It had not been an easy journey back from Braavos. She had spent years studying and learning the art of the faceless men. She learned to kill a man in his sleep, she learned how to kill a man in a room full of people, she learned how to kill a man and feel nothing. But what she could never kill was herself, she had worn many faces before she left, Arry, Weasel, The Ghost of Harrenhall, Cat, she had shed these skins like a snake, leaving one and slipping on another. She had tried, she spent hours telling herself she was no-one but it never took, especially with the constant remember of her wolf dreams. She could never forget she was and would always be a Stark.

It was when she was making her way along the docks on her way to slit the throat of some boat Captain, that she heard a cluster of whores that a ship arriving from Westeros carrying more news of the on going war. She slipped past the women and went in search of the ship. It wasn't hard to find most of the ships that docked in the harbor were from the free cities, small and quick good for carrying people and spices. A ship sailing from Westeros was bulky and slow they sat low in the water weighted down with large exports. When she reached the gangplank she was greeted with a large gather of men load and unloading crates. From behind a man knocked harshly into her, almost causing her to lose her footing and tumble into the water.

"Watch yourself , boy" called a man with a northern tilt to his voice that Arya's heart gave a jolt.

"I'm not a boy"

"Then all the more reason to watch yourself, what are you doing hang about near the docks?"

"I'm not hanging about" she cut back looking directly into the taller mans salt warn face, "I wanted to hear news from Westeros" The man's eyes narrowed slight as he squinted in the sun to make out her face better. Arya unconsciously shrunk back into the shadows slightly under the scrutiny; one of the first rules she had learned at the house of black and white was the worth of a face.

The sailors face relaxed, "All that squabbling over crowns is over, the mother of Dragons rules the south and the north belongs to the King in the north, they call him the cripple King, split the whole damn land in half"

Arya's words caught in her throat, Bran, they have to be talking about Bran, as she was about to speak another sailor cut in.

"S'for the best, all that fighting never did us no good"

Finally finding her voice," Why did the split the country? I heard the Queen had dragons"

Frist sail nodded, "Aye, she had dragons but word is the cold didn't treat them so kindly, she gave the north back to them Starks under the command they rule peacefully along side her "

But Arya's mind was already somewhere else, she wasn't alone, her family lived, Bran lived. She wasted no time, she raced back to the small room she had called home for five years took what little belongs she had and bored the same ship she had pulled for information the next week when it left.

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. She had to make it back to her pack.

…

Traveling from White Harbor to the North was much hard than she had anticipated. Most of the roads were snowed close and those that weren't we ravaged often by marauding bandits left over from the war, that safe passage was almost impossible. She stayed a month in White Harbor waiting for a caravan to leave heading up north.

Passing by an arms shop Arya caught sight of her reflection in on of the shields. Looking back was someone she didn't recognize; it had been a long time since she looked Arya Stark in the face.

No longer could they call her horse face, growing up over the last couple of years had made the rest of her body proportional to her face. Her skin had lost its pale northern sheen and in its place was a dark mark of the Braavosi sun. She stood a good head taller than she had when she left and could no long be mistaken for a boy unless she bound her chest. The hair that she had kept in a ratty bob for so long was now placed in a smooth braid that brushed her shoulder blade. Yet some things hadn't change needle still hung at her hip, and she still wore boys clothing albeit much more form fitting than she ever had in Westeros. Taking another moment to look at the stranger reflecting back as her, she shook her head and headed off to barter passage with the caravan.

….

It didn't take long to find them anything headed north seemed to be going along on this trip. Arya darted in an out of the rows of wagons carrying every thing from fruits to whores. Wandering closer to the front of the wagon pack. She approached what looked to be a small troop of men clad in odds and ends of amour, Sellswords, She thought, must have been hired to protect the caravan as it head up. When a tune drifted from behind the group of men that tugged at Arya's memories.

"A bear there was,"

"A bear, A BEAR!

"All black and brown,"

"And covered with hair!

"Oh come they said,"

"Oh come to the fair!"

"The fair? said he,

"But I'm a bear!"

Skidding around the group she found someone she thought she'd never see again. Tom of Sevenstreams stood among was Arya was just being to realize was what remained of the Brother without Banners. Her whole body felt like it was dunked in ice water. He hadn't seen her yet she could still run and there was the chance that even if he did see her, he wouldn't recognize her. Unfortunately in her hurry to escape she ran straight into someone's chest.

"Omphf" she exhaled and landed soundly on ground. Shaking her head from the impact she made to get up only to be greeted with a hand reaching down to help her up.

"Ah, sorry there Miss I didn't think you turn so fast"

Without looking Arya battled the handout of the way and stood up brushing the dirt from her pants, "You stupid! Didn't you see someone in front of you? Why would you stand that close! "

"Hey I said I was sorry didn't I? Are you hurt?"

"Doesn't make you any less stu-…" The words seemed to die upon her lips as she looked up and met the most familiar stormy blue eyes, before she could voice her surprise a voice called from behind her.

"Why Ser Gendry do you make it a point of knocking beautiful spirited young ladies to the ground?" jested a voice.

Gendry's face broke out into a blush "No, Tom it was just an ac-…" before he had finished Gendry's eyes had found her face and inhaled sharply.

"My apologies for the young man isn't much for courtesies" Tom spoke gentle coming up behind her. "I'm Tom of Sevenstreams and this strapping lad is Gendry, what may I ask is your name fair maiden? "

Arya couldn't breath it was too much. Looking back into Gendry's eyes she searched for any recognition of her. He brows were pulled to the middle of his face and his lips had been set in a straight line, in concentration. He seemed to be in deep thought as if trying to remember something half forgotten. Quickly turning away from Gendry.

She schooled her face into a neutral expression as had many times in the past years and addressed Tom, " My name is Cat… I came to look for a wagon to take me North, I can work for my stay and I won't need protecting" laying a hand on the pommel of her sword.

Tom let out a laugh, "I can see that now. A girl who can take care of herself, eh? What business do you have going north? "He took a step closer to her and began to walk in a slow circle around her, "from the look of you, you've never spent a day outta the sun, it's a harsh place up there, What makes you think North is the place for you?"

If there's one thing Arya hated it was being underestimated. Her lips drew back over her teeth, "It's none of your concern. Will you allow me along or not?"