The Aegean churned. Snow dusted the little island. The cloud armies had rolled on to other battles, and the battlefields over the Aegean rested, not even whispering. All around, the only light was the dim ambient glow of the cold stars, reflecting off the fresh, porous snow that muffled all sound, even the roar of the sea.
A young woman’s cry sprang from the island and hardened the freshly fallen snow. Kerosene light spilled through the window and doorway of a little house down by the cemeteries, and the gliding shadow of a rook flashed across the yellow beam. Other lights sprang out from the isle, one by one, as if to reply.
At the foot of the door, a heavy cloth hit the hard earth with a damp smack and bled out into the snow. The frail cries of newborn infants broke through the night. The woman’s cries fell silent, and she was not heard again.