The first pale light of dawn crept slowly through the trees.
After hours of riding through the endless forest, the riders finally reached the edge of the Wolfswood. The land opened before them into frozen hills and scattered stone ridges dusted with snow.
Far in the distance, rising above the grey morning mist, stood Ravenhold.
Its narrow towers pierced the sky like black spears.
Ser Halric let out a breath.
"Never thought I'd be so happy to see those ugly towers."
Corvyn did not answer.
His eyes remained fixed on the keep.
Something felt wrong.
The gates were open.
Too open.
Smoke drifted faintly above the walls.
Halric noticed it too.
"That's… not normal."
The riders urged their tired horses forward.
As they approached the outer road, the signs became clearer.
Broken arrows lay scattered along the snow.
One of the wooden watch posts near the road had been burned to blackened ruins.
Corvyn's stomach tightened.
"They came here."
Halric swore under his breath.
"Boltons?"
Corvyn nodded grimly.
"They must have split their force."
The riders pushed their horses harder, racing toward the gates of Ravenhold.
Two guards appeared along the battlements above.
For a tense moment they raised their bows.
Then one of them shouted.
"Lord Corvyn!"
The gates opened wider.
The surviving riders passed quickly into the courtyard.
Men rushed toward them immediately.
Stable hands grabbed the horses while armored soldiers gathered around.
Corvyn slid down from Shade.
"Where is my father?"
A captain stepped forward.
"In the great hall, my lord."
Halric glanced around the courtyard.
Several men were wounded.
A cart filled with broken shields stood near the well.
"Looks like we weren't the only ones fighting last night," the knight muttered.
Corvyn moved quickly toward the keep entrance.
The great doors opened as he approached.
Inside, the hall burned with torchlight despite the morning sun outside.
Lord Edrick Ravaryn stood beside the long wooden table, speaking quietly with several officers.
He looked up as Corvyn entered.
For a moment father and son simply stared at each other.
Edrick's eyes flicked briefly to the empty space behind Corvyn where many riders should have been.
"Six returned," Corvyn said quietly.
Edrick nodded once.
"I expected fewer."
Halric walked in behind him.
"Boltons everywhere in the Wolfswood," the knight said. "And not just a few."
Edrick's expression did not change.
"I know."
Corvyn frowned.
"You know?"
Edrick gestured toward the table.
Spread across it was a map of the North.
Several small black markers had been placed along the forests and rivers.
One rested directly beside Ravenhold.
Others… were much farther south.
Edrick met Corvyn's eyes.
"This was never about our lands."
He tapped the map.
"The Boltons are moving their armies."
Corvyn looked down at the markers.
Realization struck him slowly.
"They're marching on the North."
Edrick's voice was quiet.
"No."
He moved one of the markers farther south across the map.
"They're marching on Winterfell."