Winter winds battered the weakly constructed walls and roofs of the barracks that night. Carter felt bad for the guards on night patrol, with only their coats and each other for protection. He watched several of them huddle close together as they walked along the fence. Despite the inadequacies of the barracks, at least he and the other prisoners didn't have to go outside the fence that night.

Unable to sleep, Carter found himself wondering about Lechner, who was back in his little room underground. Carter hoped that Lechner had stayed put this time, and that their talk earlier had convinced him that he had made the right decision in coming to Stalag 13. He was worried, but at the same time, he was confident that Lechner would still be there in the morning.

Sure enough, he was. Carter delivered Lechner's breakfast after morning roll call, and found the young German was sitting on his cot, legs drawn up and looking deep in thought. "Hey, buddy," Carter said. "Did you sleep alright?"

"I slept fine," Lechner replied. He took a cautious sniff of his food, a serving of oatmeal with just a pinch of sugar, before taking a bite. "Thank you."

Carter sat next to him. "Yesterday… Kinch was telling me that there's an organization of magic people, like you, fighting their own resistance. Apparently they've already sent someone to find you."

"Who are they?"

"They're called the League of Gentlemen Sorcerers and Lady Witches."

Lechner shook his head. "I have never heard of them. I did not talk to anyone aside from Landauer, and no one outside of the SS Sorcery Division would have known where to find me. I do not understand how they would have been able to get to me."

"We did discuss yesterday that it's possible the person they sent after you is a member of the German military. London didn't give any hints about who they are."

Lechner fell silent. He turned his oatmeal over with his spoon a few times before taking another bite. "That sounds like a reasonable hypothesis, but why would they want me?"

"It sounds like they want to help you. We do need someone to escort you to England, after all."

Lechner nodded a little. "If that is the case, I will accept their help. Do we have a clearer timeframe for this?"

"Not right now, no. The weather is supposed to be bad through Christmas. I know that doesn't make a difference to you, but I don't think whoever accompanies you will be able to handle it."

"I understand."

Carter offered a small smile. "Spending Christmas with us won't be so bad if it comes down to it."

"It will be my first Christmas alone. If… I am not receptive of your goodwill, it has nothing to do with you." Silence filled the tunnel for a moment. "I did not spend Christmas at home last year. I was with my unit, with the men who were killed in that explosion. This year, I am completely alone. No friends, no family."

"I'm sorry." Carter felt fortunate that his family was still alive and well back in the States. Hogan still had family. Kinchloe still had family. Newkirk lived in constant fear that he was going to lose everyone to an air raid, and LeBeau frequently worried that each letter he received from home in France could be the last, as his friends and relatives were active in the French Resistance.

"What happened was not your fault, Carter," Lechner said. "To be honest with you, I have a difficult choice to make next. I know I can completely change my identity in order to start anew, but… I feel that would be disrespectful to my parents' memory, and I do not know if it is something I would be able to process emotionally, not after so much loss. How can I just throw everything away?"

"I've seen a lot of people change their names and identities as they come through here. Frankly, I never thought about… the impact that could have on them. Most of them seemed happy to do it."

"I understand the reasoning, but I do not know if it would suit me."

"It would make you harder to find, and, I know this is going to sound harsh, but it's not like anyone will be looking for you after the war."

"All of that is true, but like I said, it would be disrespectful to my family, and in some ways, it would tell that Nazis that they won. It would say that they broke me."

"I never thought of it like that. No one is going to make you change your name if you don't want to."

"I appreciate you respecting my wishes. I was not expecting to be respected at all, considering I showed up in a German uniform."

"We have helped a few defectors in uniform, but occasionally, we've had people pretending they want to defect in order to make us reveal ourselves. I think it's the fact that you're… something supernatural that made everyone a bit keener in trusting you."

A small smile crossed Lechner's face. "Perhaps."

Carter glanced at his watch. "I should probably head back up. I'll come back soon, though."

Nodding, Lechner handed Carter his now-empty bowl, and lay down on his cot.

