Erwin dreams of snow.

He turns, expects to see Levi at his side. Levi is not there. Instead, a man, with long hair, pulled low at his nape. Dark hair. Large eyes. Standing almost to Erwin 's shoulder.

Tch,

he says,

there it is. You sure this is it?

This is it,

Erwin says.

I 'm sure of it. All the books say.

Ah,

the not-Levi replies,

well, if the books say.

Books never lie, after all.

Don 't be cynical, Levi.

The not-Levi-who-is draws his sword.

I don 't like it,

he says, shortly.

It 's making my neck prickle.

Yes,

Erwin agrees. He lifts his chin to stare at the sky. Snow is falling soft whorls. In front of them, a tree which rises all the way to the sky. Dead twigs crack beneath his boots.

Don 't,

not-Levi warns.

She will talk to me,

Erwin says.

She will not. Do not go,

not-Levi orders.

A long way to go for answers,