The fire in the Bolton camp burned low.
Most of the bodies had already been moved.
Snow covered the rest.
Erasing.
Hiding.
Corvyn stood over the map once more.
The parchment was damp with melted frost and blood, but the markings were clear.
Too clear.
Seven positions.
Spread across the Wolfswood.
Not scattered…
Organized.
"They're not raiding," Corvyn said.
Ser Halric crossed his arms.
"No," he agreed. "They're building something."
One of the scouts stepped forward.
"These markings… they form a pattern."
Corvyn traced the lines with a gloved finger.
His expression hardened.
"A net."
Halric looked at him.
"A net?"
Corvyn nodded.
"They're not trying to move through the Wolfswood."
He tapped the center of the map.
"They're trying to control it."
Silence followed.
The realization settled slowly.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
"If they succeed…" Halric muttered.
"They cut Ravenhold off from the rest of the North," Corvyn finished.
The scout swallowed.
"My lord… what do we do?"
Corvyn folded the map carefully.
"We break it."
Halric raised an eyebrow.
"Just like that?"
Corvyn looked toward the dark trees beyond the camp.
"We don't fight them all at once."
He sheathed Nightfeather slowly.
"We tear the net apart piece by piece."
Halric smiled slightly.
"Now that sounds like a proper hunt."
Corvyn turned back to the men.
"We move before dawn."
One of the younger soldiers hesitated.
"My lord… shouldn't we return to Ravenhold first?"
Corvyn shook his head.
"No."
He gestured toward the forest.
"If we leave now, they tighten their grip."
Halric nodded.
"He's right."
The knight glanced around at the men.
"We hit them where they don't expect it."
Corvyn stepped toward the edge of the camp.
The wind shifted.
Colder now.
Sharper.
A raven's cry echoed faintly overhead.
He looked up.
The same black bird circled above the trees.
Watching.
Always watching.
Corvyn's voice lowered.
"Seven camps."
He turned back to his men.
"We destroy one tonight."
His eyes hardened.
"And another tomorrow."
Halric let out a low chuckle.
"The Boltons won't know what's happening."
"They will," Corvyn said quietly.
The forest seemed to listen.
The shadows stretching long between the trees.
"They just won't see it coming."
Snow began to fall again.
Soft.
Endless.
Covering tracks.
Hiding blood.
Hiding war.
Corvyn pulled his cloak tighter and stepped into the darkness of the Wolfswood.
Behind him, the men of Ravenhold followed without hesitation.
The hidden war had begun.