I placed my head inside a horse’s neck. Deep inside that web of flesh, among the organs and bone, I saw a miniature town that was identical to ours. I saw Thaddeus and Caldor and Bianca and everyone else asleep in hammocks tied to the ribcage. I saw a little balloon carrying horses in a basket. I saw kites pushing clouds into a burning sun. And where the stomach was, I saw myself standing on a frozen river. Wind tunnels around my legs lifted my dress and pulled my hair toward the clouds. I could feel the cracking of ice against the bottom of my feet. Fish ate water and screamed for me to come down and have some tea, have some mint.

It will be called, my father said, a balloon.
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I said I understood the need to rebel and protect our town against February.
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Six Reports from the Priests 1. The Solution attempted to fly today. 2. They failed. 3. To hell with February, one member shouted. The rest cheered. They are a loud bunch. They wear bird masks. They throw apples through clouds. 4. The balloon collapsed on one side. The flames shot up. The flames spilled out and crawled across the field and up the birch trees, where flightless birds burned. 5. The snow continues to fall. 6. There has been talk of a war.
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I want to be safe. I want to live inside a turtle shell.

Я сказал горожанам, что война с Февралем необходима, как воздух, которым мы дышим. Если мы откажемся воевать, холод и серость накроют нас навсегда, будто бескрайнее одеяло из скал. Я предложил им вспомнить, каково это, держаться за руки с Маем. Я предложил им вспомнить, как звучат речки, бегущие под окнами спален, как плещется вода по августовским камням, как поют птицы в зелени веток, как собаки воют на равнине. Я предложил им закрыть глаза, забыть о снеге, тающем на лицах, и вспомнить, что они видели и чувствовали, когда просыпались поутру и солнечные лучи падали на их постели, на их голые ноги.