Kerrin Tollis, Sergeant in the Lannister army, leader of a small squad, and currently the officer in charge at the Twins, looked over the parapet at the snow starting to gather in the ditches at the foot of the wall and wondered how long he would be stuck here. Since his arrival three weeks before, taking command of a castle with no men in it, he had the feeling he might be here until Spring. And the Seven only knew when that would be.

Lady Frey came up to him, wrapped in a fine cloak that showed the snowflakes falling on her shoulders. She was very young, younger even than his wife, and he wondered at these lords who insisted on marrying a lass when they themselves were old and shrivelled. Not that that was Lord Frey's problem any more. He could remember the first thing this near-child had said to him after she ordered the gate to be opened and his squad brought inside the Great Hall.

"My husband is dead."

"Dead?"

"Ensorcelled by a witch and then left faceless in a pool of blood." She shuddered, and her serving maids and attendants moved closer to her for protection. "I am Lady Frey, and now I am a widow."

"How ensorcelled? And where are the rest of the men. Surely there are more than just you and your women."

The lady looked to her servants, then back at him. "Just us. Winter came to House Frey." The rest murmured along with her, nodding their heads sagely, and the youngest one started to cry. "Every Frey man died here, poisoned, and then my Lord turned into a dark witch who disappeared. We do not come to this hall unless it is light. We do not eat here, nor do we remain here if we can avoid it. Come to my chamber, and my women will bring us food and drink. Your men, too."

"Ale and bread will be welcome, unless you have some wine?"

She shuddered, and the rest closed in further. "There is no wine here. You will know why."

"Then lead me to your chamber, Lady Frey, and tell me all. I will know if you lie."

At that, the young lady shook her head. "We cannot lie. But what happened … you may not believe it."

But he did. He believed her story of the Lord's eldest sons disappearing, of their flesh turning up in the remnants of a pie found in the kitchens the day after the murder of all the rest of the Frey men. And especially he believed her story of Lord Walder Frey turning into a dark witch who wore men's clothing, and who told her and the rest of the women that the North remembers.

Because Tollis knew three things.

Firstly, he knew how the Faceless Men worked. He had been warned of their works and methods by his own sergeant when he was but a footsoldier. Although, to be honest, he had not believed until now.

Secondly, he had inspected the remains of the huge fire at the edge of the forest, where the women had dragged all the bodies and burned them. They did not have the strength themselves to dig a pit. Nor would they throw the bodies in the river, an act which would have simultaneously tainted the water and alerted anyone downstream that much death had occurred. If nothing else, the rotting bodies would also have released whatever poison had killed them into the waters, and the women did not want angry villagers from the Inn or Darry turning up at the Twins and seeking revenge. Also, the corpses had burned strangely, leaving a thick greasy purple smoke smudge on the side of the castle nearest the pyre. It spoke of a poison beyond his ken, and beyond the women's knowledge too.

But most of all, he knew who the witch was. What he did not understand though is why she had not killed him and all his men. Unless she, unlike Lord Walder, had valued and observed Guest Right. Tollis thanked the Mother that he and his men had been kind to the young woman they had met, and who obviously relied more upon the Stranger than any of the other Gods. He resolved always to offer to share with those he met on the road. Doing so had saved their lives, and as his fellow soldier, Jater, had said, being kind to strangers would lead them to being kind to him. "Kind" barely covered "do not kill them while they sleep", and yet she had not killed them, though Tollis had worried at the time more for the young woman's safety than his own.

But that was three weeks before. Now he was in charge of an entire castle, defending it with a handful of men and those women he had been able to teach to wield a spear or shoot a crossbow. One of them had been in charge of the ravens, and he had been able to send a message to Kings Landing about the massacre and ask for directions. The reply had asked for details – who had done it, how many men, why had the women not been killed – but he had sent only that information that he had. He had his suspicions now about the identity of the witch, or at least her allegiance. But that was not fact, and he did not pass his thoughts back to the barracks.

But he had seen a raven fly in a few minutes earlier and was thus not surprised at Lady Frey's appearance beside him. He could not leave his post; they had few enough sentries to keep watch, although how Walcris could keep singing while he patrolled the riverside parapet Tollis did not know. The singer's voice could be heard when the wind blew it over. But Lady Frey had saved the sergeant from leaving his post by bringing him the message, still sealed.

"From King's Landing, Sergeant. And I will have supper brought up for you."

"Thank you, my lady. It grows colder – a hot pottage will be most welcome."

She seemed less afraid of his than she had been when he and his men had ridden up to the near-empty keep, but she was still cautious. She wrapped her thick cloak about her and left him to his message.

Tollis broke the seal, unravelling the thin parchment and thanking once more the foresight of his father who had insisted that he learn to read before he left home to join the army. His wife did not, and he hoped to have a chance to teach her and their child before too long. Assuming, of course, that he survived. And that she had.

To his surprise, there were two thin strips of parchment in the roll. The outer one had the expected communication from the Commander in Kings Landing – was there any further news about the witch, and not to expect relief soon as all troops were preparing for attacks from the North.

"Great," Tollis thought. "And us here like sitting ducks, prey for the first army that decides they'll take this vantage point back." He almost dropped the second slip of parchment, but caught it just as the wind threatened to tug it from his fingers. The writing was not any he knew, and it had only two small sentences. Or rather, one and a word.

"Strangers will be kind to you if you are kind to them. Annalie."

Annalie. The name he and his wife were planning to call their baby if it were a girl. He'd always wanted a girl.

Kerrin Tollis rolled the second strip up very tight and slipped it inside the pouch he wore beneath the woollen undershirt his wife had made him before he left. Somehow, he would see his wife and daughter both when all of this was over. And somehow he would find the witch and thank her.