Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait on this one. I had a chapter all written out and then my muse struck and I came up with a better way for the story to go. And I had to rewrite it. And I had to make it longer than I intended to kind of play catch up. So this is another chapter that's pretty much centered on Arya. I needed to have a few things happen to her before she's able to come face to face with Theon again. This is basically a set up chapter for the next few chapters. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. I hope I don't disappoint.

Chapter 2

Arya felt sleep fall away fall way from her. The scent of fresh blood, meat, snow, and pine trees still lingered in her nostrils. She had awoken from one of her 'wolf' dreams again. She had them every night since she had seen through the eyes of the cat. She kept having to tell herself that what had happened to her was real. She had been the cat. She was still reeling from that revelation; and now whenever she had the wolf dreams she made sure to pay close attention to everything that happened in them. She memorized every sensation she felt.

When she dreamed it was cold and there was snow, but the cold did not seem to bother her. There were other wolves, so she knew she was part of a pack, a large one at that and the other wolves seemed to follow her lead. There were times that she would smell fire and she sometimes glimpsed the ruins of a town. It seemed the area where the wolves roamed was war torn. Even as she dreamed her mind whispered to her that it was Westeros she saw. She had always known that when she had these dreams that it was Nymeria she became. Her strange experience with the cat named Mouser made her wonder if this meant that Nymeria was still alive and even better, she thrived.

Along with this wonder that she felt at the possibility of Nymerya being alive, there was a vague sort of revulsion that simmered in the background of her mind. Old Nan's stories always portrayed that someone who could enter the mind of an animal was someone to revile, to fear. She shook her head of the thoughts, just as a gentle purr sounded in her ear.

She smiled at this and sat up slowly. Her sightless eyes turned to where she had heard the purr. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out to feel the soft fur of the cat. "Good morning, Mouser," she whispered. It was the only good thing that came from that ill-fated day outside the brothel. The cat had followed her and she had made a much needed friend. She had not realized how lonely she was until the cat came into her life.

Her hands ghosted over the soft fur between the cat's ears. The cat purred in gratitude. After a few moments she stilled her hand and bought it to her lap. The smile fell from her lips as she lost herself in concentration. This was a routine she had done every morning since that night. Despite the fear she had, she tried reaching out to Mouser with her mind. To her frustration, she was never able to force the connection again. She brow furrowed as she let out a small sigh. It appeared that this morning would be no different.

"I wish I understood how this worked." She whispered quietly to the cat. "I think I reach Nymeria every night. Howcome I was able enter your mind that night? Was I supposed to see Theon Greyjoy, was I supposed to realize that I will forever be stupid Arya Stark?" She gave her head a shake.

It was best not to think of Theon. He unsettled her. He made her think of home and her younger brothers and how he took them away from her. He made her angry and he made her hate. He made it hard for her to pretend she wasn't Arya. She had accepted the fact that she would never be No One. She had been forced to realize that Arya was too strong to be hidden away forever. But she could pretend to become what Jaqen H'ghar wanted her to be, who the Waif thought she could never be. She had a lot of practice at pretending to be other people, she had pretended to be a boy named Arry who wanted to be a Brother of the Night's Watch. She had been Weasel the servant at Harrenhal. And sometimes in the service of the House of Black and White she was Cat of the Canels who sold shellfish and most recently a blind beggar girl. She could pretend to be No One. She would just have to work harder at hiding Arya from Jaqen and the Waif.

Reluctantly she stood up from the mat she slept on. "It is time to get ready for the day." She muttered quietly to the cat. The cat meowed in response and then started to groom itself as Arya felt around for a fresh robe. As she shed her night clothes and then put on the tattered rags of a beggar, she prepared herself to play the part. She erased all outward appearances of Arya, gone was the stubborn set of her jaw and the small crease of her brow that betrayed the anger she constantly felt. Now she wore the simple, resigned expression of a person who had nothing, not even her sight. She felt around for her staff. When she held it firmly in hand, she shuffled to the door.

