The sound of a raven squawking punched Arya awake. The shock caused her to jolt upright, and for a moment panic gripped her as she felt the press of the thick branches and solid wooden planks encasing her fragile body. She took a moment, calmed her breathing and heart rate before taking stock of the situation. Remembering she was in a woodpile Arya relaxed her limbs reducing the pressure and easing the pain of sharp twigs sticking into bare flesh.

Peering through the branches, there was an orange glow off to the east, and the level of light indicated dawn was upon the castle. Already there were sounds of castle life in the still morning air. The pots and pans bashed together as breakfast was prepared, and there was the barking of orders that could only come from grumpy soldiers still tired after long night duties. Cursing herself for falling asleep Arya eased some of the dew-laden branches aside trying to detect the two guards who'd been standing near her pyre. There was no sign of them or the sound of their breathing, and she knew if she didn't move while the light was still dim, she'd be stuck there all day.

Even as Arya squeezed her lithe body between some of the thicker branches there came a shouting and swearing sounding much closer than any other sounds. She darted out of the wood and rolled onto her knees, dagger drawn; ready to strike. Three soldiers, their armour looking smoke damaged, marched towards the steps to the upper courtyard pushing five haggard townsfolk before them. Arya backed up finding herself behind the last of the large pyres, using as cover to observe the newcomers. The five civilians were being corralled, one man was beaten by a nasty soldier using a wooden staff to encourage his prisoners. They were dragging back-breaking loads of wood behind them.

Arya glanced behind her knowing there was no escape through the gates now she'd left it so late in the morning, and aware the previous night she'd been spotted by someone from the main castle. Were they watching her now?

There was the yell of a woman and looking back the breath caught in Arya's throat. It was Myra, she was one of those hauling the sacks, and screwing up her eyes to get a better look Arya was sure the man next to her was one of those from the raid last night. How has it gone wrong? What could she do to help them?

The hesitation while Arya tried to decide what to do nearly cost her freedom. A sound from the wall to her left. The clattering of boots as a guard stepped out onto the stone walkway to begin his patrol of that side of the castle. If he looked down, he had to see her.

Staying as low as possible Arya scurried back from the final pyre keeping it between her and the group approaching the macabre bonfires. After a few yards, she reached the edge of the courtyard, and a glance over the side showed a long drop of some thirty feet to both rocks and water as the river swept below. Knowing she couldn't remain still Arya dropped onto her belly and lowered her legs over the side. The short grass was heavy with morning dew making her hands slippery. Lifting her head, Arya saw the group had already reached the first of the pyres with two of them dropping their loads so they could be added to the heaps of branches already pushed up against the tall blacked poles.

With no option, she slipped down thankful the rock face was rugged enough to contain plenty of handholds. Even so, it was all Arya could do to stop a rising panic as she scrambled down far enough to be safe from scrutiny. The sun was peeking above the trees on the other side of wide meandering waters of river Mander, flooding the area with warm light. There was a boat heading to the centre of the river and Arya hoped it was just fisherman out for an early catch that wouldn't be looking her way. Surveying the rock face, the young woman thought there might be a way past the wall to her right if she traversed across that way.

With the water lapping against the rocks below it was tough to hear shouts of the guards meaning Arya concentrated on getting to freedom, even forcing out the image of the captured Myra from her mind. If she wanted to help the woman, then Arya had to make sure she freed herself. Guilt gnawed at her conscience knowing her actions seemed to be causing more harm than good. After sending the raven to Winterfell the previous day, she should have sat tight as Jon had told her. But that wasn't her way. It wasn't the Stark way.

Her throat was dry Arya slowly worked her way across the slick rocks towards a possible exit. The closer she made it to the base of the wall the lower she was forced to climb to find the best route to traverse. She remembered Bran at Winterfell and how easily he would swarm up and down such climbs, and he probably would have called Arya a little weakling if he'd seen how poorly she was doing. It was another image Arya had to purge from her head. Her muscles were burning with exhaustion the shaking was severe enough to control without throwing in the distress of the memory of those she'd lost.

Reaching the rock face below the base of the wall, Arya realised the jutting out elements that looked like handy rocks from a distance were blades driven into the rock to deter such climbers as herself. Rusted and damaged by years of neglect they looked brittle but their sharp edges in a cross shape making it almost impossible to grasp. Looking down, however, Arya could see those near the surface of the river were in even worse shape with many snapped off, probably being swamped by the river when the water levels rose.

She descended again, but the rocks were smoother and even more treacherous. Arya felt herself slip and desperately lunged at a possible safe handhold. She grabbed it, clinging on with her fingertips, feeling them lose their grip as she scrabbled with her feet to find some purchase. One foot caught a hold allowing her to propel herself upwards for a moment and gratefully grasp the jutting out rock. Taking a breath, Arya shook one hand trying to release the burning tension. She would need to find a place to rest. Her legs were shaking, and it looked as though she would have to climb back up when she passed the wall with already exhausted limbs.

Her foot slipped on the smooth rock.

Arya grabbed out with her free arm, but the smooth rock offered not grip, and despite her slender frame the weight became too much for her one fatigued hand to hold her in place.

Arya plunged the final few feet into the rock-strewn river.

Nearly a cliff hanger!

But will she survive?

As i am in a playful mood it will take at least three reviews.

I have an alternative ending so pay up or the Stark girl dies! You have one week