Veidt had managed to leave the hotel without saying a word to Kaschel, and headed to the Hammelburg Gestapo headquarters after a quick breakfast. He tried to look confident, although deep down, he wasn't at all certain this plan would even work. There was no way the Underground would trust him. I still have to try. I cannot think of anyone else in this area who may have a clue as to Lechner's whereabouts.

As he entered the Gestapo headquarters, Veidt took a final deep breath before putting on a colder, more confident expression. A young woman seated at a typewriter glanced up at him. "Can I help you, Hauptsturmführer?"

"Yes, I am looking for information regarding saboteurs in this area," Veidt said.

"Kriminalrat Hochstetter is in his office. I will let him know you are here." The woman stood, leaving her desk to knock on a door just down the hall. After a brief exchange, the door opened, revealing a short man with neatly combed dark hair and a thin mustache. He gestured for Veidt come in.

Hochstetter closed the door once Veidt had entered the room and sat down. "Please, make yourself comfortable." He took a quick glance at Veidt's armband. "The Sorcery Division. I know you by reputation, but have never had the pleasure of dealing with you until yesterday. Your commander, Standartenführer Kaschel called yesterday about a… missing experiment."

Veidt nodded. "That is correct, and although we appreciate the help, we would like to expand our search before our subject gets away again. I want to know about the Underground. I have a strong suspicion they may be helping the subject escape."

Hochstetter suddenly looked less amicable. "The Underground is an enormous thorn in our sides here. I would not be surprised if they have already spirited your subject away."

Veidt frowned. "Should we give up, then?"

"No. Never. I will give you all the leads you need. Maybe you will have better luck, given your division's specialty. There have been strange occurrences here, but never any of the magical or supernatural kind." Hochstetter lay a pile of thick folders on the desk. "If you are going to start anywhere, start with Stalag Thirteen."

Veidt raised an eyebrow. "The prisoner-of-war camp? Kaschel and I were there yesterday, questioning Colonel Klink and some of his guards. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary."

"Oh, on the surface, that camp looks ordinary." Hochstetter opened one of the folders, revealing the photograph of an American colonel, wearing a lopsided cap and an equally lopsided smirk. "I have long suspected this man is behind the majority of sabotage and disappearances that happen in this area."

"He is a prisoner, sir, how could he do anything at all in his position?"

"That, I am not certain of. Every time I find evidence of his involvement, it is erased, and I end up looking like a fool."

"Why not just arrest him?"

"That is what I am trying to do, but no one is willing to take this seriously. It is like you said, he is just a prisoner. What could he possibly be doing?"

"This probably won't yield any results, but I could try questioning him."

"Have it your way, Hauptsturmführer, but I will warn you—do not let your guard down around this man, or you will be made a fool as well. I would not be surprised if this search for your missing subject leads you to Stalag Thirteen."

"I suppose it already has." Veidt stood. "Well, thank you for your time, and the information. I am sure this will get us back on Lechner's trail in no time."

"I certainly hope so." There wasn't much confidence in Hochstetter's voice.

The Gestapo director's words stuck with Veidt as he left the building. He wondered if he would be making a big mistake by attempting to question Colonel Hogan. If even the Gestapo were being made fools by this man, he must be quite dangerous. Then again, perhaps it was paranoid delusion on the part of Hochstetter. Maybe Hogan wasn't involved with anything. Maybe it was one bad incident that had suddenly made Hochstetter think that Hogan was behind everything. It sure sounded like something an insane man would come up with.

But, perhaps there was a shred of truth in it.

During the monotony of clearing the snow that had buried the camp, Carter wondered what it would be like to be an ice Conjurus. What would it be like to be able to tolerate freezing temperatures that could kill a regular person? What would it be like to be able to generate ice with your hands? What would it be like to have that kind of power, or any magical power? Obviously, it would come with a lot of responsibility, as well as drawbacks. He would never be able to go to a tropical beach without feeling ill. He would never be able to take a hot shower or swim in warm water.

Carter imagined his thoughts would be different if he had been born with those powers. Lechner had lived his entire life with those conditions, and was content with them. No one could just become a magic user overnight, although he knew that the Nazis were trying to make that possible.