"Ready for the day Mouser?" Arya felt for the latch, opened the door and felt the cat dart past her into the hall. Arya fought to keep back the smile she felt coming to her lips. The cat was gone. She never knew where the animal went during the day. Probably back to the brothel that had been her home. It did not matter to Arya, for she knew that Mouser would find her way back to her in the evening. Perhaps Mouser knew she should hide from anyone in the temple who wasn't Arya.

For Arya the day progressed much as any other day. She worked on mixing poisons and potions with the Waif in the morning and then went begging in the afternoons until dark. She didn't hear any particular interesting gossip as people passed by while she begged. They seemed only intent on their own boring lives. She had started to beg closer to the market square since the night she had run into Theon. People who weren't drunk on alcohol or sex were not as loose with their lips. But Arya could not take the risk of going back to her preferred begging spot at the brothel.

She was worried about encountering her past again. She was not sure what she would do if she encountered Theon Greyjoy again. She might very well try to kill him. She had never added him to the list of people she would like to see dead. But from the moment she saw him through the cats eyes, a rage had come over her and even now the mere thought of him was enough to make her heart pound in fury. He had killed her brothers it only seemed fitting that he should die too. He should have a place on that list of hers, but she dare not kill him. They had taken her sight for taking Ser Meryn Trant's life. What would they take from her if she let her rage get the better of her now? So she tried to push all thoughts of him away. If she didn't think about him, maybe he would just go away. If he left Bravos she she wouldn't have to worry about what she would or wouldn't do to him.

She still wasn't sure what she would tell Jaqen when he asked his questions about what she had learned while she was out and about Bravos. The time of the full moon was coming and every month that was the time she would have to report her findings. She had picked up the bits and pieces about what was happening in Westeros and she heard some rumors from Slavers Bay, but it was always unclear if it would be something he would want to know about. She wondered if knowing the heir to Pyke was hiding in Bravos would be important to him.

It probably would be, but she wasn't sure she wanted to share that information. It felt like it was something personal for Arya to deal with. She doubted Theon wanted anyone to know he was there. He was a craven and a turn cloak. A simple blind beggar girl would not have realized who the man she bumped into had been. At least with these thoughts it was easy for her to justify not telling anyone that Theon was there. She was pretending to be No One. No One wouldn't care about a disgraced Westerosi lord posing as a commoner in Bravos. No One wouldn't have to tell Jaqen anything about it. It gave Arya a little more time to think about what she was going to do about Theon Greyjoy.

—

After Arya had made her way back to the House of Black and White for the night and had a simple meal of stew and hard bread, she was asked to scrub down the floors in one of the many cells of the temple. It was an easy job for her to do, even while blind. If she didn't do a perfect job, her mistakes wouldn't be noticeable to anyone because of the dim light. It was dull work, and unfortunately it let allowed her mind to wander. But it was also a solitary job, so she would not have to work hard on keeping up the pretense of being No One. There were some times when the monotony of such a chore would be interrupted by the strange man who came in to test her skill and reflexes with the staff, but she doubted he would come. She had practiced with him last night and she was still nursing a few bruises from that encounter.

She shuffled slowly to her destination, impeded by a large bucket of water in one hand, her staff in the other and a rag was draped over her arm. She let out a small sigh when she reached the room. She would not pretend to enjoy doing this work, but she would not complain either. She knelt down and soon lost herself in the mundane job of washing the stone floor.

She didn't know how long she had been doing her task when she heard a soft mew off to her right. "Mouser?" She whispered, and as soon as the name left her lips the cat gingerly made her way to Arya and rubbed against her arm. Arya felt herself smile despite the risk of the cat being out in the open. "You're home early." Mouser only gave a soft purr in response. Arya's heart lightened a little, now she would not have to finish her chore alone. "I'm glad you're here, but you should hide, just while I finish this up. We don't want anyone to find you, we don't know what they might do to you." Mouser gave Arya one last gentle nudge with her head and bounded off to the corner shadows of the room.

