The wind whistled shrilly through the tree’s gray branches, and Yehudis’s teeth began to chatter even though her coat was warm.

“David, I’m scared to go there!” she whispered to her brother.

“I-if Chana lives there, it can’t be so bad,” David insisted as he pushed open the creaking old gate. “Besides,” he added, “Hashem protects people who go to do mitzvos.”

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