Wide golden eyes watched the young man swing the practice sword with feverish, angry strokes. Each connecting with the wooden training dummy with a loud crack, splinters and bits of hay falling to the ground with each strike. His black mop of curls clung to his forehead and neck with sweat, despite the chill temperature of the northern evening.
Keen ears twitched at the sounds of a feast echoing from the stone hall and the head of the tiny white owl turned to regard the open doorway. The scent of cooked meat and spilled ale was heavy in the air, the owl's delicate sense of smell offended by the smell of burning animal flesh. It let out a small peep of disapproval and turned back to the man-boy who had stopped attempting to kill the straw man and was speaking in hushed tones to a stunted man with grotesque features.
Apparently, the smaller of the two said something that offended the larger, as he turned and began striking the dummy with renewed energy. The wind shifted and blew directly across the hiding place of the miniscule raptor, and it shuddered violently fluffing its' feathers and scraping its sharp talons against the beam it was resting upon. Two pairs of human eyes turned to regard the bird and upon its' unfortunate discovery it let out a hiss and vaulted from the rafters of the smithy, flapping snowy wings in the direction of a wooded area near to the walls of Winterfell castle.
"An ice owl...they do not live this far south." muttered Tyrion as he swept his mismatched gaze back to Jon Snow, who seemed enraptured by the tiny bird. "ever."
"And how odd, that it seems to have take up nesting somewhere in your godswood." When he got no response from the brooding teenager he sighed and straightened his velvet doublet.
"Anyway, I must make an appearance at the feast. Sleep well Jon Snow, and think on what I said." The little man turned and walked back into the castle, his departure shaking Jon from his reverie. The young man put the practice sword away, and took off the padding he wore over his clothing. He turned to regard the open doors of his home, knowing he should go back inside lest his father and siblings worry. But again, Why go where I am not wanted? He thought to himself before throwing his heavy cloak over hos shoulders and taking steps in the direction of the godswood, intent on some solitude, and perhaps finding the nest of his curious little visitor.
Eyes the color of frozen spring water shot open as eyes the color of molten gold closed. A girl wrapped tightly in furs stood silently from her crouched position, stretching her arms over her head. Occupying the mind of the small ice owl always made her shoulders hurt and her stomach crave raw meat. Said raptor was silently perched upon a fur covered shoulder and it let out a small hoot that could only be classified as amusement. She had been scouting the garrisons and fortifications of winterfell for a month now, and so far, the task of scaling the outer walls of the keep seemed nigh impossible, she would have to use the owl, which she had named Alris, to infiltrate the castle. The sound of crunching leaves put the young woman on high alert, her expression of alarm hidden under the mask of fur she wore to warm her face. Silently she darted for cover under a fallen log, the soft bed of leaves blending with the brown fur she wore, effective camouflaging her bulky form.
She watched silently as the young man from before wandered into the clearing she was occupying, striding with purpose to the log under which she had taken refuge. Without a sound she drew a long thin blade of what looked like black glass her senses on high alert as he approached, and to her surprise settled his weight onto the log, the old wood groaning under his weight.
He stared up at the night sky from between the leaves of the overhanging trees, searching absently for the nest of the small white owl. Jon barely noticed when he was joined by the large albino direwolf he had claimed and titled Ghost. However, he did notice when the large canine let out an ugly snarl, his fangs bared at something under the log, hidden within the root system that supported its dead weight.
She scrambled back and bared her own teeth, her eyes flashing gold and her over sharp canines pricking at her bottom lip as the huge wolf approached.
Hello skin walker.
The voice that echoed through her mind was unfriendly at best and she backed her way towards an opening in the root system, hoping that the largest of her familiars could feel her distress.
"Ghost, what is it?" Jon had risen and drawn his sword from his belt, anything that had the wolf so on edge warranting caution. He barely had a moment to react before he was bowled to the ground by a mass of white fur and snapping teeth, sword dropped and forgotten.
Ghost's head whipped around just as his master was attacked by what appeared to be an enormous spotted cat, its' fangs bared mere centimeters from the mans' throat, one golden eye and one blue eye watching the enormous wolf.
If you harm him.
You'll what? Ghost was it?
I will tear out the soft flesh of your throat skin walker.
Is that before or after I tear the heart from your boy?
A low rumbling growl was all she received and she chuckled to herself.
Wolves.
There was suddenly an earsplitting wail of pain from the feline and in tandem a cry of surprise from the girl under the log. Apparently, the boy had a knife, and he had managed to stab it into the shoulder of the large cat. In the confusion Jon was able to roll himself out from under the leopard, and he shakily stood, the bloodied knife clutched in on hand, his recovered sword in the other. Ghost remained alert at the log, watching the human woman clutch her shoulder in pain as she scrambled for the opening in the roots. Jon slowly circled the enormous cat, a low hiss sliding from between its' teeth as it attempted to stand, the injury in the juncture of its shoulder and body not permitting it to put weight on its' front left paw.
No Sabine. The leopards' ears twitched backwards at the mental intrusion
But mistress.
NO. I will not have you killed protecting me from this boy and his pet dog.
The cat chuffed in amusement at the word dog and she slumped to the ground, her eyes flickering back and forth between the boy and the wolf, who was still snarling angrily at where her mistress hid.
Jon took this opportunity to slowly approach the giant leopard, raising his sword high to strike the head from its shoulders.
"Don't you dare." the words were mere whispers but the teenage boy froze.
