quite gruff. Yes. No, she wasn’t smoking. Yes, that’s right. Good. Will see you soon. Bye now. Yes. Goodbye. The women hung up and thought about their children, all of whom, except for the twins and the only boy, had turned out badly. They thought of their own mothers. One had been a cellist who could play Bach’s Sarabande perfectly after hearing it performed when she was thirteen. The other had been gymnast and dog trainer for hussars. In order to forget their children and their mothers and, most of all, the girl who had betrayed them, they busied themselves with other things. One woman washed her clean sheets, unused because she preferred to sleep on the porch with an afghan. The other drank a glass of beer and scoffed at Miss Sophie’s idiotic manservant on television. Both women ate a piece of souring cake from the bakery and retired early. In their dreams, they were chased through a forest of pines. They woke drenched and panting, and struggled to remember what had plagued them, but as usual could not.

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Because Gert and Stoffi were as different as two girls could be, they were fated to be like sisters. Stoffi was a climber. She scaled walls and trees and bales of hay. The spot she loved most was St. Ludwig’s tower. Stoffi thought she could see the ocean from there, but really she had no sense of either geography or reality. Sometimes she saw marauding elves on Peters’ farm, charging the barn and stealing the cows. Sometimes she saw werewolves sipping daintily from cups of tea. Sometimes she saw God diving in and out of crowds, thumping hats and pinching cheeks. Stoffi loved numbers and stars, despised her baby brothers and rhubarb, and was afraid of owls. She was nearly useless on the farm, where her father was always after her to clean the pens and muck the stalls. She was good with the dogs but could not be trusted with the livestock, and her parents looked forward to the day her brothers would be old enough to take her place. Gert, on the other hand, was obedient and quiet, and lived in a two room flat with her mother. She did all of the cooking and most of the cleaning. Her most prized possession was a silver brush her mother stole from her benefactress, Princess “Schnapps” Mathilde of Saxony, but that Gert believed was an heirloom from her father’s side. Like her mother, Gert had a perfect ear, which she demonstrated on her teacher’s piano. But she was indifferent to music, and played in a toneless and flabby manner. Despite the fact that he was paid with lifted knick-knacks and moldy fruit, Mr. Auer endured these lessons because he was in love with Ms. Heppel. Her beauty had no equal, but she was as much a child as her daughter, perhaps more so. Gert looked nothing like her, and since her mother had moved here when Gert was an infant, the town more or less assumed the girl was pilfered as well.

So it was that the girls lived and dreamed and worked (or not), strange to one another but not strangers. Where the other girls at school admired Gert for helping out with their homework and defending them from Leni, the class bully, Stoffi admired her for the freckle in her left eye. And though Gert’s opinion of Stoffi was not known, when Stoffi’s throaty laugh reverberated on the playground, Gert would look up from her book and regard her with a curious, amused expression.

One day Gert played even more poorly than usual at her lesson, and when Mr. Auer scolded her for not heeding the diminuendo and fortepiano, she confessed, in fits and starts, her dilemma. Mr. Auer tried to make out what the poor girl was getting at. Ahh, he thought. She needed money for some sort of club. He gave her a glass of milk and told her not to worry. Gert’s face lit up. The lesson resumed without further incident, but Gert was too excited to focus and made no progress. Meanwhile, Stoffi came home from school in a state of near hysterics and prattled on as she fed one of the babies. Exhausted, her mother stopped her daughter and reminded her that she was needed at home. In response, Stoffi bit her baby brother on the forearm, hard. Her mother smacked her and sent her to bed without supper. In her room, Stoffi wiped her tears and climbed out the window. The dogs came over to the fence, wagging their tails. Shhh, she said, and entered the pen. They surrounded her, licking her hands in search of treats. Gathering blankets from their cubbies, Stoffi made a bed for herself and watched the chimney smoke billow into girls dancing happily across the sky. The dogs nestled against her and soon they were all asleep.

