They say the Queen of the North was a wolf, like her brother.
They say the Queen of the North had her own pack.
They say she rode atop the biggest direwolf in the lands.
They call her the Red Wolf, out to avenge those who took her family.
Sansa ran; she ran and ran until her legs gave out. She had no idea how far or in what direction. All she knew was that it was better to die in the snow than spend another day with Ramsay. She had lost too much blood and her body was considerably weaker from the lack of food. She knew it was only a matter of time before the cold took her. Sansa closed her eyes; she knew better than anyone that winter was coming.
She lay in the wet snow, praying to the gods to take her before he found her. This was her only prayer anymore. Her wish for death was all but consuming since Littlefinger had left her at the castle. This, however, was not to be the young woman's fate.
She heard the rush of hooves and the howl of the hounds. Ramsey had found her with little effort. He had told his men to stay behind, something he would later regret. Instead, he decided to take his two favorite hounds and his trusty stead. He was rather enjoying the game he had decided to play with the last Stark. Sansa was much too weak to even move, let alone run anymore.
He leapt from his horse, laughing as he walked up to her. Axe in hand, his steps were hard. He smiled as he kicked the dying girl in the ribs. So hard, she felt them crack and lost her breath. Blood sprayed from her mouth when she was finally able to take a breath.
"You were a very bad girl. You need to learn." He smiled, then walked around her, looking down. "Father says I can't kill you till you give me a son, but I can do other things. You will regret running. Maybe I should cut your legs off so you can never leave me again." He ran the axe over her legs. The sharp blade pressed close to her skin. It was so cold, it burned her flesh. "Then maybe I should take your arm. I could pluck out your pretty eyes, and sew your mouth shut. The possibilities are endless of the things I could do with you. You know you're mine."
In the distance, she heard a sound she had not heard since she was a child. It was the sound of home. It was the sound of her childhood. It was her father and mother, her brothers playing, of Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Arya. It was the sound of a direwolf. She assumed she had gone mad with the pain. She heard their howls once more. They were getting louder. Ramsay's horse stated to buck and the hounds stated to panic.
Sansa looked up and saw the pure white wolf racing toward them. Within a beat of her heart, Ghost stood in front of her, shielding her from any further attacks from Ramsay.
Sansa smiled through bloodied teeth. "Winter has come for you, Ramsey Snow." She emphasized the bastard title. She would not give that man the satisfaction of calling him a Bolton one final time. Ghost closed the gap and ripped the psychopath's trachea from his neck.
The horse ran off and Ghost easily slayed the hounds. Once the battle was finished, Ghost never left Sansa's side. He knew she needed his warmth. She laid her head upon his shoulder. Stroking his thick white fur and looking to the wolf's eyes, Sansa felt Jon, there in the great white wolf. She closed her eyes and for the first time, she realized who had saved her.
