At the start of winter in 1809, a badly injured deserter from the Napoleonic Army arrives in a small town somewhere in the mountains, a location which will become the heart of the novel. Lives and secrets, passions and hopes collide over the course of a century and a half in the streets and pastures of this little town where there is no other magic than life; houses, squares, woods, sky, caves . . . a place where the air smells of snow and frost, where the winters are always long. Dreaming children, old people who do not want to forget, men and women enduring days dominated by winter. But all is not what it seems because, in this novel, the sum of these stories, which mingle like fallen leaves, Elvira Valgañon lets us see that beauty and mercy are the best resources when it comes to making life - and literature - a place to live.