Neither Bauer nor Emmerich could think of an answer. A strange silence followed, and in that silence I saw that they were dreaming about warm milk now, just like I was. They walked with that dream, and it weighed them down. I could almost hear Bauer talking to himself, even though Emmerich was walking between us. As for Emmerich, he tripped and had to hold on to my arm. Their warm milk dreams made mine less painful. We came to a crossroads and wondered if it wasn’t time to consult the map. But it was inside Emmerich’s coat, and opening his coat would be like taking an ice bath. In the end, we settled on a path that went south, joking that it would be less cold down there. A pale sun hung in the sky, as distant and useless, it seemed to us, as a coin trapped under thick ice. Solitary trees stood in the fields. Haystacks too, round and covered with snow, under the aluminium sky. We’d found some of them inside the haystacks during the spring. Not us in particular – Emmerich, Bauer and me – but we knew that some had been found.
