The flakes were so sparse that one had to be looking for them in order to find them, yet they seemed to emphasize the point that the glistening powder covering the ground made. The wind, thankfully, was very light this evening; still, a lone traveler along Blau Street pulled up the collar of her coat as her very un-lady-like boots crushed the frozen water crystals beneath their treads. Her hands seemed almost frozen, their pale flesh thin and bony. These were not hands that were poorly cared-for, however; the nails were neatly trimmed and clean, and there were no calluses upon her fingers. Despite this, the breeches she wore were clearly not the typical attire of a young woman drifting through the streets of Mittenwald, nor should a woman have been traveling alone through those streets at this hour anyway.<br/><br/>She had some cash this evening. A Volkspolizei had stopped her to ask what she had upon her lip. It had been painful but she had come up with the idea to wear an earring upon her lip just to piss people off; it was something nobody but her would understand, she figured, and people did not like what they did not understand. That was probably why anyone with a Jewish name or family had to wear a yellow star now. She wondered what the Nazis would do to the Jews next. Personally, she couldn’t care less, except that she’d bought this coat from a Jewish woman the day before she’d been told to don such a star; now she wasn’t allowed to go into the woman’s shop. She had anyway, of course - just usually when the Volkspolizei and anyone who<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>give a damn wasn’t around.<br/><br/>But she was off on a moose trail. Her thoughts returned to the officer telling her to take off the lip ring. She fondly recalled removing the cigarette from between her pale pink lips, resting it between the middle and ring fingers of her left hand - a rather unique method of holding a cigarette, as most people held it between the forefinger and middle finger. She’d blown smoke in his face, and he’d hit her hard enough to throw the cigarette into the snow and her onto the ground.<br/><br/>He didn’t even remember her face now. She’d made certain of that after she’d returned his slap with one of her own - and she hadn’t even physically touched him. She would have smiled if it wasn’t so cold right now. If there was one thing she was good at - other than getting rid of obstacles in her path (the hard way, though it wasn’t all that difficult for her) - it was making sure nobody remembered her if she didn’t want them to.<br/><br/>She stopped and pulled out a pack of cigarettes now. She had only three left; she’d have to buy more. A quick look around told her that she was about a block from the Hotel Schiffmeister. They would have some packs at the bar, she knew; they always had a few extra to sell. She pulled one out and put the pack away, replacing it in her hand with a silver lighter as she graced her lips with the cigarette; a flick of the cover and a spark of flint striking steel brought forth the much-welcomed heat, minimal though it was, of a dancing orange flame. A couple of puffs was all it took to get the cigarette going; then the lighter was gone again and her feet were moving once more.<br/><br/>There were a<span style="font-style: italic">lot</span>of autos parked at the Hotel tonight. She didn’t like the look of that. Large groups of autos meant Nazis, and Nazis meant trouble for a brown-eyed girl with messy dark hair who could pass for a boy but still sounded like a girl - especially one that liked to piss off the Volkspolizei. She’d lifted her shirt to one of them the other day, and the resultant chase had given her a laugh and some warmth as the Volkspolizei desperately tried to catch the lithe young woman. They didn’t run very well in those boots of theirs, she had noticed.<br/><br/>A girl had to get some fun somehow.<br/><br/>It was an unusual thing to be so care-free. Most of the women and many of the men in the town were very reserved and conservative. They didn’t trust anyone, and people who were a little more friendly than someone thought they should have been ended up getting arrested. Most of them wound up right back where they started - but not all of them. She didn’t like to think about where those who didn’t come back ended up.<br/><br/>When she came upon the entrance to the hotel, her eyes roll over the various autos. Most were Cadillacs, although there were a few imported Fords and even a Heinkel. The Heinkel made her stop for a few moments; they were a rare auto to see, for Heinkel mostly made flugzeuge. There weren’t any air strips around here, however, and there were barely any roads except for the main thoroughfares of the city. Had she known anything about autos, she probably could have made a lot of money from the sale of that car. All one needed was some petrol and a buyer. The Volkspolizei that had attacked her earlier today had generously provided her with all of the marks in his pockets, though, and he barely remembered his own name now.<br/><br/>It wasn’t wise to assault someone who could rip the memories right out of your brain.<br/><br/>She moved on. She wanted a drink and to see if there was work for her tonight.