but she did not resist. On the contrary, she seemed eager to reward Aaron for bringing her to a shelter whose very walls, floor, and ceiling were made of food.

Through the window Aaron could catch a glimpse of the chaos outside. The wind carried before it whole drifts of snow. It was completely dark, and he did not know whether night had already come or whether it was the darkness of the storm. Thank God that in the hay it was not cold. The dried hay, grass, and field flowers exuded the warmth of the summer sun. Zlateh ate frequently; she nibbled from above, below, from the left and right. Her body gave forth an animal warmth, and Aaron cuddled up to her. He had always loved Zlateh, but now she was like a sister. He was alone, cut off from his family, and wanted to talk. He began to talk to Zlateh. “Zlateh, what do you think about what has happened to us?” he asked.

“Maaaa,” Zlateh answered.

“If we hadn’t found this stack of hay, we would both be frozen stiff by now,” Aaron said.

“Maaaa,” was the goat’s reply.

“If the snow keeps on falling like this, we may have to stay here for days,” Aaron explained.

“Maaaa,” Zlateh bleated.

“What does ‘maaaa’ mean?” Aaron asked. “You’d better speak up clearly.”

“Maaaa, maaaa,” Zlateh tried.

“Well, let it be ‘maaaa’ then,” Aaron said patiently.

“You can’t speak, but I know you understand. I need you and you need me. Isn’t that right?”

“Maaaa.”

Aaron became sleepy. He made a pillow out of some hay, leaned his head on it, and dozed off. Zlateh, too, fell asleep.

When Aaron opened his eyes, he didn’t know whether it was morning or night. The snow had blocked up his window. He tried to clear it, but when he had bored through to the length of his arm, he still hadn’t reached the outside. Luckily he had his stick with him and was able to break through to the open air.