Thesprotia, October 30, 1940 The shells whistled furiously over their heads and they, terrified, did not know how to react. […] Maro, pale from the hellfire that was emerging from the black clouds of the sky, held Konstantis tightly in her arms. She had nestled like a little bird under a tree and was trying to protect herself and the terrified child. She stroked his hair through his cloak and whispered softly: "I love you, Konstantis, I love you, my child. Don't be afraid." But in her mind came and nestled the terror; the terror and the injustice. She thought that at this time Eleni would have gotten out of bed, throwing off her covers. She would go outside and see a deserted and empty village. "She deserved it!" she said out loud, not caring that her child heard her. However, inside she knew that what they had done to the unfortunate woman was equivalent to death, both mental and physical. It was one of the few times Maro invoked God's help: "My God, make sure the evil doesn't fall on my head. It wasn't just my fault," she pleaded, and in her prayer, she tried to justify herself – and her actions. The mosaic of Confession is revealed and captivates…