Little Sister
Nymeria was wading through the snow, her grey fur crusted with ice. Her breaths were deep and raspy, painting the air white in front of her snout. The direwolf limped towards the roots of a Weirwood tree, and collapsed beneath its shadow. The days were growing short and cold. There was no warmth in this place; no animals or plants to feed on; no caves or hollows to escape the bitter winds. There was only the harsh white snows, that stretched eternal; and the cruel, brooding sky above.
Nymeria's stomach groaned in agony. It had been ages since she'd eaten, and she was becoming weaker with each passing day. Her fur with thinning, and had started to fall out in matted clumps. Her skin hung loose, and the cold had crept into her bones and stayed there. She could feel her life-force draining away. There was no life here; only death, and she would soon be one of them. She could no longer feel her other self; the little girl who sometimes shared her thoughts. "Ar-Yah" other men had called her, though to Nymeria, she was her "little wolf girl". They had separated while she was still young, but their spirits had never parted. But now… there was nothing.
Nymeria had been following the scent for weeks, but it was gone now; dissolved in the winds and rains. The scent had been old, but familiar; a smell that she had known at her mother's teat. It had been her brother, the white wolf. She had felt his movements in the snow, and bound off after him, but now she was lost and alone… and death was snapping at her heels.
She looked down at her hind leg. There was still some meat on it, and warm blood coursing beneath the skin. The wolf thought for a moment, questioning whether she had the strength to do it; the will to dine on her own flesh. She had tried it two moons ago, but the pain had been too much to bear. In the end, she just licked at the snow for a few drops of water. The freezing liquid burned as it trickled down her throat. Nymeria curled up tight beneath the Weirwood, and closed her eyes. Sleep, sleep and never wake up. Darkness closed in around the direwolf, and the sound of the wind began to fade.
"Little sister," a voice whispered. Nymeria's head perked up, and her eyes darted around. There was nothing there, save for the fog. She let out a meek howl, choking towards the end of it. "Litte sister…" There it was again; soft and familiar. Nymeria rose to her feet, threw back her head, and let out a great, soaring wail. When she had no more voice left to give, she collapsed onto her belly, panting heavily.
Then, from out of the silvery mists, two blood-red eyes appeared. A great wolf, larger than herself, came padding towards Nymeria. His fur was thick, and as white as snow. "Brother," she barked, and bounded towards him. The two beasts collided, and went tumbling across the frost, arm in arm. She yelped with delight as her brother wrestled her to the ground, and greeted her with a flurry of licks to the snout. She pushed him onto his back, and gnawed at his belly softy. Nymeria and Ghost threw back their heads and howled as one. Long and trembling, their voices sung out across the fields of wrinkled snow. The raging winds were finally drowned out by the sounds of two direwolves, reunited at last.
"Where have you been?" she whimpered. "I have been searching forever."
"It's okay," he replied gently. "We are a pack again." He licked the tears from her cheek. They returned to the Hart tree, and nestled into its thick roots. They clung together, feeding off each other's warmth.
"I thought you were dead," she sobbed. "I thought I was the last one left."
"I'm alive," he replied. "This is my second life."
"Jon?" Her eyes widened.
"Rest now, little sister," he murmered. "And dream of warmer times."