Another gloomy autumn night. The sky hung low with black clouds, not a single star in sight.
The future Night's Watch recruits Yoren had scraped together from the slums and dungeons of King's Landing grumbled nonstop while they made camp.
Some begged the Father not to let it rain tonight. Others cursed him straight into the Stranger's abyss. A few just cursed everything under the sun.
Arya Stark helped Gendry build the fire.
Gendry kept striking the flint, trying to spark a flame, while she hunted for dry wood. The rain seemed determined to spite them.
"Arry, rest if you're tired," the boy said, setting the flint down for a moment.
"I'm fine." She answered automatically, long used to the false name. "If the fire won't catch, I can't rest easy anyway. Put some muscle into it."
"Then you'd better find branches drier than the bottom of the Blackwater."
"Seven hells!" the man called Crow spat. "How much farther to the Twins? At this rate we'll sink into the mud and feed the fish before we ever get there."
Arya understood his frustration completely.
She used to think the royal procession moved too slowly. Now she knew how naive that had been.
This Night's Watch column was barely crawling through the riverlands.
The moment they left hateful King's Landing, Yoren had led them off the main roads and away from castles, sticking to lonely paths.
"The realm's gone mad," she had heard him say. "Now we have to watch for mad lions. No one can protect us. One wrong step and we're finished."
That was why the journey from King's Landing to these ruins had taken forever.
Sometimes they camped in the same spot all day. Sometimes they wandered lost on trails even Yoren didn't know. Sometimes they deliberately took the long way around.
Tonight they sheltered in an ancient ruin on a hillside.
Old Crow had chosen the spot for the usual reason—not for the moss-covered stones or the crumbling tomb in the distance.
Everything was for safety.
"Stop complaining, Hatchet," Arya heard the recruiter's low voice. "We're not far from the Blue Fork. Once we reach it, the Freys will take us in. Lord Walder may be a crusty old bastard stuffed with shit, but he's never turned the Watch away."
Lord Walder Frey…
Arya remembered how she had once planned to reveal herself to some riverlands lord and beg for an escort to her mother and brother.
Then Yoren's group had run into knights flying the golden lion banner.
They had shared wine with the passing crows and loudly bragged about the Battle of the Whispering Wood.
One smug little knight described in vivid detail how her mother had fainted after being taken prisoner.
Arya had nearly lunged at him. Only Yoren stamping hard on her foot had stopped a fight that could have gotten them all killed.
Since then, Arya barely spoke to anyone except Yoren and Gendry.
She had lost interest in war talk, old stories, and the criminals' endless bragging.
Even hearing they were about to pass a castle stirred nothing in her now.
What good would revealing her name do?
Her father had been executed. Robb was dead. Her mother was a captive.
What lord wouldn't rush to hand her over to the Lannisters for royal favor?
She could only keep heading north and pray that Bran and Rickon were still alive, that they could give her somewhere to hide.
"The world's changed, Yoren," a new recruit muttered. "Who knows what that old man will do now?"
"Not who knows. I know," the old crow shot back. "He'll make us kiss his lordly arse and curse our ancestors back eight generations, but he'll let us through in the end. Thirty years I've been dancing this dance with him. I know the steps."
Gendry finally coaxed a spark. The flame caught and grew.
Just in time. The sun had sunk behind the trees and the cold came rushing in.
Arya hurried closer to the fire. At least they had plenty of wood.
It would warm up soon. Maybe she could finally close her eyes for a while.
"You should eat something," the boy said quietly. "Truth is, I'm starving too."
"We still have meat," Watt said, settling down beside them. "The stuff we traded at the rookery…"
"Ha! What meat?" Gendry snapped. "We divided the last of it yesterday. Two ducks and a pig skinnier than Arry. How far do you think that goes?"
"Those crow-shield bastards really screwed Yoren on that deal."
"The crows stole the meat from the crows!" another recruit laughed. "Nobody would believe it if we told them…"
"They took it. We're the ones going hungry."
Arya's stomach answered with a loud growl, loyal as any vassal answering its king's call.
She bit her lip hard and tried to think of happy things—playing in the yard at Winterfell with Jon, mocking Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole together, learning to ride with Bran, training with Syrio in the Red Keep, sneaking through the castle hunting for new cats.
She just wanted to forget her traitorous stomach, forget the dead, forget how powerless she felt.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Greenhands Romi.
The former dyer, sent by Yoren, brought supper to the fire—gray bread and a turnip for each of them.
Arya saved the turnip for last and tore into the tasteless gray lump.
"From here on the road gets easier," Romi said like an expert. "Word is the fighting's moved on. The lions never come to these ruins. North of here there's not a single one of their men. We can use the main roads again. Think of that!"
"Hmph." Watt stared at his lonely turnip and deflated. "Roads don't fill bellies. The old man still won't trade for supplies. We're almost out of everything."
"Uh… there's still some bread…"
A sharp command rang out from a distant campfire. Romi hurried away.
"Arry." Gendry suddenly looked at her. "Can you do what you did in the woods last time? Catch us a rabbit?"
"I can."
"Terrible idea, Bull," Watt called him by his nickname. "The worst. I drank with some squires from the Twins once. They said the lord here hates poachers more than anything. He'll hang Arry. Or take her head. I'm serious. Rabbits count. His gamekeepers are everywhere and they've got sharp eyes."
"That's bullshit. No lord kills a man over one rabbit. You're making it up."
"We're Night's Watch now," Gendry argued. "He can't judge us…"
"Frey? He'll kill you and never blink. You know what they say? The king's too far, the gods are too high, and the headsman… he's right there at the Twins."
Arya had finished the bread and now stared at the turnip like it was the rarest treasure in the world.
Small and wilted, yet in her eyes it looked magnificent. She took a tiny bite and chewed slowly, almost feeling a strange bliss.
Suddenly a horn split the night.
"Seven bloody hells, Romi! You said there was no fighting here!" Watt grabbed his battered short sword. Against armored knights it would be useless.
Arya sprang up like an arrow, Needle tight in her fist.
Against armor the little sword wouldn't do much, but in the dark, against ordinary soldiers or distracted knights, it would be enough.
Maybe tonight she could finally kill a Lannister.
That hope died the moment the first shadow stepped out of the darkness.
"We're not enemies of the Night's Watch," a short man called out, empty right hand raised high. "We don't want your blood. We're not lions and we're not bandits. Keep your swords sheathed and we'll keep ours."
A moment later the recruits and sworn brothers slowly lowered their weapons.
No banners. No warhorses.
More figures emerged behind the spokesman. Their blades stayed sheathed.
"Then why the hell blow the horn?" Yoren spat. "Scaring honest folk in the middle of the night."
"We were afraid you'd start swinging the moment you saw us," a woman's voice answered. "Your sentries, Yoren—even mountain children could slip past them. Put someone else on watch after midnight."
"I don't remember giving my name. I don't know you, woman."
"You know my mother well enough. How many men has she given you and your crows?"
The female warrior stepped forward, pulled off her helm, and revealed a sharp, pretty face.
Tired and streaked with dust, yet clear in the firelight.
"I'm Lyanna Mormont, the new Lady of Bear Island. And you'd do well to listen to me about those sentries."