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Chapter 13

Damn this horse, Adriena thought the as animal stepped into a puddle, making her wrench forward on her saddle.

The lengthy, overgrown road before them was narrow and twisting, barely room for two men to ride side by side without being swallowed up by the gray forest around them. However, Vyncent remained by her side, both of them ignoring the branches that scratched and swiped at their faces.

Theon Greyjoy rode behind them, and Vyncent did not want his sister to have to feel the oily little man's eyes on her back by herself while he rode ahead. The smirk Greyjoy always had on his face made Vyncent and Adriena both uncomfortable. Did he know something they did not? The thought was unnerving.

After that night in Pinkmaiden, after leaving Adriena scowling at the chamber door, Robb returned to Lord Piper's abandoned solar, drawing up plans with his lords and men.

As he walked to the solar, Robb started to think about Adriena. A foolish girl, he thought, to be walking when so many are ready to open her up without remorse. And although, they had only said a few sentences to one another, she seemed irritable and bold. This vexed Robb, knowing this temperament would get her killed, but he sealed that passage and made himself not care about the girl's mannerisms. If she were alive and safe, that was all that mattered.

It was decided that a hundred and fifty men would remain at the holdfast they'd taken, whilst the rest of them traveled onward.

Catelyn believed it would be better to leave the two "Hoff savages", as they were dubbed, there in Pinkmaiden, because they would only weigh down progress, but Robb remained adamant. He had learned in the training yard at Winterfell that sometimes your first reaction and instinct, was the right one and his instinct told him to keep the two strangers close.

So, as the sun rose on the horizon, marking the second day since Pinkmaiden had been reclaimed by Northern forces, a long line of men of horses, wagons and foot soldiers marched off toward the east.

That had been over a week ago, and with each passing day, Adriena's home grew farther and farther away.

This was not what she used to hope it would be like. She had pictured large fields of green grass with the blue silk of the sky above, no trees, no shrubs...just open space, a place to run without a tree or cliff or river in your way, endless freedom.

A half bitter, half nostalgic smile came to Adriena's lips as she thought of her girlhood dreams. When she was young, she could not recall exactly how old, she had told Vyncent of her hopes of one day visiting the place of her imaginings. Vyncent, being much older and wiser than her, told her the truth: that she may never ever go there.

Now, looking back, it seemed so stupid to have prayed to Natalya for...this. This bleak and cold back road, on a horse that seemed intent on making her fall and a dire wolf somewhere hidden in the trees...no, she'd much rather be at home.

The path went on and on, twisting and turning, even once going over an old bridge that made Adriena's heart stutter in fear and her knuckles turn white around the reigns. Still, she kept up her stony mask. "Nothing good ever comes when people know your fears", Arwin had said.

Later that night, the troop finally made camp in an abandoned field that had once supported rich crops. The snow was powdery and puffed upwards with each step Robb made through the busy camp. Tents were being erected, horses watered and fed, stew and broth being made.

Adriena winced as Vyncent pulled her down off the wretched animal she had been seated upon all day. Her brother gripped her arm tightly as they made their way toward the steward named Calys, the man they'd been told to stick by.

Her brother's grip hurt, but she did not fight. His hold on her arm was safe, a life-line back to home in Hoff, but at the same time his grip was threatening. He had ranted and raved for almost an hour that night and for a brief moment, but she knew he was not angry enough to strike her. She had not been cold enough to Robb Stark; she had even felt flattered at one of his damned remarks! She felt an odd weight of guilt inside her. The guilt of betrayal.

Avoiding and dodging burly bodies that sped past, Adriena and Vyncent reached the steward who stood behind a large cart and appeared to be counting the items inside. Her brother let up when they reached Calys, her arm throbbing in pain and a pang of irritation bubbling up in her chest.

"Calys." Vyncent addressed gruffly.

The old man looked to the siblings with disinterest but his thick brow creased ever so slightly. "Hm, the Hoff wildlings...come, I assume you're able to put up a tent."

Many long, blistering hours later, the large tent was up, and many stewards and squires bustled about inside the structure as they tended to their betters' needs and prepared supper. Adriena sat on the cot she'd been given, staring dully at the melting snow under her boots. Vyncent lay on his cot, his large hands under his head, his eyes closed although he wasn't asleep.

She looked around the tent, seeing the faces she did not know and the way they worked like a hive full of buzzing bees, all moving around and working.

With boredom, the dark haired young woman awkwardly laid back on the cot as well, the wound on her side pulsed in another painful reminder of why she was here. Her arms resting on her chest, she stared at the dark fabric that made up the roof.

Was this to be her home now? A tent? Oddly enough, she felt nothing at the thought. Not anger nor sadness...perhaps she was so deep in the sea of her mourning and anger that the grief that this new thought would normally present, was lost. Suddenly the old memory of her time in the Natalya's Deep Wood flashed before her eyes.

Natalya's Wood, was a special place, a place where prayers were heard by the goddess' nymph children and carried on the wind to Natalya. The grove where one prayed was small, secluded, near the old Cat's eye hot springs where people who just married went to bathe together, to cleanse themselves of their old lives, their old wrongs, before marriage. The trees were set in a large circle, the oak trees so tall that in the height of summer, the leaves were so thick the sun could barely get through to the little grassy clearing below. The oaks grew in a circle, and it was there that Adriena walked to at night, to speak to her mother though she hardly remembered the woman and what memory she had of her started to fade more and more. Sometimes she would fall asleep, only to be awoken by the songs of the birds and quickly dash home before the sun awoke the roosters as well.

