The Huntress

by Kate Quinn

We’re standing in the ashes of a war like no other—if we don’t try harder to see the shades of gray involved, we’ll find ourselves in the thick of a new one.”

Will I ever see you again? she wondered, and somehow thought not. There was some relief in the thought, some regret, some pleasure. No need to rank one over the other.

“You go down your list of fears.” Her eyes had a distant compassion, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Stamp them out, one after other, till there’s only one. Is good to have one fear, luchik, but just one.

To look back was to drown. To look forward was to fly.

Time is a wheel, vast and indifferent, and when time rolls on and men forget, we face the risk of circling back. We slouch yawning to a new horizon and find ourselves gazing at old hatreds seeded and watered by forgetfulness and flowering into new wars. New massacres. New monsters like die Jägerin. Let this wheel stop. Let us not forget this time. Let us remember.