Her heart a little lighter, Arya went back to work. Her mind drifted off, sometimes she would find herself thinking about the home that she had lost, about the man who had taken Winterfell from her family and how she would exact revenge on him or even if she would. More often then not her thoughts would go back to the cat who was not far away, and the small relief she had brought into her life over these past few days. Other thoughts flitted back and forth in her mind, she never dwelled on one thought for too long and before she knew it, her thoughts drifted right into the cat.

At first she was shocked, she could see. The cat had been looking at her when she had overtaken the feline body. It was a bit of a shock seeing herself motionless on the floor. She was lying down as if asleep, she must have just fallen over when her mind left her body. It was a very curious thing, to look at oneself, especially when she so different from how she remembered herself. It was not the Arya from Winterfell that she was looking at. Her hair had grown, from when she had to cut it to look like a boy traveling with recruits of the Night's Watch. She was older now, but the face was different. She wore fake scars and her brow was smudged with dirt, all in an effort to look more like a beggar.

She was still staring at herself when she heard the muffled footfalls of someone entering the room. Her cat's eyes went directly to the figure who stood at the door. The face in the dim candle light was easy to recognize. It was Jaqen, and he held a staff. Suddenly she figured out the puzzle. She knew who came to fight with her. Without much effort she was able to pull her mind away from the cat, almost as if her soul knew which body it belonged to.

The moment she came back to her body, she reached for her staff which was only a few inches from her left hand. With a firm grip she hefted it into the air, she was just able to block Jaqen's first blow. He said nothing, he always said nothing while they fought. But from the way he fought she knew it had always been him who tested her fighting skills since she had been blind.

She wondered if he always wore the same face. She wondered if it was even Jaqen, or if that was even his name. It was always a lingering thought in her mind. She had seen him change his face after they escaped Harrenhal. And the old man who had first greeted her when she arrived at the Temple changed his face into the familiar Jaqen. She knew how easy it was for these people to change faces. She supposed anyone could be wearing the face she knew as Jaqen. They might think that since that face was known to her she would be at ease. Now while she batted away another blow he sent her way, she found it disconcerting. Perhaps it really wasn't Jaqen, what if it was the Waif or even a different Faceless Man.

As her mind wandered from defense, Jaqen hit her on the arm, and she was unable to block it. She cried out, frustrated. She knew she would have a another bruise. Now that her frustration had set in, she forgot to listen the rustle of his robs, the sound of the staff gliding through the air was lost to her. She blindly struck out with her staff, hoping to get lucky and catch him unawares, she should have known it was fruitless. Another blow came from the opposite direction of what she expected. He was behind her now, and he brought the staff down on her shoulder hard, not enough to break it, but it gave her enough pain that she dropped her staff. And just like that the fight was over. He said nothing as he glided from the room.

She dropped to the floor, tears of pain stung her eyes. She was frustrated, she had been getting better at fighting blindly, or at least she thought she had. She failed miserably tonight. She let the pain in her arm waste away to a dull throb, and then continued washing the floor. When she was done with the task, she made her way back to the privacy of her own chamber. The cat following closely behind.

However when they reached her door, the cat must have sensed something, because she darted away. Arya frowned, wondering what had spooked the animal and knew she must be cautious. She felt her way to the latch of the door and opened it carefully, her staff at the ready, wondering if Jaqen would choose to fight her again.

When she stepped into the room, she knew someone was there. They were not trying to stay hidden from her senses and no attack came.

Instead Jaqen's voice softly said, "and who is a girl today?"

"No One." She answered automatically. He always greeted her that way.

"Perhaps." He said in a tone that said he still did not believe her. "And what has a girl learned these last few weeks?"