After shoveling out the motor pool for the second time that week, Carter and the rest of his group returned to their barracks, cold and yet covered in sweat. There was a lot of griping, until LeBeau said, "Hey, do any of you hear that?"

The griping stopped, and Carter felt a chill run down his already cold spine when he heard a tapping sound. It sounded like someone knocking on a window with a small, thin object.

The frosted windows made it difficult to see who or what it was, but a huge, dark shape was sitting outside Hogan's window. With a raised eyebrow, Hogan opened the window, revealing a raven with an envelope tied around its neck with a blue ribbon. The raven plucked the envelope from the ribbon, holding it out to Hogan.

"New mail service?" Hogan said.

"What is it, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"A bird just delivered a letter to me." Hogan opened the envelope. "It's in German." He cleared his throat as he translated out loud for the others. "'To whom it may concern, I understand this may be a bit of a far-fetched assumption, but if my information is correct, you are one of a handful of people who can assist me in this case. If you are willing to hear my story, I will be waiting for you at the base of the hill bordering the woods that surround Stalag Thirteen, but only until midnight.'"

"I don't like the sound of that," Newkirk said. "Sounds like a trap to me."

"It's either a trap or we just found our magic resistance friend," Kinchloe replied. "Witches do use corvids as couriers."

"If that's the case, I'll go meet with them," Hogan said. His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of his men. "Alone. There's still a chance that this is a trap, and I don't want any of you put in danger."

Carter opened his mouth to protest, but this time, he stayed silent. It wasn't the first time Hogan had done something like this, and he doubted it would be the last. He looked down at the floor, a knot of anxiety starting to build in his stomach, then glanced back up at Hogan. "Colonel, what should we do if this turns out to be a trap?"

"If I'm not back by morning, radio London. Any instructions they give you, follow to the letter. No heroics."

It was sunset when Veidt had left the hotel, narrowly avoiding Kaschel. He had been avoiding Kaschel all day, and it was beginning to wear on him. The next morning wasn't going to be easy. He knew Kaschel was going to ask what he had been doing, and Veidt hoped that he would buy his lies.

He had to lie every single day, whether it was to another person, or to himself, and he wasn't sure which was harder. It was wrong, though he knew he was lying to survive. When it came to lying to himself, though, he knew he had no excuse for that.

He lied every day to himself about being alright, about being happy. He looked in the mirror each morning and saw something broken, yet he told himself everything would be alright. He would smile, as part of his act, but every smile was laced with pain. You haven't done anything to deserve something as simple as smiling.

The sun had just sunk below the western horizon when Veidt sat against a snowbank rimming the woods. Through the winter nakedness of some of the trees, he could see the watchtowers of Stalag 13. The searchlights were slowly panning around the compound. He suspected the prisoners were confined to their barracks for the night by now. If everything Hochstetter said about Hogan was true, Veidt imagined that he would show himself quite soon.

An hour went by. Veidt was sitting with his legs drawn up, making himself as small as possible to conserve heat. His Walther P38 was in his left hand, ready to use at a moment's notice. Veidt was stiff and shivering, wondering when he would be able to go back to the warmth of his hotel room. He silently cursed himself for thinking that. Since when do I deserve something like that?

Veidt stood when he heard the sound of someone walking in the snow. He aimed his gun in the direction of the sound, then slowly lowered it when he saw Colonel Hogan approaching him. Hogan was armed as well, and kept his own P38 trained on Veidt's chest. Nervously, Veidt set his gun in the snow. "Colonel," he said. "I am a friend."

"You are going to have a hard time convincing me of that, Veidt."

I have a hard enough time convincing myself sometimes. "I am the one who sent the raven."

"Are you? Or are you holding the person who actually sent the raven as a prisoner?"

Veidt shook his head. "Please, I understand this does not look good, but I am asking—no, I am pleading you to listen."

Hogan sighed before holstering his weapon. "This will certainly be interesting."

A part of Veidt wondered if it would be best to turn and run. There was no way he was going to be trusted. I can still try. "I am sure you know I visited Stalag Thirteen in the past."

"Oh, I know, but that was before I was there. One of the others told me you were looking for magic folk."

