Ice and snow still clung to the landscape, a frozen blanket, impenetrable, endless. The thaw was weeks, perhaps months away. Bartholemy woke and stared towards the ceiling. Thin wisps of smoke clung to the cross beams, holding his attention and he studied them, fascinated by how they swirled and drifted but never appeared to dissipate totally. The room needed air. For too long they had shuffled about in the confines of the place, huddled in thick animal pelts, the fire roaring, the woman sometimes venturing outside. Despite his requests, she would not allow him to accompany her. Her eyes would narrow, her hand gripping him by the collar, “You stay here, my lovely. I do not want anyone to know you are here.” Anyone? The ramshackle small holding nestled in a small valley, surrounded by thick