So, she had been right, the full moon had been close. She told him of the current political climate in Westeros and of the rumors she had heard about the Iron Bank getting involved in the affairs across the Narrow Sea by loaning money to Stannis Barotheon. She had heard that several days ago from the mouth of a known smuggler. She supposed that was how Stannis got the money to afford his army in the North. She offered some information about a Bravosi merchant. Jaqen seemed to find both pieces of information, not of great interest, but satisfactory. She was still unsure of what to tell him last. Did she dare mention to him that Theon of House Greyjoy had found his way to Bravos?

Arya opened her mouth still not sure. And without hesitation she simply said. "I know that the person who spars with me every so often wears Jaqen H'gar's face."

There was a moment of silence . Arya wished she had her eyes back so that she could see his reaction.

Finally in a neutral tone, Jaqen said, "A girl is correct."

That was all he said, and she heard him step softly out of the room. Her heart was thudding and she wanted to yell after him to ask what it meant and what would happen to her.

—

The next morning Arya awoke to someone standing inside her chamber. Arya sensed that the cat was no where near her and realized that Mouser had hidden herself away when she heard someone outside the door. Arya was thankful that the cat was so smart. Just as she was thinking this she heard an impatient sigh from her guest, and Arya instantly knew who it was. She was correct in assuming that the person standing there would not have been happy to see Mouser. Not because the person disliked cats so much, but because the person simply didn't like Arya.

It was the Waif who was in her room. Arya knew the girl was trying to be silent as she moved about the room, but Arya could track her, even without her sight. The Waif wasn't nearly as good as she thought she was and that gave Arya some satisfaction.

"What are you doing here this morning?" Arya asked sitting up quickly from her mat and reaching for her staff. She wondered vaguely if she would be attacked, if this was some sort of test. She heard the sharp intake of the Waif's breath.

At first there was no other reply, the girl just knelt down next to her. Finally with one hand theWaif picked up Arya's hand and with her other hand, she placed a wooden cup in it. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?" Arya asked with distrust, the last time the girl had given her something to drink it was a poison that made her blind.

"Just drink it." Snapped the Waif.

Not wanting to seem a craven Arya carefully brought the cup to her lips. Before she took a sip, she sniffed slightly, there was no oder. Then she took a tentative sip. It tasted cloyingly sweet, but that sweetness hid something bitter that came through in the aftertaste. She nearly gagged on it. "What is this?" She asked after she coughed lightly.

Before the Waif could answer, the black, she had been so used to seeing these past few weeks, started fading into a gray. With a startling jerk of her body, she realized she was getting her sight back. She blinked rapidly, things were slowly coming into focus for her. Thankfully her first sight was not the Waif, it was a candle that the girl must have lit when she came into Arya's chamber. The soft glow of the candle hurt her eyes, and she could not look directly at it for long. She would dart her eyes away down to the floor, but always they darted back up to the flame. She relished the pain it caused, because the sight to her was beautiful. She could see again.

The Waif didn't seem to want to give her time to acclimate to regaining her sight. "You passed a test." She said tersely, pulling Arya attention away from the candle. Arya now had to focus on the much less welcome sight of the Waif. "Who are you?" The Waif asked harshly.

"No One," Arya said with what she hoped sounded like conviction.

It did not, because the Waif gave her a look of disgust. "And still you lie."

"Leave us." A voice rang out, and the command was clearly meant for the Waif. Jaqen must have seen and heard the whole interaction. Arya noted that she could not tell that he been there, even when she had regained her sight. He was much better at keeping himself unnoticed than the Waif.

The Waif gave Arya one last disgruntled look and turned toward the door. She brushed pass Jaqen just as Arya brought herself up to a standing position. Her eyes were still adjusting to the fact that she could see again. But she was certain that the Waif had given Jaqen a frustrated frown.

When they were alone Jaqen spoke first. "We think you are ready."

"Ready for what?" Arya asked cautiously.

"It is time for you to take a name."

