Although it was past noon, an icy cold persisted in the French countryside surrounding Paris. The community that had formed around Mathieu and his farm was progressing slowly along a small rural road bordered by bare trees and wild grass that seemed petrified by the frost. Having left at dawn, the group advanced in silence, concentrating on each step.

They were escorted by Leto and Soda, the brave dogs of the community. They were perhaps the only ones enjoying this morning walk. They led by a few meters, stopping here and there to sniff invisible traces or mark their territory.

Mathieu led the way, followed closely by Jérôme and his wife Léa, along with their children Baptiste, Kévin, Justine, Sylvie, and Lucas. Stéphanie and Marie were behind, followed by Fatima and Amin. Olivier and his wife Emma brought up the rear, adjusting their pace to that of their charming daughter, Zoé.

This walk was a real challenge for the child, but it was also difficult for the older children, who were not used to such a long walk.

Shit! My feet hurt! I already had blisters! I'm sure they've burst!

Stéphanie kept silent so as not to appear weak in front of the others. However, she did everything she could to relieve her sore feet, even if it meant walking strangely.

She recognized a large sign above her that used to inform drivers heading to Meaux to continue straight. It wasn't this city the small community wanted to reach, but another much more modest one on the same road.

They ignored the exit on their right and continued their route through another town that seemed pleasant to live in. The place was called Claye-Souilly and was split in two by the national road they were traveling on. It didn't take a genius to guess that these were two very close towns that had merged when they expanded to form a single entity.

After passing it, after a few tens of minutes of walking, they arrived at an exit. On Mathieu's instruction, they ventured there, breathing a deep sigh of relief when he told the group that they were almost there.

The road had suddenly become quite narrow. This was a very relative statement, as there were two lanes. For them, who were on foot, it was an immense boulevard stretching over several hundred meters.

On either side were fields and wooded areas. Stéphanie supposed there were wild animals there that could be hunted. At least, that's what a sign they passed suggested, warning drivers not to be surprised to find a deer or a wild boar on the road.

Stéphanie and the others hadn't seen even a shadow of one.

They arrived in Précy-sur-Marne in the early afternoon, but because it was late December, there were only a few hours of daylight left. They didn't go unnoticed with their suitcases and large bags of food.

They had loaded themselves like oxen, and it didn't matter if it slowed them down significantly because they assumed that everything they didn't take would be lost.

Of course, they could have made several trips, divided the community into two teams so that there was always a group at the farm, but this option was quickly dismissed since they rightly estimated that the probability of one of them being attacked was too high.

Leaving the farm had been particularly painful for the youngest, especially with the biting cold that chilled them to the bone. Even the birds seemed to want to stay warm in their nests.

The group was welcomed by the village mayor, Denis Leblanc, who wished them a warm welcome and a happy new year. Indeed, this day was a special one since it was January 1st. Like Mathieu, the mayor of this commune had been very diligent in keeping the calendar up to date.

Unlike the mayors of large cities, this man was very simple and did not wear a suit. This simplicity was also reflected in his way of speaking. He didn't try to use complex words and got straight to the point. From what Stéphanie had heard last time, he was originally the owner of a furniture store.

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The greetings were quite warm without dragging on. The mayor knew they had traveled a long way to get here and suspected they were very tired. They were then led to their new accommodation.

As they had been told, there were no more available houses to accommodate them. The houses that were for sale at the time of the blackout were all occupied by at least two families, and the locals were not very enthusiastic about the idea of hosting strangers in their homes. Like the other refugee families, Mr. Leblanc had told them to temporarily settle in the only school in the village, which was also the town hall.

From the outside, it looked like an ordinary house. The word "MAIRIE" was simply written on the facade, and a French flag hung limply next to it.

The newcomers were taken upstairs to the dimly lit attic. Despite the insulation panels, the cold had found a way to infiltrate this large room where one had to lower their head to avoid bumping into the beams supporting the roof. They would have to huddle together for warmth.

The only positive point Stéphanie found was that their small community didn't have to share this room with strangers.

This solution was only temporary, as they had been told and repeated, since they were expected to vacate the room quickly, possibly to accommodate other refugees. They would have to build their own house on the outskirts of the village, on the land bought by Mathieu. Everyone was aware of the magnitude and difficulty of the task, but they had no choice.

The land in question was south of the village, between the last houses and the Marne. Stéphanie had seen it the day Mathieu bought the land.

Moving in was painful because the building was unheated and lacked the natural warmth found at Mathieu's. This wasn't a living place.

Stéphanie looked around and made a disappointed face. The place seemed to her like an old dusty attic.

So this is where we're going to live until we have our own house?

Like her sister and the other members of her community, her second family, she laid her belongings on a small mattress that was too thin for her liking, placed directly on the floor. It seemed clean but worn from years of use. Everyone had their own mattress, offered by the villagers, spread out on either side of the room, leaving a corridor in the center for easy passage of the occupants.

I'm starting to think it wasn't a good idea to come here. There's no privacy. At Mathieu's, Marie and I had a room.

After dropping off their belongings, or at least what was left since a significant part had ended up with Joseph Martin, the one who had sold them the land for almost nothing, the group went to discover their new land.

There were three plots which, once combined, made a little over 60,000 m² (about 646,000 square feet). It was roughly half of what Mathieu owned before abandoning everything to come here. Even though the sense of loss that everyone shared, except for Zoé who was too young to understand, was real, they had to recognize that a larger area would have represented too much work for them. The days were too short to accomplish all the tasks they had assigned themselves there.

We should be able to manage here. The land seems of good quality and there's a watercourse right next to it.

The young girl, whose hair had grown significantly since the power cut and was gradually returning to its original color, turned to the houses slightly elevated above them. In case of flooding, she thought, they would be underwater long before their ankles were wet.

In this village, there was a carpenter and a mason. These two people were very busy at the moment, despite the season, as they were trying to design the village's future mill. The mason still took the time to go see the new arrivals to ask if he could help them.

He was clearly a good man. He exuded, according to Stéphanie, the same energy as Mathieu. He immediately seemed sympathetic and trustworthy.

He was quite tall and thin, about fifty, and wore a thick red hat that exposed ears almost as red. His eyes were cheerful, and his mouth was as thin as a letterbox slot.

"Thank you for your support, Mr. Dacosta," said Mathieu, extending a large calloused hand. "We will indeed need your help as well as Mr. Voltini for all the 'wood' part of our future house, but also the warehouse."

"No problem. Unfortunately, there are other families, so I can't be everywhere at once. For now, it's too cold to work. If I make concrete in this weather, it will be of very poor quality. We'll have to wait at least until February. Sorry."

So long? We'll have to stay at the town hall for two months?! Ah, no, I'm stupid. He said he could start in two months. How long does it take to build a house?

"February… I see," murmured Mathieu with disappointment, certainly expecting to have a roof over his head upon arriving in Précy-sur-Marne.

"But maybe Laurent can start your warehouse? If you build it with wood, he can start right now. After all, we're still trying to figure out how to handle this mill. Can you start working the land now?"

"Just the plowing. Nothing will grow if we sow now. At best, I can start sowing barley in mid-February."

"Barley? To make bread?"

"No, that would be more with wheat flour. Barley could be eaten as porridge, I suppose? Or to feed farm animals. I'll have to discuss with Mr. Martin to know how he worked these lands the previous year. For crop rotation."

"Okay. Well, if you want, come with me. He'll probably be there with Laurent Voltini. Oh, I forgot, welcome to Précy-sur-Marne and happy new year."