Another snarl ripped from Ghost as the figure moved from under the log, a mass of fur and leaves. A wicked looking knife clutched in a gloved fist.
Jon hovered the sword over the neck of the cat.
"Who are you and what is your business?" His voice was firm, hiding the confusion he felt.
The girl smirked under her furs, admiring his face for the first time with her own eyes. She had seen Jon Snow many times on her reconnaissance missions, whether through the eyes of Alris or those of her gray fox familiar Mist. He had a firm, serious face, a strong square jaw with the beginnings of a dark curly beard about his chin. His mouth was well formed as was his nose, a mess of ebony curls hanging about his face and neck almost obscuring the piercing gray eyes that identified him as a Stark. He was tall, at least six feet in height and was made of lean fighter's muscles. All in all, he was beautiful, for a man, and while that did not escape the girl, he was indeed her enemy.
"Who I am is not your business Jon Snow." he was taken aback at the muffled whisper.
"How do you know my name wretch?!" Anger etched his features and he took another menacing step towards the prone feline, its' blood pooling under it.
The girl started forward as the leopard let out a plaintive mewl.
"please." she was close enough to touch him now, and she met his eyes with her own icy blue ones, and he was startled by the fear he saw in them.
"please let me help her. I will do anything you want...just. Please."
"drop the knife." she threw it to the ground and surged forward as he stepped aside to pick it up.
Mistress...i am cold.
Hold on Sabine. I'll make it better. Feverishly she ripped the furs from her body and piled them on top of the dying cat. Removing the bandolier of pouches she had slung across her chest, under her overcoats of animal skin.
Jon watched in wide eyed amazement as the bulky figure he assumed was male stripped down to a leather tunic and breaches. A woman. She pulled the hood from her head and revealed a mass of red hair, not shiny copper like Sansa's, but the color of freshly spilled blood.
With shaking hands she spread the fur to reveal the wound, a deep thing about the length of her hand and pulsing blood steadily with the heart beat of her familiar.
I will have to stitch it my friend. It will hurt.
Do what you must.
The great cat's eyes closed and the young woman dug out a long thin needle and some thread. Along with a small flask of fire wine which she poured over the wound and the needle. Swiftly and skillfully her fingers worked, first stitching the artery the the boy had nicked with his careless stab, then closing the outward flesh with a series of quick, neat stitches, effectively sealing the wound. Frantically she rummaged through another pouch, extracting a pot of what looked like green slime, she dipped her fingers into the mix and spread it along the line of the wound, wincing when the cat let out a pained hiss at the contact. Lastly she pulled a roll of pale brown linen from her bags and proceeded to wrap the wound, effectively sealing it from any irritants. Slowly the young woman stood, rubbing her bloodied hands on the grass as she pushed herself up. And immediately she had a sword at her throat.
"Turn around. Slowly." she did as Jon asked and when her eyes met his she allowed a satisfied smirk at his reaction.
She was beautiful. Her skin was as pale as the moon that illuminated her, set off by the unusual shade of her hair and the icy blue of her eyes. A smattering of freckles graced the bridge of a small pert nose set above a down turned bow of a mouth. The pale blue of her large eyes framed by thick black lashes and cherry red brows that matched the hair that fell to her hips in soft waves. Her body was tall and lithe with wide set hips, long legs and round full breasts set above a slender waist.
"Are you quite finished Jon Snow?" He snapped back to attention and glared at the woman before him.
"What is your purpose here?"
"Persistent aren't we?" she raised a brow. "Will you help me move her?"
"If you tell me your purpose." She grinned at this, showing him her sharp canine teeth in an almost feral way.
Ghost.
The direwolf flicked his ears in annoyance.
What skin changer?
Help me move her to under the log, please.
No.
Do you want me to make you? I promise it won't be pleasant.
The canine winced and loped towards where the enormous cat lay prone in sleep.
Jon watched in amazement as his companion stood impatiently while the woman crouched and lifted the wounded leopard onto his back.
"How...how did you do that?!" the sword was at her throat again and huffily she shoved it away from her neck, walking beside the giant wolf to nestle her friend in the soft leaves under the log. The young woman covered the white leopard with her furs, both to keep her warm as she recovered and to hide the brilliance of her coat.
"What will you do now Jon Sno" her words were cut off as the two of them were joined in the clearing by three more men. Swords drawn and pointed at her.
"Jon. What is this?" the man she recognized as Eddard stark regarded her critically and she itched to be holding weapons of her own.
"I am not sure my lord." Jon was at a loss. And the one called Robb snickered quietly to himself, looking at her with curious blue eyes.
"She refuses to tell me her business here."
Slowly she began to edge backwards, hoping to make it to the tree where she had hidden her weapons.
"Don't even think of it girl." a snide voice jeered behind her and she spun to take in Theon Greyjoy, who had managed to approach her from behind, bow and arrow loosely held in on hand and in the other he clutched her bag of weapons, eyes scanning her with a less than honorable expression.
"I found these in a hollowed tree near the weirwood." Theon threw her bow, her quiver full of arrows and her twin swords to the ground at his master's feet.
Such a good puppy.
She chuckled loudly, throwing her head back in laughter.
Mockingly she bowed to Eddard Stark, a feral gleam in her blue eyes.
"My lord Stark. A pleasure I am sure." the older man furrowed his brows.
"Who are you girl?"
"Why, I am Eliri Rayder, princess beyond the wall."