Arya blinked at that. She was not expecting this. Her revelation last night must have done much to improve Jaqen's impression of her. Instead of asking the normal questions, about who she was to kill, how she was to do it, where it was to be done and so on, she chose to remain quiet. If she showed patience, Jaqen would explain, she had a feeling it would not be wise to prove herself too eager.

There was a subtle smile that came to the man's lips, he approved of her reticence. "A girl will take on the mantle of Cat of the Canals again. She will go about selling her shell fish same as always in the mornings. She will continue to watch and listen to those around her. In the afternoon's she will go to where Izemaro's theater troupe performs their plays. She will watch and listen, especially to a certain actor by the name of Lady Crane. She will acquaint herself with the woman's routine. And she will plan accordingly."

"This Lady Crane is the name that I must take for the god?" Arya asked quietly.

Jaqen answered with a nod of the head.

"Does this have to be done by a certain time?" Arya asked, her heart beating quickly. This was different then how she thought it would be. This wasn't a life she was taking in the heat of the moment, or to protect herself and her friends, nor was she killing out of revenge. This would be impersonal. It felt, strange. She wasn't sure how to describe the pit in her stomach.

"A girl can take her time to plan, to be careful. It does not matter to the God of Death when he get's this name, as long as it it done, he will remain appeased." Jaqen answered.

She nodded her head to show that she understood. She managed to keep her face neutral. She was pretending to be No One. No One wouldn't care who she killed as long as it was in service to the god.

"A girl should ready herself for the day. A girl must take a day to get used to her eyes once more, but Cat of the Canals needs to be on the docks early on the morrow if she is to be successful." Jaqen said and then quietly slipped out of the room.

—

It was frighteningly easy to get used to sight again, at least in the shadowy corridors of the temple. The candle light was not harsh and she was able to acclimate to the glare bit by bit. She stayed inside most of the morning, and by afternoon she braved the harsh sunlight outdoors. She didn't wander far from the temple doors and she must have kept her hands over her eyes for at least thirty minutes before she lowered them. She squinted most of the afternoon and by the time she went back inside she had a headache. But she could see, a headache seemed such a minor thing in comparison.

Fitting back into her life as Cat of the Canals was even easier. Her absence had been noticed by many of Cat's normal customers and they were happy to see her back. She had invented a lie of her being sick, but now she was fine and none the worse of ware. It seemed they bought extra from her, just to make up for lost time, and the smile she wore came easy to her lips. She still made a point not to go to the brothel where she had run into Theon. She did not want to take the chance that she might see him with her own eyes, not to mention that Cat of the Canals could look very much like Arya Stark if the wrong person was to catch a glimpse of her. She could not run the risk of him recognizing her.

Afternoons were much easier for her. It was easy to find Lady Crane. The play the woman was in was quite a popular one. Arya was still not certain how she felt about it. The characters had been ripped from Arya's life. She had known and hated most of them. The setting was in Westeros under the backdrop of the War of the Five Kings. Lady Crane herself played Cersei, it hit a chord with her more morbid sense of humor that she would in a way be killing the Queen who was on her list of people she wanted dead. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when Joffery had been poisoned on stage. Her heart ached a little when the actress who played Sansa came on stage. The story range false to her though. While she was certain Tyrion Lannister might have played a part in the death of his nephew and father, she doubted naive, gentle Sansa would do anything to help murder anyone.

In fact the whole play seemed to be a little melodramatic. Arya doubted that Queen Cersei would be a blubbering mess after she had witnessed the death of Jofferey. She would have been sad, yes, but her first reaction would have been anger, she would have wanted revenge. Arya was smart enough to realize that this was an issue with the writing, not the acting. Lady Crane was quite the actress, Arya could recognize the talent. She was the best actor of the troupe it seemed. Over the next few performances, she studied the other actors, and realized that there was one person in particular who seemed quite preoccupied with Lady Crane. The girl who played Sansa kept a close eye on the women, when she thought she wasn't being observed. And Arya could tell it wasn't awe in the girl's eyes. It was jealousy. She wanted what Lady Crane had, talent and fame. Arya put that in the back of her mind, perhaps she was the one who wanted the actress dead.

