In the month following the disappearance and then reappearance of Isolde, Adina had felt torn between conflicting emotions. She wasn’t sure how she had found herself wrapped up in this crazed conflict or really whether it was what she wanted. So far, Adina had been lucky. Yes, she lived in the Ghetto and had to scrape a meager living together making and repairing clothes. But she had also been fortunate enough that, once the yellow star was unpicked from the lapel of her shabby winter coat, she could blend easily into the snow strewn streets of Mittenwold. Her light hair and pale eyes did not scream ‘Jewess’ like the appearance of many of those less fortunate inhabitants of the ghetto.<br/><br/>She knew it was wrong but Adina had been reluctant to contact either Erlind or Isolde since she had sneaked away from the Hotel in the dead of night. It was those conflicting emotions. They were holding her back from making a decision regarding her involvement in the plot to stop that psychotic blond bombshell Darcy.<br/><br/>But last night she had summoned the courage to water gaze once more and what she saw there had made her mind up for her. She had seen a hazed image of what was to come, the concentration camps that Hitler was setting up to control and reduce the Jewish population.<br/><br/>And so this morning, the sun barely even rising above the rooftops and the early morning sky hazy with snowflakes already, she found herself winding her way through the deserted streets of the Ghetto in search of the makeshift infirmary where Isolde worked. She knew that she couldn’t turn up there with no good reason. That would arouse far too much suspicion and would get Isolde in more trouble than it was worth. And so, wincing against the pain, she had drawn the blade of a knife across the palm of one hand, making enough of a wound that she would likely require stitches. That way, nobody could question any ulterior motives the girl may have for being there.<br/><br/>A small splotch of red blood had begun to seep through the scrap of material she had wound around her hand. She swallowed down a wave of nausea - she had never been good with blood - and pushed open the door to the medical centre.