narration by [Alexander Scourby.]
In a remote Austrian Alps lodge, an unnamed woman travels with two friends, Hugo and Luise, and their loyal dog Lynx. They’re drawn to a secluded hunting retreat where the alpine silence seems to press in from every side. Soon after they arrive, Luise convinces Hugo to accompany her to a nearby village pub, leaving the woman, the dog, and the memory of their plans behind.
The next morning brings a disturbing silence: Hugo and Luise never return. The woman sets off on foot toward the village, with Lynx close by, hopeful yet anxious. As she moves along the road, an inexplicable, invisible wall halts her progress. Time and space feel distorted as she cannot pass this barrier, even after repeated attempts. Desperation grows when she turns back toward the lodge, the dog faithfully following, only to encounter the same strange limit again. Her curiosity leads her to a farmhouse she glimpses through the barrier, where a couple and others appear frozen in time, unable to greet or acknowledge her.
Back at the lodge, a creeping despair settles in. From a distance she surveys the landscape with binoculars and concludes that the people she’s seen—those in the farmhouse and the village—must be dead. In the face of isolation, she forms a fragile routine: she takes in a stray cow she names Bella, nursing and milking her, seeing in the animal both a blessing and a burden. The cow becomes a constant companion as she contemplates survival in this altered world.
Her resolve is tested when she tries to drive Hugo’s car toward the village, hoping the vehicle might breach the barrier. The car collides with the invisible wall, restoring no passage and deepening her sense of confinement. Yet she pushes forward with a stubborn practicality: she plants potatoes, searches for food, and measures time by crossing off days on a calendar that remains a fragile remnant of her former life. A stray cat joins the household, bringing small moments of warmth, while Lynx remains her steadfast friend amid hardship. To endure, the woman must engage in hunting for food, a brutal necessity in a world stripped of ordinary support.
A pivotal change comes when she hikes to another lodge in a high mountain pasture. The warmth of the sun, the beauty of the mountains, and the birdsong offer a rare, healing respite. During this time, the cat gives birth to a white kitten whom she names Pearl. The season’s labor culminates in a harvest of hay, a rare sense of productivity, and a brief breath of peace. But nature is fickle: Pearl dies in a wind storm, an early reminder of how fragile life remains in this isolated realm. On 5 November, she begins writing what she calls her “report,” turning the back pages of old calendars and stationery into a growing record of her life.
Winter arrives with a bite, and the landscape grows white and still. On 11 January, the cow Bella gives birth to a calf, a sign of continuity in a world otherwise defined by absence. As the months pass, the woman grows weary and contends with the deadening cold that gnaws at her spirit. By 25 May, after a year at the lodge in the narrow valley, the animals and she depart once more, moving up to the mountain pasture where summer brings a sense of renewal and light. For the first time in her life, she experiences a moment of calm, described as if “a big hand stopped the clock” in her head. The change feels transformative, as if her newer self is being absorbed into a greater whole.
In October she returns from the pasture and resumes the writing of her report. Winter and spring cycle again, and a white crow appears—an outcast among the black birds—symbolizing the estrangement from her past. Gradually, the woman begins to detach from former memories. In June, she and the animals again return to the pasture, yet something has shifted; the familiar sense of elation is no longer hers to claim. A violent intrusion breaks the fragile equilibrium: a strange man murders Bella’s bull calf with an ax, and when Lynx tries to intervene, the dog is killed. The woman acts with cold resolve, shooting the aggressor and rolling his body over a cliff before burying Lynx in a deep grave. The next morning, she and Bella leave the pasture behind and descend into the narrow valley once more.
As autumn arrives, she and the animals harvest potatoes and fruit, bracing against another winter that looms ahead. By 25 February, with the supply of paper exhausted, she must conclude her written record. Through cycles of scarcity and small, stubborn acts of care—for the cow, the dog, the cat, and the memory of the life she once inhabited—the woman forges a tether to humanity in a world that feels both timeless and perilously fragile. The final pages of her account close as she penetrates another winter and then another spring, leaving her with a sense of endurance that is at once practical and contemplative, a witness to a life redefined by isolation and quiet transformation.
