"C'mon love, gotta keep up if you're gonna get anythin' good for dinner" A tall, red headed woman spoke to her eight-year-old daughter. Nyria was only twenty two, leading her eight year old daughter through waist deep snow. She had spotted a buck running past this way and was following its tracks. It couldn't be far; the falling snow would have covered them up by now if they weren't fresh. She had a feeling that she and her daughter would eat very well tonight, provided all goes well with this afternoon's hunt.
She wanted to train her eight-year-old daughter, Ygritte, to hunt. It was a skill that all free folk needed to know, for they couldn't live off of their mother's breasts forever. Ygritte had been weaned off her mother at three, and while she had food brought for her to eat up until that point, Nyria was never sure when her little girl would need to fend for herself. Be it because of a savage animal, another wildling clan kidnapping her, the Night's Watch or white walkers, she knew her daughter could lose her at any time.
The Northern side of the wall was a blizzarding no man's land, and people rarely lived long.
The animal stopped, seemingly digging for some cold grass beneath the deep snow. Nyria saw her chance and took out her bow. However, she wanted her daughter to have this glory. Ygritte had practiced shooting at trees and small animals, and she'd grown to be quite skilled. The little wildling was a real prodigy with a bow, and Nyria would be so proud to witness her daughter's first big kill.
"Now little one, take your bow..." Nyria guided her daughter by example, nocking her bow and taking aim. "Like this, see?"
"Mum, I got it!" Ygritte insisted, somewhat clumsily grabbing an arrow from her quiver.
Nyria chuckled, watching her nock and pull the bowstring.
"Alright, now...on three, I want you to let go. Got it?" Nyria stood back a little to let her concentrate.
"Got it!" The fiery little girl responded, licking her lips in anticipation of this kill.
"Okay, one...two…"
Ygritte saw the deer run away before the end of the countdown, but that was the least of her worries. Lying in the snow, was her mother with an arrow in her back.
"Mum?" She lowered her aim and loosened her pull on the bowstring. The white snow was pooling red, and a figure about twenty feet away was holding a bow. It wasn't another wildling; his attire suggested he was a brother of the Night's Watch.
"Mum…" She was quiet and worried, only able to see her mother breathing shallowly. She turned her over, but this drove the arrow deeper into her back. Ygritte didn't know what to do. She was disoriented, so scared. Her head turned to the figure, her concern for her mother quickly turning into blind, guttural rage.
"Why…" She spoke, her eyes burning with angry tears. She hated this man for what he had done, for ripping her mother away from her. "Why, crow?"
No response was given. The man began to turn away, as if nothing had happened. He either hadn't heard her, or simply didn't care.
Ygritte felt it must be the latter, and in retaliation and blind rage, she aimed her bow, gritting her teeth. She didn't crave sustenance as much as she did revenge.
Without another word, without even blinking or flinching, she fired. The arrow flew true, and shot right into his chest. The man sunk to his knees, without a single sound excluding the thud of the brother's body falling into the powdery snow.
"It's okay mum, he's dead." She spoke, kneeling down by her mother, who lied on the ground. She had not yet passed, but she was fading. "I made my first kill, just like I said I would…"
Nyria reached a shaky hand into her coat. "Ygritte…" She could barely speak. "Hold..out..your hand…"
Ygritte held out her mitten-clad hands, as a small object wrapped in a rabbit hide was presented to her.
"This...this will protect you…" Nyria spoke.
"Please don't leave me…" Ygritte pocketed the small pouch and hugged her mother. "Mum...you're cold!"
The little wildling began to cry. "You'll freeze!"
"Ygritte...listen to me…" Nyria spoke, her voice quiet and almost hoarse.
"I don't want you to freeze!" Ygritte sobbed. "I don't want you to go!"
"You must stay strong…there is a fire...in your soul" Nyria's face grew paler, and her lips began to turn blue from the frosty environment. "Keep it burning…"
With that, her eyes shut.
"Mum? Come on, wake up!" Ygritte began to cry. "If you sleep in the snow, you'll freeze!"
Ygritte couldn't face the reality of her mother's passing. She lied her beside her, trying to share body heat, but her mother was cold. Lifeless. Gone. She laid there, crying as she came to the bitter realization.
She must've been there a few hours By sunset, she rose up. She had to burn her mother's body as she often saw other bodies burnt. This was to prevent the body from becoming a wight, as white walkers couldn't use burnt bodies for that purpose. Ygritte couldn't imagine how terrifying it would be for her mother to become one, so though it pained her, and it would be hard, she had to burn her mother's body.
Gathering wood was relatively easy. At first she just pulled sticks from trees, and pushed large logs to form the base of the pyre. She spent a good portion of the earlier evening gathering sticks and wood. She would have to have enough wood to effectively burn the body to the point where it couldn't be used as a wight.
The hardest part was getting Nyria's body onto the pyre. Finding wood and pushing heavy fallen trees was nothing compared to this. Her mother was tall, around 5'9, so she was relatively heavy for a child to pick up. A child shouldn't have to pick up her mother's dead body at all, but the world was cruel. Ygritte knew this now, and within about ten minutes, Ygritte managed to get Nyria's body onto the pyre.
She looked at her a moment. Something was missing. Ygritte saw a beautiful blue flower, sprouting through the snow against all odds. She picked it out of the ground and laid it in her mother's cold hands.
She found some flint to light the pyre, striking them together and creating a spark to light the wooden bier aflame. She watched as it was completely engulfed in the fire. It was warm, almost comforting.
She gazed into the flames of the burning pyre, her face stone and void of emotion. She was sad, but she wouldn't cry. She took the pouch out and opened it, finding a necklace within. A small black shard that appeared to be obsidian or glass served as a pendant. She put it around her neck, deciding from this point she would always wear it in honor of her mother.
"I'll be strong, mum." She spoke, standing with her shoulders back. "I promise."