"Lady", Sansa called once more. "Lady, come here. To me, Lady!"
Strange, she thought to herself. She usually answers to my voice. It was usual for her wolf pup to go out and explore, but it was the first time Sansa was having trouble finding her. Lady had always been the sweetest and most quiet wolf of the pack, unlike her brothers and sister. She would answer to Sansa's every whim, as docile as a lapdog. The deafening silence met by Sansa's calling was starting to frighten her. Had something happened to her wolf? Please, gods, no. She is so sweet and well-behaved", Sansa pleaded silently.
A rustling sound of leaves caught her attention a few steps ahead. For a second Sansa froze, unsure of what to do next. Her father, the Warden of the North, had been receiving some of his bannermen lately, as it was custom, inviting them to share his roof, his meat and mead; that usually meant the woods were even more safely guarded than before, but still Sansa held her brewth. She had never been adventurous like Arya or Bran, who loved nothing more than climbing and go out in the woods until their clothes were all ragged and dirty. Sansa was a proper lady like her mother, and she was sure Lady Catelyn would not approve if she ventured too much in the woods. However, her curiosity got the best of her, and before she knew what she was doing she was following the sound and calling out once again, until she halted a few steps later, her mouth agape like a small fish. Lady was below the great weirwood of Winterfell and, much to her surprise, she was not alone.
There was a tall and lean man kneeling beside her, scratching her ears as he whispered softly to the wolf, although his tone was so low that Sansa could not make out the words. He wore black leather and mail from head to toe, with the sigil of a hideous flayed man carved on his jerkin. Sansa was trying to remember where she had seen it before when the man looked directly at her with the coldest, most mesmerizing eyes Sansa had ever seen, eyes that had sent a chill down her spine when she had first met them in the courtyard of Winterfell a few days ago, for they were as piercing and impenetrable as two pools of ice. "Lord Bolton" Sansa remembered her courtesies and swept in a gracious bow.
He gave her nod, his expression cold and seemingly unfazed, although he nodded politely. "Lady Stark, I presume" his voice was deep and rich, almost reverberating in the quiet of the godswood. "I believe you are looking for your pup" he said, rising to his full height. Although Sansa had always been tall for her age, she found herself looking up to him, which frightened her more than she cared to admit. Old Nan's stories of the Dreadfort, House Bolton's holdfast, and flayed men screaming in dark dungeons came back to her, but Sansa made an effort to push them aside. She was a girl of twelve, almost a woman now, not a child afraid of fairytales. "I hope she has not disturbed you, my lord" she answered. "It is not like Lady to ignore me when I call for her; neither to be so friendly with strangers, for that matter" her attempt of a smile died in Lord Bolton's gaze, although a tiny spark of amusement passed through his eyes.
"It would take more than a wolf pup to frighten me, child, although I must agree that they make quite an interesting pet." He petted the pup's head with a slender, gloved finger. "Lady, is it? A name most fitting for such a docile, dignified creature".
"I am grateful you found her, my lord. Usually I don't dare to venture so further away from the castle alone" Sansa admitted shyly.
"Nor should you, as I am sure your lord father agrees. Allow me to walk you back to the courtyard. I have things to discuss with Lord Eddard" and with that he started to walk back to the castle without waiting for an answer, with Sansa by his side. Roose Bolton was never a man inclined to small talk, but his curiosity regarding the wolves took the best of him and he found himself asking Sansa about them. The girl answered politely to his questions, telling him all about the names and how her father and brothers had found the dead wolf and the litter. Direwolves in Winterfell, what a curious sight, he mused to himself. While the young Stark girl talked in that sweet tone of hers, he kept graciously a step behind her, not out of respect but to allow himself to inspect her unsuspiciously. She surely had taken after his mother, judging by her auburn mane of hair and the blue eyes that betrayed her Tully heritage. Tall and slender for her age, he could already make out the timid outlines of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Perhaps not a woman grown and bled, but a very pretty thing indeed, Roose thought yo himself while keeping up with the conversation. Eddard Stark would have a host of suitors lining up at his gates for her, until the right one came along.
"There you are" a girl voice came from above them. A second later, a tiny, scrawny girl of no more than ten landed on all fours with a soft thud in front of them. When she rose, Roose noticed the scrapes in her dress and the leaves in her hair, as well as the gaunt features of Ned Stark looking back at him. "There is buttermilk and blueberry pies in the kitchen for us. Mother told us to look for you, she was worried you were lost. Again." She added with a scowl. Sansa was delicate as a greenhouse plant, always sheltered and preferring the boredom of her needles to the outdoors.
"I was *not* lost" Sansa snapped with a hint of annoyance. "Mother need not be worried. I was looking for Lady. Lord Bolton was kind enough to find her and walk us back" her tone sweetened at the mention, ever so courteous.
Too bad she did not chew his arm off, Arya thought. She had disliked Roose and his hideous sigil the moment she had seen him, and beneath her father's hospitality she knew he did not warm up to him as he did with other Northern lords. His eyes were deeply unsettling, and deep in her core she had the feeling he was not a man to be trusted. "Are you coming or not? The pies are getting cold."
Sansa was shocked. How dare her sister to ignore a guest? "Arya! Remember your courtesies!"
Arya had to supress an eye roll as she bowed low. "Apologies, my lord. The pies are still getting cold."
Roose found himself smirking, much to his surprise. "I am sure they are, child. I shall not keep you away from your meal any longer. Lady Sansa, I trust your sister can lead you the rest of the way."
Sansa bowed graciously as Arya waited impatiently. "Thank you, my lord Bolton. Forgive my sister's wild manners. You have been most kind with Lady." The youngest Stark girl had already bolted towards the castle, but Sansa followed her in long, ladylike strides, with the wolf paddling ahead and showing her the way and Lord Bolton's icy stare darting at the back of her head.
Roose Bolton made his way for Lord Eddard's rooms, thinking he should pay a visit to his liege lord way more often.