When Hans awoke, the world was covered in ice. Cold, wet, unforgiving ice. The ice mirrored the feelings inside of Hans. Königin was not here to warm him. Hans looked down at his hands; they were bright red from the cold. As red as her blood the night he killed her... It had all happened so quickly: Leona crying, his hand striking her just as he had struck Königin, Leona's scream as she fell, all crowded inside his head. The Ultimate Nightmare. Hans blinked. Something lay in the street. Something small and flat. Hans picked it up and examined it. A sock?
Hans looked up the street to where an overweight man was walking slowly down the street, looking at the ground and muttering to himself. "I know I dropped it somewhere..." The man glanced up and, for a brief moment, the eyes of the two men locked. Then the moment passed and the little man did what most everyone did when they saw Hans: he ran away. Hans moved to chase him, but slipped and fell. As Hans sat up, he tasted blood. Tears welled up and began to fall. They mixed with blood from the cut lip and dripped bright red onto the snow.
A rough touch on his face made Hans open his eyes. There stood Königin licking away the blood and tears and whimpering softly. Hans could only wrap his arms around her neck and hold her. Slowly, the warmth from Königin's fur faded the cold, redness of Hans's hands.