Veidt nodded. "Things have changed in the last two years, and it is quite a long story. However, I feel I must explain myself before I get to the letter that I sent you earlier."

"Just make sure it does not take until morning."

"I promise, it will not." Veidt sat back down in the snow, taking a deep breath. "I am a member of the League of Gentlemen Sorcerers and Lady Witches, but I possess no magic. I am not a warlock and I am not a Conjurus. I am completely normal. A Magicless, as magic folk will call us. This is not unusual in the League; there are plenty of members who do not have magic but are members because they have family or friends in the group, or because they agree with their work. Anyway, I am not going to deny that I joined the SS because I wanted to. I was promised respect and validation, after always being the weakest, the quietest, and left out of everything. I was told I could be a part of something bigger, and I believed it.

"I believed it until I saw how much of my individuality it was going to take from me. I believed it until I saw how many lives I was ruining. I believed it until I saw someone stand up to Standartenführer Wahler, the former head of the division, for the first time. It was then I decided I needed to change, though I knew I was never going to erase everything I had done. I never will. I have to live with my choices for the rest of my life. I have to live with the fact that I dragged hundreds of prisoners-of-war, as well as guards, away to be tortured and mutilated. I have to live with the fact that I didn't walk away sooner." Veidt paused, looking down and hoping Hogan didn't see the tears in his eyes. "The League accepted me, when I proved I wasn't spying on them. They suggested I stay in the SS in order to spy on the Sorcery Division and collect as much information as I can on their projects, and so I did. That started in May of 1941. Since then, I have helped the League stay one step ahead of the Sorcery Division. Usually, I do my work from a desk. I listen to conversations and read documents, until Lechner escaped.

"When Lechner escaped, I informed my friends in the League. The man who recruited me, Captain Westheimer, runs a POW camp near Augsburg, Stalag VII C. Many of his guards and prisoners are magic. He suggested finding Lechner and bringing him to the camp. Lechner will be safe there. I can promise the Sorcery Division will never touch him again, so long as I am among its ranks."

Hogan nodded a little before looking down in thought.

Veidt panicked inside when Hogan didn't say anything in response for over a minute. "I went into this knowing it was highly likely no member of the Underground will trust me. I had to try. I cannot do this on my own."

"Well, you are right. I do not trust you."

Veidt tried not to look dejected. What did you expect? He stood, looking over his shoulder at Hogan. "I should be on my way, then."

"That does not mean I will not give you a chance. Just know that you are going to be kept at arm's length throughout this entire process."

"So, you will help me?"

"Maybe. Meet me back here at the same time tomorrow night, and we will discuss this further."

Veidt nodded a little. "You have my word, Colonel." He watched Hogan disappear into the woods, a potent mix of confusing emotions blending violently in his chest. He knew he wasn't going to be trusted right away, and was familiar with being treated like he couldn't be. That didn't mean he wanted to go through that again.

Carter was shaken awake by Newkirk when Hogan returned. A sense of relief flooded the barracks as the men gathered eagerly to hear what Hogan had learned.

"Well, so far, it didn't seem like a trap," Hogan said as he put his jacket back on. "That letter was sent by none other than Hauptsturmführer Kurt Veidt."

LeBeau scowled. "Then it's probably a trap."

"He claims he turned himself around in the last year or so. What we heard in Klink's office was a ruse. He only stayed in the SS because the League of Sorcerers asked him to in order to be a spy. I'm not pursuing anything until I get some confirmation on the stuff that he told me about." Hogan looked at Kinchloe. "Tomorrow morning, I want you to ask London about a Stalag VII C, based near Augsburg."

"Sure thing," Kinchloe replied. "Anything specific?"

"Veidt says the commandant there is a League member. I want to know if that's true."

"Did Veidt say why he's looking for Lechner?" Carter asked.

"He said he was tasked with bringing Lechner to Stalag VII C. A good portion of the guards and prisoners are magic, so it's some kind of safe haven for them. First, I want to make sure that's all true before we say anything to Lechner."

LeBeau shook his head. "Even if it is true, and we give Lechner to Veidt, how do we know he's actually going to bring Lechner there?"

