The run had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit, but I didn't slow until the smell of smoke and boiled grain finally reached me through the cold.
By then my paws were burning with every step, the skin worn thin from frozen ground and broken stone, still I kept going until the trees gave way and the camp came into view.
It spread across the land in the gray light of early morning, quiet but not empty. Most of the men were still asleep, their tents low and still, but the banners told me where to go. Stark colors marked the northern side, easy to follow even through the haze.
I didn't bother hiding, with the guard near the edge too busy with the cold, rubbing his hands together and breathing into them, his attention on himself rather than his surroundings. I passed close enough to hear him mutter to himself, but he never looked down.
Inside, the camp felt different. Horses changed in their position, leather creaked, and somewhere a man coughed in his sleep.
After a while, I found Ned near his horse, already awake, already working, checking the straps on his saddle. There was no rush in what he did, just the motions of his daily life.
I slowed my approach, more because my body demanded it than anything else stepping into his view, not making a sound stopping a few paces away and lying there.
He noticed immediately.
His hands stilled on the strap, and for a moment he didn't move. His eyes stayed on me, then moved past me toward the road leading north, as if expecting to see something else behind me.
When his gaze returned, it had changed.
"Red?" he said quietly letting go of the reins and walking toward me, boots pressed into the frost as he closed the distance. He knelt near me, his hand on my shoulder, checking the injury before anything else.
He felt the heat, then the rough edge of the wound, his expression tightened, but only slightly.
"You've come a long way," he said while keeping his voice low. "You shouldn't be here."
I held his gaze, letting him see what he needed to see. He saw what he needed to as a moment later he stood calling out, "Jory."
Jory came over at a quick pace, slowing his pace when he saw me stopping a step short, looking me over. "Red?" he asked, frowning. "How in the world did it get here?"
"He followed us," Ned said.
Jory glanced down at my paws, then back up. He spoke in disbelief, "That's no short distance."
Ned didn't answer that. His attention stayed on me."Find a man riding north," he said. "Send Red back."
Jory nodded and stepped forward, reaching for me.
"Come on, then. Enough of this."
I didn't move,even when his hand caught my scruff, I moved just enough to slip free without force and turned away from him, heading toward the wagons instead. I could feel his confusion behind me, but I didn't stop.
The wagon marked with the Hand's seal stood where I expected. I jumped up into the back and settled in between crates and bundled furs, the wood hard beneath me. I looked at Ned.
Jory followed up a second later, in a less patient tone, "Down," he said, reaching again.
I didn't resist with teeth or sound. I simply leaned away, holding my ground, keeping my attention on Ned instead of him, while Jory tried again, putting more effort into it.
It didn't work. After a moment, he let out a breath and looked back.
"He's set on it," he said. "Won't budge."
Ned stepped closer to the wagon, his gaze moving over me slowly. He took in the state of my paws, the wound, the way I held myself.
There was no confusion left in his expression now, only thought.
"He ran the whole way," Jory added. "Look at him."
"I see him," Ned said.
He rested his arms on the edge of the wagon, not crowding me, just close enough to say, "I left you for Bran," quietly. "That hasn't changed."
I leaned forward slightly, resting my head against the crate unmoving, while he watched me for a long moment, then exhaled, "Leave him."
Jory looked at him. "M'Lord?"
"I said leave him."
That was enough for Jory to step back.
Ned reached in and set his hand on my head, firm and brief.
"You've made up your mind," he said. "I won't fight you on it."
He straightened and looked toward the south, where the road stretched out beyond the camp.
"If you've come this far, you'll see the rest."
The camp stirred soon after.
Men woke, horses were brought forward, and the slow movement of the column began again. The wagon moved beneath me as it joined the line, wheels turning back onto the road.
I stayed where I was.
The pain in my body didn't leave, but it faded into something I could manage.
Winterfell was behind me now.
The road ahead was what mattered.