A thick white shroud covered the small village’s elaborate wooden houses. They looked like giant mushrooms scattered among the compact mantle imposed by Mother Nature. Long stalactites, clinging to the roof logs, testified to the intense cold that paralyzed the place. Even the street lamps with gas burners were turned off, their diffusers completely frozen. A leaden silence reigned over the hamlet, enveloping it in an unhealthy atmosphere. The trees were bending under their heavy burden without dropping the slightest flake. They seemed unwilling to leave this illusory protection, on the lookout for a hypothetical danger.
Rempert walked without difficulty on the snow, his feet barely touching its surface. He held an ornate box tight against his chest, like an inestimable treasure. The land
