"In Germanic folklore as established by Jacob Grimm, Frau Holda or Holle is the supernatural matron of spinning, childbirth and domestic animals, and is also associated with winter, witches and the Wild Hunt. Her name is cognate with Scandinavian beings known as the Huldra and the völva Huld, and Jacob Grimm traced her to a goddess of Germanic antiquity."

Ludwig watched his brother drink happily with their customers, something the German man didn't agree with but caused the patrons of the bar to buy more. It was cold outside and all the men were huddled in the brightly lit bar, drinking until the cold did not affect them anymore.

The German man watched with steely blue eyes as he cleaned empty mugs in a sink by the tap. Suddenly, a man burst through the door, his thick brown beard speckled white with snow. "Stay inside," the man said, "A storm's coming." And, with that, the man disappeared once more into the icy white of the snow outside.

The elder brother laughed, shattering the silence that had fallen over the bar. His ruby eyes had begun to glaze over from the alcohol. Ludwig, however, had not taken so lightly to the warning.

"Don't let anyone out," he muttered to his brother as he too slipped outside, locking the door behind him for good measure.

Immediately, the breath left his lungs in a woosh of foggy air. He pulled his coat tighter to himself and peered in the darkness of the shape of the man. All he saw, however, was the shadowy figure of a woman standing at the head of a tall horse.

He called out to her as he picked his way through the snow, "Miss!"

But it was obvious she couldn't hear him, though he could hear her. A haunting melody drifted up through the snow-covered streets from the woman. There were words sung, but he only heard one line before stopping where he stood.

"Ich träumte letzte Nacht einen Traum, aus Seide und feines Fell."

He was unable to move, in retreat or otherwise, as the woman approached him. Long, (h/c) hair that had small, white flowers woven in. Her stunning (e/c) eyes trapped him where he stood, though the stern emotion seemed to melt from them as she approached the weary man.

A soft smile painted itself on her lips. "Return home, Ludwig. It's not safe yet."

And with that, she was gone.

It was only a few minutes later that another girl walked the streets where Frau Holda had just stood, but by now everyone was cleared from the streets and the Hunt had moved on.

You approached a brightly lit door and slowly opened it. It creaked on rusty hinges, alerting everyone inside of your arrival. You shook the white flakes of snow from your (h/c) hair and waited for the world to become visible again. After your eyes adjusted to the blinding light from various oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling, you were greeted by the sight of a passed out albino lying on a table, an empty beer mug in hand.

"Ignore him," you heard from behind you, "What can I get you to-"

But the man's question cut off when you turned to face him. Recognition seemed to shine in his steely blue eyes as he looked at you, but you had no idea why. You were new in Germany, only having arrived just before the storm. You'd spent your first few days with odd dreams of silks and furs, children, snow, tame animals, daisies, and, most of all, a strange German man with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

A name lingered on your tongue, as though you had said it mere moments ago. With a small laugh, you asked the man, "You wouldn't happen to know a 'Beilschmidt', would you?"

"J-ja. I would." He took a step closer to you. You stepped nearer to him. The two of you stood close enough to reach out and touch each other. Looking up into his blue eyes, you saw a strange glimmer of emotion in his eyes. "My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. It's an honor to meet you."

 He bowed down to you and a similar 'memory' flashed in your mind. A man identical to the one in front of you, a woman who appeared to be a reflection of you, the only difference being her (h/c) hair was a long curtain of hair draped over her shoulder as opposed to your (h/l) cut, a beautiful throne room decorated in furs and silver. A winter palace.

Back in the pub, the man had looked up from his bow and stared up at your regal looking face, also remembering the glimpse of the past, though, in his 'memory', the man was kneeling for a different reason. A silver band was slipped onto a slender finger, a gazebo covered in snow, a warm embrace.

He stood and closed the remaining distance between the two of you and wrapped his arms around you. You did the same, tears pricking in your (e/c) eyes for no real reason other than another 'memory' that the two of you experienced together. The woman sobbing, the man holding back tears, an army general begging for help. The two men left, but only one returned.

You pulled back just enough to see Ludwig's face and touched a hand to his cheek. "I thought I'd never see you again."

You rested your head back on his chest and closed your eyes, feeling peaceful for once.

"I dreamt a dream last night, of silk and fine fur."