Bran's breathing was the only thing in the room that proved he was still alive.
It came slow and uneven, quiet enough that you had to watch for the rise of the furs instead of listening for a sound. Once you focused on it, the rest of the chamber seemed to fall away. The cold of the North tried to creep in through the stone, but I wouldn't let it reach him.
I stayed at the foot of the bed, pressed against the blankets covering his legs. I didn't move more than I had to. The heat from my body spread through the layers of wool and skin, . Time to time I adjusted my weight slightly, making sure the warmth covered his feet, which felt like ice beneath the covers.
Maester Luwin came in and out through the day. His chain made a soft clicking sound whenever he moved. He checked Bran the same way each time. Careful hands, steady eyes, never rushing even though there was nothing new to find.
On the third day, he paused.
His hand rested near my flank, his fingers still as he felt the temperature of the bedding. "He is still warm," Luwin whispered. He looked toward the window, where the light was gray and weak.
Catelyn didn't turn. She sat in that chair as if she'd been carved from the same stone as the walls. Her attention was remain pinned to her son. "The direwolf is outside, howling for him," she said, her voice dry and distant. "And this one... he won't even go to the kitchens to eat."
Luwin's hand moved against my fur, a brief, thoughtful pressure. "It is a mercy, My Lady. The chill often settles in the limbs when the spirit is far away. This creature is fighting the death-chill for him. He is keeping the blood moving."
I didn't look up. I kept my eyes on the boy's chest. In the world I came from, we had machines to do this. Here, there was only me and the heat in me.
After a while, Catelyn moved. It was a small change, the rustle of her dress against the wood, but then her gaze moved to me. It wasn't the distant look she usually gave the animals. She reached out, her hand unsteady, and let it rest on my head.
"Why do you stay?" she asked softly.
I didn't have an answer that would make sense to her. I couldn't explain the logic of a plot or the fact that I knew what was coming for this family. I just let out a slow breath and leaned into her touch, a simple, grounding contact. She didn't pull away. Her fingers moved through my fur in a slow motion to keep herself from breaking.
"He loved to climb," she murmured to the empty room. "I told him... I told him a hundred times."
I stayed silent. Some memories didn't help when spoken aloud.
The Departure
Time lost its meaning. Day and night became a single, blurred cycle of shadows and candlelight. I didn't sleep deeply. Part of my mind stayed pinned to the door, tracking the footsteps in the hall and the muffled voices of the household.
Ned came before the sun was up on the day he was meant to leave.
He didn't announce himself. He just stepped into the room and stood by the bed, his heavy traveling cloak smelling of frost and his scent. He looked at Bran first, his face drawn tight, the weight of the south already bowing his shoulders. Then his gaze found me.
He didn't speak for a long time. When he did, the words were short.
"Watch him."
I met his eyes. I didn't move, and I didn't bark. The look we exchanged was enough. He reached down and gripped my shoulder, his hand firm for a brief second, then he straightened and walked out. The door clicked shut, and the room felt emptier than it had a moment before.
Outside, the direwolf howled. It was a long, jagged sound that carried across the courtyard. It wasn't random. It knew the pack was splitting.
I lowered my head, my eyes half-closed but my ears tracking the fading sound of horses. The heat in my chest stayed strong. If someone came through that door with a blade, they wouldn't find a helpless boy. They would find me.
The blue light of the system flickered at the edge of the dark.
[Title Updated: The Silent Sentry]
[Effect: Increased detection of hostile intent within the immediate vicinity.]
[Status: Vigilant / Level 9]
Tomorrow, the assassin would come. And I would be ready.