Hannah Koehler was the leader of the sorority, as the league was known in the early days, before it became compulsory. The daughter of a postman who would end up joining the resistance and disappear at the outbreak of the war, Hannah held the inaugural meeting at the boys’ school because it had better facilities. At first, the girls were apprehensive. The boys were gone for the day, and the hallways were eerily quiet. But once Hannah reassured them, the girls became giddy, darting around like kites in the wind. Hannah arranged the chairs in a semi-circle. Gross! Elsa said as soon as Gert took her seat next to her and Minna. Gert’s heart dropped. Elsa pointed to a boy’s jacket that hung from a peg against the wall. Minna giggled. See? Elsa elbowed her. Gert laughed tentatively. Comrades, Hannah said in a grave tone. Please listen. She began her speech. The girls were to be courageous, loyal, dependable, and above all honest. Here, Hannah paused. The door had opened. A girl entered. Her cheeks were flushed and her brow glistened. Hannah welcomed her and she took a seat next to Gert. Hannah continued. There would be physical training, singing, and crafts. They were to perform their duties with dexterity and assist their comrades with any task. Any questions? There were several. Would there be any hunting? No. Not even rabbit? No, I’m afraid not. I’m a hunter, one girl boasted. You are? Yes, I’ve hunted rabbit and duck and fox. Really? Oh, yes. They were amazed. This went on. Another girl asked if there would be fishing. No, no fishing. The girls thought it over. We will have lots of fun! Hannah said, too brightly. The meeting came to a close and Hannah collected the dues. When Hannah got to the girl who came late, the girl broke down. Hannah was not prepared for this situation. The poor girl was beside herself, and yet it would be unfair to the other girls who paid for the same privilege. I’m sorry but I cannot allow it, she said. The girl began to cry. The others tried to comfort her, but they were used to her outbreaks in class, and did not feel too sorry. Gert, however, put her arm around her and said she could help. What were a few more pfennige to Mr. Auer? She reasoned. After all, he loved her mother. Everyone knew that.

Indeed. Gert brought the money to the next meeting. Stoffi couldn’t believe it. She hugged and kissed her and would not let go of her hand. Afterward, Stoffi walked Gert home. Stoffi kissed her again on both cheeks and thanked her. Gert climbed the stairs and greeted her mother, who was stringing her bow on the bed, and went to start dinner. She heard her name being called and looked out the window. There was Stoffi below. Goodbye! She called and waved. See you! Gert waved and watched as Stoffi ran down Pilzergasse. From then on, Stoffi and Gert were inseparable. Gert taught Stoffi how to slipstich and tie a knot and Stoffi showed Gert how to climb a rope and divide fractions. They won a relay race and made badges. Gert helped with Stoffi’s chores. They sang in choir and when it was warm, swam in the river Aller.

The girls grew. May became June.

That one’s Pegasus, see? And over there, to your right, that’s the Little Fox, Stoffi said. They were lying with the dogs under the stars. The shepherds had grown accustomed to Gert, even looking out for her when Stoffi came to feed them by herself. Gert loved the farm. Stoffi’s mom and dad were nice and thankfully didn’t know her mother. Gert didn’t understand why Stoffi wanted to keep the sorority a secret from them, and made Gert promise to confirm her story that classes had been extended. Stoffi had pleaded with her for days when Gert said she could not do it, and wore her down so much that she finally relented. They slept most of the summer like this. One of the dogs began to snore. Do you know where they come from? Stoffi asked. Their mother, silly. No, not the dogs. The stars. Gert yawned. God made them, she said, resting her head against Stoffi. They were quiet for a while. Gert, are you awake? Mmm. Do you hear him? Who? Gert turned on her side. God. Go to sleep already. A dog defecated close by. He’s crying, Stoffi whispered, but Gert had fallen asleep.

The sorority was suspended for summer exams. The girls studied at Gert’s and slept at Stoffi’s. One afternoon when it was too hot in the apartment, they climbed the tower at St. Ludwig’s. They went to the park and laughed at the men who tipped their caps to them. They saw Elsa on her bike and chased her. Elsa told them she saw Hannah kissing a boy outside the cinema but they would not believe her. They took turns riding up and down the boulevard. Stoffi climbed a tree and flashed them from below. The girls rolled on the ground. An old woman passed, muttering under her breath. Look at her beard! Stoffi said. Stop! I’ll pee myself! Gert cried. Elsa bid them goodbye and Gert and Stoffi ran with her, singing, until Gert tripped over a curb. Gert! Stoffi helped her up. Aside from a scraped knee and bruised hip, Gert was uninjured.

