Even from the distance, Harold could sense kindness and sadness radiating from the tall officer's chiseled features. It was now or never, he supposed, wrapping Leila tightly in his cherished prayer shawl and making his painful way down the series of ramps and ladders that had helped them hide.
Leila smiled as the soldier moved close.
The tired soldier suddenly smiled back, even as Harold held her tighter. He could only try – they were dead anyway.
“Pomożesz mi?” (“Will you help us?”)