"One of us will accompany him."

"I'll go." Carter stood.

"I'm surprised you don't want the ice chap to stay, given how much time you've been spending with him," Newkirk muttered.

"It would be nice if he could stay, but he would be cooped up in the tunnels all the time and never have a chance to go outside until the war ends, so, no, I don't want him to stay. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"If you want to go, Carter, you can," Hogan said. "We'll figure out the truth in the morning. Go get some sleep."

The group went back to their bunks. Carter lay awake for some time, deep in thought. Like everyone else, he was surprised that Veidt had been the one who sent that message, though it wasn't the first time they had worked with someone in a German uniform. After all, they had a German soldier hiding out in the tunnels. That certainly didn't mean everyone who came along asking for help could be trusted. There had been traps and betrayals before, and although Hogan had been able to fix things relatively quickly, there was an ever-present fear that next time, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Eventually, Carter fell into a dreamless slept. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when the barracks were roused for morning roll call. He went outside, into the cold, with the others to stand in the snow while Schultz counted them and confirmed they were all present and accounted for. As soon as they were allowed back inside, Kinchloe disappeared into the tunnels, and Carter followed with another bowl of oatmeal for Lechner.

Lechner hadn't complained about how he wasn't being given a lot of food, and Carter suspected it was because Lechner was used to starving. It was worrisome, as Lechner didn't seem as restless as anyone stuck underground for days on end would be. He seemed especially lethargic that day, and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Are you feeling alright?" Carter asked, handing Lechner the bowl.

"I am fine," Lechner replied.

"I don't think so. You look… very tired and your face has the color of someone who doesn't have your type of magic."

Lechner looked down at his lap, sighing. "I have not been feeling well since late yesterday. I did not say anything because I know you cannot bring me much of anything without attracting attention."

"If you're sick, we have to do something for you. Let Wilson look at you."

Another sigh. "Alright."

Wilson was only halfway done with his coffee when he was brought down into the tunnels. He tried to put on a less cranky expression when he followed Carter into Lechner's room, and set his bag on the floor before kneeling by the cot. Carter stood close by, noting Lechner's uncomfortable expression when Wilson took out some of his equipment.

"He's not going to hurt you," Carter said, reaching over to gently squeeze Lechner's hand.

"Nope, not a chance," Wilson added. He searched around his bag before finding a small notebook. "Open your mouth." When Lechner obeyed, Wilson put a thermometer under his tongue. He looked through the notebook while waiting for the thermometer to register, then took it out to read it. "Eighty-three," he muttered.

"Is that bad?" Carter asked.

"It's the equivalent to a moderately high fever in us." Wilson gently probed Lechner's neck. "Glands are a bit swollen. Open your mouth again—yeah, you're fighting something here, buddy. Your throat is very red. Anything hurt in particular?"

"My throat hurts a little. Other than that, I feel… tired," Lechner replied.

"Can you eat?"

Lechner nodded. "I don't want much right now, though."

"Alright." Wilson stood, gestured to Carter. "Come out in the hall so we can talk."

Carter followed him with a confused expression. "What? Is he gonna be alright?"

"With time, yeah, but I can't give him any antibiotics to help. The supply in the infirmary is heavily rationed—if any go missing, we're all in trouble. With how bad the weather has been, we can't get any air-dropped. We're going to have to let his illness run its course."

"What about stuff like tea or broth? Do we have that?"

"That's LeBeau's territory, not mine. I think that would help." Wilson glanced over in Lechner's direction. "I'll go tell the colonel. Staying with him would be a good idea."

Nodding, Carter went back into the room while Wilson returned to the barracks. Lechner slowly sat up, giving Carter space to sit with him. "Why did he wish to speak with you in private?" Lechner asked.

"We don't have any antibiotics to give you. There's some in the infirmary, but they're rationed. We would never be able to sneak any out, and we can't get any dropped in from London with the weather."

Lechner nodded a little. "I have dealt with far worse."

"We will do our best so that you don't have to suffer. You won't be alone."

Lechner smiled. "I cannot express how much I appreciate that."