The next week, Gert tossed clothes and turned over furniture. She opened and closed cupboards and drawers and hatboxes. She found saucers and figurines and cufflinks and a men’s Rasiermesser. There were perfume bottles and pearls and Christmas ornaments. Stockings, watches, and three tennis rackets. A fencing sheath and pipe. Monogrammed napkins and tea towels and scarves. There were her mother’s sheet music and strings, her night cream and bras. And Gert’s books and pencils and wool socks. They had milk and potatoes and canned meat. They had a desk, two chairs, a table, and a bed. They had everything but the one thing Gert was looking for. Stoffi offered to look with her, but Gert said it was pointless. She failed her grammar exam and did not eat lunch. When Leni picked on Minna and called her a fat cow, Gert was unmoved. Stoffi picked some cornflowers for her, which cheered her a little. There was no sorority after school, but Gert agreed to meet at the farm.

She was late. Her mother had wanted to help with dinner and set fire to the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning. It was dusk when she left the apartment. She passed St. Ludwig’s and the park and Peters’ farm. She reached Stoffi’s. Large pines bordered their property, and Gert hurried her steps until their house came into view. The fields glowed beneath a bright moon. A fox crept along the fence. Gert stopped to pet the horses. She heard a dog bark and then Stoffi. The pen was on the other side of the house. In the window, Mrs. Gottlieb was knitting with a boy on her lap. Gert turned the corner. There was Stoffi, kneeling in front of Brita with her back to her. She was grooming the bitch’s coat. Stoffi? Gert stepped forward. Stoffi rolled up her tools in a strip of burlap and scrambled to her feet. Gert! The dogs nudged her legs. Stoffi kissed her. Her lips were damp. The weather’s turning, Stoffi said, eyeing the sky. Yes, Gert agreed. It is.

Fall arrived. It was too cold to sleep at Stoffi’s. Gert attended her mother’s concert at the castle. The Venetian theater was palatial with its red and gold balconies. Mr. Auer sat next to her, irritating Gert with his phantom conducting. Gert’s mother looked like a movie star in her green dress, swaying in the instrument’s embrace. Like a lover, Mr. Auer pictured. Or a crazy person, Gert thought. When they got home, Gert waited until her mother was sound asleep before leaving. Clouds obscured the moon and the wind kicked leaves from their limbs. Gert pulled her cap down and checked for the Rasiermesser. A man appeared, smoking a pipe, and seemed to match his step with hers. Gert walked on. When she arrived at her destination, she turned to see if she had been followed. She had not. The house was dark. She located the burlap easily. Stoffi had hid it in a pail in the barn. You careless fool, she thought. Gert slipped into the pen. Her favorites came out of their cubbies. The others appraised her sleepily. She went to the pregnant bitch first. She moved on to the second female. Her hands were cold. Gert finished and cleaned up. When she left, the clouds had dispersed into a slender procession.

Stoffi told her all about it. It happens, she said. They quarantined Nix and Schatzie. They went to their sorority meeting and discussed plans to attend next summer’s convention in Hannover. Hannah suggested putting on a Christmas show to raise money. The girls liked the idea. After the meeting, Stoffi asked Gert if she wanted to come over but Gert said she had to get home. Stoffi had a funny habit of puffing out her cheeks when she was melancholy. She did this now. Gert took Stoffi’s hand and swung her arm. They departed. Gert returned one week later. She brought leftover sausage she saved from dinner to coax the young bitch. The legs and back were difficult, but Gert was satisfied. The overall effect was that of patchy polka dots. Gert waited before coming back for the males. For the next few weeks, Gert didn’t see much of Stoffi. Stoffi went home right after classes, and was absent at the meetings. Gert accompanied the girls on the piano for their upcoming show. Mr. Auer noted that her technique had improved considerably.

The dogs could not be sold, and Mr. Gottlieb, fearing that the infection would spread to the livestock, put them down. Gert’s mother came home with a Chinese box, and Gert used it to store her silver brush. Stoffi returned to the meetings, helping Elsa with the decorations. The Christmas show arrived. The tinsel trim and paper lanterns made the room festive. The girls took their places. Gert sat at the piano and positioned her hands above its keys. She lifted her head and turned to signal the chorus. The girls looked straight ahead. All except Stoffi, whose gaze was fixed on Gert. Stoffi blinked slowly like a child who, after waking in the middle of the night frightened, grows accustomed to the dark.

Marcelle Heath is a freelance editor. An assistant editor for Luna Park Review and contributing editor for Fictionaut, her work has appeared online at Mississippi Review, Pindeldyboz, Northville Review, Nanoism, and matchbook. She has been nominated for a Sundress Best of the Net and a Micro Award, and has work forthcoming in Pear Noir! Marcelle lives in Portland, Oregon.