The landscape was white like frozen waves smoke from farm chimney went straight only dispersed when meeting the upper sky. Ah, this innocence of virginal snow cold as nun's cell. The boy sat in the cow-shed warming his hands on the udder of a cow, later, he walked on snow so pure it made crushing the sound that broke the snow's ***** under his foot But there were tracks after hares, birds, wolverines, and the opportunistic fox. Blood in snow, like a sheet on a wedding night the sacrificing of the lamp sanctified by priest and church. The fox had caught a mouse that built a tunnel under the snow thinking it was snug and safe. A crow sits on a tree watches the scene with irony in it black eyes, afar someone calls him in for breakfast