Some days she wouldn't watch the play. She would sneak into the back stage area. It was surprised at how easy was to slip in. She would simply pose herself as a washer maid and no one asked any questions. She pretended to do odd chores and remained in the background listening to what happened after performances. She would hear grumbles about lack of respect, at poor script, and it would go on and on. She noticed that Lady Crane was the only one to drink rum. She had her own bottle of it that no one else drank from. She supposed it would be easy enough to slip a poison in that. Arya would have to give that some thought.

Arya's life went on like that for several days. She would sell her shellfish and then study the entire acting troupe and watch the play. It was a fairly simple life. She wasn't nervous about the job that she was to do. She was in fact, sort of numb about the whole thing. She had decided the easy way to go about taking Lady Crane's life was the rum. She was comfortable around poison, and it would not be a bloody end. She had no hate in her heart for this women, it was simply a job to her. She did not want to make this woman suffer. She could be sure the poison was painless at the very least. Now all that remained was for her to go through with it. But for some reason she was hesitant.

On one particular morning, her mind had been on Lady Crane as she walked along the streets near the docks. Arya had just decided that in two days time she would poison the actress when she realized that she was walking past that damned brothel where she had seen Theon. At first she was a bit alarmed.

She forced herself to calm down, it was early in the day and the chances of him being there were slim. Nor was she certain that he was a regular at the place, for all she knew he was long gone from Bravos. Besides, it wasn't as if she would go in, if she just hurried up she could slip by the door without being noticed. She quickened her step, awkwardly pushing her cart before her.

She was well past the door and thought she had managed to leave the area unnoticed when a woman called from the door of the brothel "Cat, is that you?"

Arya closed her eyes, frustrated that she had been seen. She forced herself to put on a bright smile and turn around. "Aye, it's me Sage." She recognized the prostitute who had called to her.

"Well, come on then, I'm sure the Mistress would like to buy a few things from you. It's been so long since we saw you. Where have you been?" Sage answered Arya's smile with her own and her eyes portrayed a warmth there that Arya had found surprising. It seemed Cat had made an impression on the women who worked at the establishment.

Clumsily, Arya turned her cart around and hesitantly made her way back to the door. He would not be there, it's perfectly safe to go inside. At least that was what she kept telling herself. To Sage she simply said, "I was sick. Didn't meant to make anyone worry."

"It's good to see that you're better." Sage said as she watched Arya put together a wooden tray of her best clams to carry inside the brothel.

Arya noticed an old apple seller that had set up shop next to the brothel and offered the woman a bit of coin to watch Arya's cart. Then reluctantly, Arya followed Sage inside. It was darker then outside so it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

"Mistress!" Sage hollered to the woman who owned the establishment. "Look who I found outside. Wasn't it just yesterday you were saying how her shellfish was the freshest. Cat's made her way back to us."

The older woman looked up from what she was doing at a table at the far end of the room. "Cat! Welcome back, come on over, let me see what you have. We've missed you around here."

Arya quickly made her way over to Mistress and somehow managed to keep her smile in place. The faster she was out of here, the safer she would feel. "Sorry about that. I'm back now. I think you'll be happy with what I have to sell." She waited patiently and tried to keep up with the small talk as the woman looked over the clams. It was only ten minutes but it felt like hours before the woman decided on what she wanted to purchase. And it was another five before they agreed on the price.

Arya's smile was genuine once she realized she would be able to leave swiftly. She turned away from the Mistress and quickly headed for the door. She was halfway to freedom and was about to let out a sigh of relief when a solid body stepped into her path. She came up short, her wooden tray in front of her had just barely missed a collision. For a moment she just stared at the chest of the person who stood before her, finally she willed herself to look up.

When she did, she found herself looking into the Theon Greyjoy's dark eyes, she saw the shock in them and she heard his sharp intake of breath. He had recognized her.