Adriena was never more at peace than when she laid in that clearing, the thick tree trunks forming a protective, comforting barrier around her. She lay thinking of that when Vyncent rose up a while later and nudged her suddenly, alerting her that supper was served

The heart-tree was old, the gnarled roots showing and the pale trunk battered by time and wind and rain. But it was a heart-tree nonetheless, its red eyes watching over this little bit of South for the North where all its fellow trees had been hacked down long ago.

When he had left Winterfell, he had said one last prayer in the Godswood for his family and this rebellion he had just started and had almost forgotten the peace he found sitting in the utter silence under the Old Gods' eyes.

Before supper, he and many other nobles and soldiers from the North had come to this heart-tree, proclaiming it a sign from the Old Gods that they were on the right path and victory was assured. Robb had replied that the Old Gods did not assure anything and to not let the presence of the tree affect their skill on the battle field.

A few stayed to pray, but soon left and all that remained was Robb, even when supper was called did he stay there, sitting on an over turned log, his sword by his side, Grey Wind on the other.

This Godswood was so unlike Winterfell's: there were no pools of steaming, murky water that reflected like glass, the trees branches did not stretch up proudly toward the sky with a thousand blood-red leaves fluttering softy. No, instead this Godswood had been abandoned years and years ago, shrubs overgrowing about the base of the trunk, it's leaves hanging limply in clusters, and it was quite a lot smaller than he was used to seeing. Nonetheless it was quiet and peaceful, just like at home.

Bowing his head, he prayed for the first time since he left Winterfell.

Men are disgusting, Adriena thought with a grimace as she watched yet another man pull a whore onto his lap, laughing gaily while he ran his hands up and over her thighs, her belly and stopping just below her breasts.

Vyncent and Adriena sat outside the circle of stewards and ate their stew quietly, the Hoff siblings ever vigilant as a shadow cat on the hunt. She noticed how everyone had their own particular circles, same as in Hoff, the lords, the knights, their squires, the foot soldiers and finally the stewards...then them.

Adriena was at first shocked to see such a woman in the middle of this...camp, but when she thought of it, it made sense. "Men have needs, and every once in a while a man needs to find a woman to...mate with...for many reasons." her aunt had said to her. It wouldn't shock her if she found out Robb Stark himself had himself a pretty whore in his bed at that moment, why he was not there with the rest of them.

Wonderful, she thought with a rueful chuckle, we've been given to a man who beds whores. Not even a man yet, she thought bitterly. He looked as old as she and was she out there playing war and calling herself queen? No certainly not! So why was this boy, this Stark, marching toward the south with all these men and that bloody wolf-beast on his back?

She was broken from her thoughts when the knight who owned that whore stood up and demanded she sing, the smile never leaving his face. Acting shy, the buxom woman stood, her pale flaxen hair falling down to her thighs, and opened her mouth to sing. The notes were flat and some overly high, but the men seemed enthralled with her song.

Thankfully, it was over soon and the men dissolved away to their tents for sleep. Adriena and her brother walked back to the steward tent, sparing not a glance at anyone and went to their cots without a word, a look or a care.

The ropes burned her wrists, scratching and burning against her skin until her wrists were raw and nearly bleeding. The revolting, deafening jibes of the town's people made her ears ring. Their words were lost among a sea of other insults but still her heartbeat and her breathing were the thundered in her ears as the executioner unsheathed the golden sword, sharp and cold as ice, and started towards her...

Adriena shot up from the cot, her unbound hair falling down her shoulders and resting on her heaving bosom. She panted for breathe as though she had just run for her life, and looked about the room she had just awoken in. Over a dozen sleeping bodies littered the inside of the tent and it was quiet.

The fear from that dream had settled as heavy as lead in her stomach.

Leaning forward, mindful of her still healing side, she rested her hands on her bent knees, trying to calm herself into a state that would allow her to sleep again.

After a long while, she swung her feet over the edge of the cot, finding her boots in the dim light, and stood. Years of ritual drove her from the tent and to the forest not twenty feet away.

Robb was not sure how long he had been there, but it must have been quite some time as the sounds from the far off camp had died away some while ago.

No matter how long he'd been there, he still thought, prayed and visited old memories; some that made him want to weep.

He folded his hands before him and rested his chin on his knuckles. What would his father think, waging war on the crown he and other northern nobles had fought to win? Eddard Stark was a man of honour, so why had he been arrested and executed? Robb knew, beyond a doubt, that his father would never go against the King. So why arrest him?

There had been whispers, stemming from Stannis that the Queen and her brother, the Kingslayer, had carried on an incestuous relationship that sprouted forth the three children that were said to be Robert Baratheon's.

Robb frowned. It was a sickening, monstrous notion, but...it was possible wasn't it? Those three children looked more like Cersei than Robert, and didn't have any of the latter in them. Robb remembered back in the training yard at Winterfell, during the time the King had come to make his father Hand. Robb recalled how he and that little shit called Joffrey had sparred and when he'd won, Joffrey threw a hissy fit and stormed off. Sons took after their father's, they said, but Robb had never seen nor heard of a time that King Robert threw a fit like that.

He scratched Grey Wind behind the ears, earning a half nuzzle in the dire wolf's sleeping state. No, he thought, not possible. Who could ever see their sibling like...that? Joffrey was simply spoiled, he figured. A shit excuse for a king.

Suddenly a branch snapped, and Grey Wind shot up and bared his mighty teeth.

Robb stood, tense and ready, but instead of a large burly attacker, he saw a woman in her night dress, Adriena from Hoff, holding to a tree and staring at Grey Wind in a mix of shock and fear.