“Where’s Maria?” Gretta said at breakfast the next morning, looking around the kitchen.

“We’ve let her go,” her stepmother said, sipping her coffee. “You’re old enough to work a food printer.”

Gretta had been hoping for some of Maria’s excellent French toast. Suppressing a sigh, she dialed the breakfast settings and placed a bowl under the spout to catch a squirt of something that claimed to be raspberry-flavored vitamin oatmeal and milk.

Hans came clattering down the stairs. He looked at Gretta disconsolately poking her spoon at her bowl of slush. Stefania narrowed her eyes at him, and Hans hunched his shoulders a little and went to the machine.

“You know, Gretta, I’m feeling inspired by all your walking. Very healthy,” Papa said as he sipped his coffee. “After breakfast, I think we should go for a stroll in the woods.”

Gretta blinked at him. Papa hated the outdoors, not to mention spending time with his children.

“If you like, Papa,” she said cautiously. She raised an eyebrow at her brother. Hans, wisely keeping his mouth full, nodded vigorously in agreement.

Papa smiled at her, in a sickly sort of way. Maybe the reconstituted food wasn’t agreeing with him.

After breakfast, the twins waited by the front door for their father. Stefania came out of the kitchen and smiled at them.

“Aren’t you coming?” Gretta asked, looking at her stepmother’s high heeled sandals.

“I’d love to, darling, but my allergies are so terrible this time of year. Now, I want to make sure you two have some quality time with your father. He sees so little of you. I think it’s best if you leave your phones here, so you don’t get distracted.” She held out a hand tipped with long bright red nails. Reluctantly, the twins handed over their phones.

“Right!” Papa said, coming down the stairs. “Let’s go!” He led them out the main gates of the enclave and along the road for a kilometer. He stopped and looked around, as if to see if anyone was watching, before entering the forest on a poorly marked trail. He set a fast pace, striding along ahead of them.

“Papa,” Gretta pointed out, after twenty minutes of walking. “You just went off the trail. It’s back there.”

“Oh, we don’t need trails,” her father said, looking back at her. “We’re explorers! Now come on!” He waited impatiently until Gretta caught up with him, Hans trailing behind, and set off into the trees.

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“What’s that bird, Papa?” Gretta said, pointing.

“Where?” he said, looking up. Gretta reached into her pocket and then stuck her hand behind her back and waggled it at Hans.

“Oh, never mind, it flew off,” she said. Hans took the fluorescent-yellow marker pen from Gretta and fell back a little. As Gretta distracted their father by pointing out every interesting-looking toadstool and oddly shaped rock she could find, Hans would quickly mark trees as they passed.

“For Heaven’s sake, boy, pick up your feet,” his father said, turning around as Hans stomped and scraped his feet in every muddy patch.

They walked on for an hour, splashing through several small streams. Papa didn’t even look around now when Gretta pointed at a squirrel. He had pulled ahead of them, and stopped looking back. He came to a sudden halt in a clearing and the children nearly walked into him.

“This looks like a good spot for a break,” he announced, next to a fallen tree. “I tell you what, we should have a little fire. I’ve brought some marshmallows for us to toast.” He patted his pocket, which didn’t look like it contained a bag of marshmallows.

“Wait here while I collect some firewood, children. Stay right here, and don’t move!” He strode off into the trees without a backward glance, and was soon out of sight. The twins sat on the tree trunk in silence, listening to the wind and the calls of the birds. For a while, they stared in the direction their father had gone. Hans looked at his watch. Finally, he sighed.

“Much as I hate to admit it, you may be right. They are up to something.”

Gretta scowled. “This is the one time I really don’t want to be right.”

Hans picked at some moss on the log. “How long do you think we should give him?”

Gretta looked up at the crack of sky visible through the trees. “Well, it’s not raining. I’d say an hour should be sufficient.”

Hans slid down from the log and began poking around under a nearby fir tree. “There’s plenty of dry stuff under here. He wanted a fire, so we might as well make one.”

“You’ve got matches?”

“Even better.” He waved a lighter at her.

“I’m not going to ask what you’re doing with that,” Gretta said, scraping out a hollow in the ground with her boot.

“You never know when you might need to set something on fire in the boys’ dormitory. Hypothetically speaking, that is,” Hans said, coming back with an armload of sticks.

They crouched by the little fire, warming their hands, until Hans straightened up with a sigh. He checked his watch. Two hours had passed since their father left them. “You know, I fancy a hot chocolate. With marshmallows. Let’s go to the Happy Cow. My treat.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Gretta said. She politely turned her back as Hans put out the fire by urinating on it.

They followed Hans’s footprints and the little arrows he’d drawn on the trees back to the trail without much difficulty. At the edge of the forest, they paused to check for any traffic on the deserted road, then sauntered down the road to the enclave, and the little café just inside the fence. Frau Becker was more than happy to serve them pastries and hot chocolate. They took their time over their drinks.

“I don’t see any sign of anyone forming a search team,” Gretta said, looking out the window. She’d eaten two pastries and was considering another, but Frau Becker was sweeping the floor and giving them sidelong looks. She usually closed the café by mid-afternoon.

Hans got up. “Come on. I’m sure everyone is terribly worried about us by now,” he said.

“I doubt it,” Gretta said, following him.

The only people they saw on the way home was a solitary dog walker, who ignored them.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Hans whispered to her, as he opened the front door. They found their father in his study. He seemed startled to see them, but quickly recovered.

“There you are!” he said, smiling. “We were just about to send out a search party. You were gone when I came back with the firewood.” The twins exchanged glances.

“We waited for you for hours, Papa,” Gretta said. “We were worried you’d been eaten by a wild boar.”

Her father gave a faint laugh. He was looking rather pale.

“Well, no harm done. Now, run along children, I have work to do.”