Rauhnacht, as told by a Grimm

In the deep midwinter, when the year holds its breath and the winds comb the forests like a grey-bearded barber, there comes the Rauhnacht. It is a liminal span, neither old year nor new, when hearth-embers glow like watchful eyes and folk dare not whistle after dusk, lest something whistles back. Cattle are given a braid of bread, doors are chalked against the wandering host, and the house is swept sunwise so no ill-meaning sprite may nest in a corner. Dreams in these nights are said to step over the threshold of the morrow, and what one sees in sleep may thread the loom of fate. Best, then, to keep a clean conscience, a steady candle, and a sprig of juniper to hand – for in the Rauhnacht the world is thinner than paper, and every tale is almost true.

Release(d): in 2026 … still a work in progress.