Chapter 5

"Relax your bow arm." Robb watched his two brothers angled toward the target awaiting Bran's next attempt. He should not have been as surprised when Arya's shot replaced Bran's and out marked the younger boy's. She always strayed toward such activities, unlike other ladies of her age and their other sister, Sansa. He and Jon laughed as the Bran raced after Arya in all their childhood splendor. Robb's mind ran with similar memories that drifted further away with each day, but as he heard his father's chuckle bellow down from the balcony, he enjoyed this moment with his family because something warned him they would not have many more like it.

The rest of the day proved more eventful than expected. A deserter had been spotted, and his father delivered swift justice. However, the deserter's words sat heavily upon Robb,and he could see the effect they had on Ned as well. Robb had seen few men die, but he knew something about this death was different from others. The man believed his words and stayed true to them until his last breath. He pondered the beheading on their trek back to Winterfell. The Whites were things of legend and nothing more, besides wouldn't have someone other than a deserter have let them know?

His thoughts continued, until their party drew to a stop. A large furred figure lay just off their path. Each step closer held a heaviness he had not experienced before. His vision flashed between a point of view and his own. The view was of the heap what he now knew to be a wolf.

"It's a freak." Theon voiced his ignorance. No, not a freak, but a sign. A warning confirming the darkness that clung to him as of late.

"It's a direwolf." Ned's words gave voice to his concerns.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall." His comment seemed foolish even to himself, but someone needed to voice it.

"Now, there are five." The comment weighed on them all.

Whimpering came from the other side of the wolf, and Robb crept around to see the origin. Five smaller, furry pups came into his view, each crying for its mother.

"Do you want to hold one?" Jon passed a pup into Bran's arms.

Robb stood in silence, while the other men discussed the fate of the pups. His gaze lingered on the innocent creatures so out of place and alone. They did not deserve to die; they just needed a mother. Jon came into his view. Simply lacking a mother could not be allowed to justify death.

"Put away your blade."

There were few times when he questioned his father, but now added to the list as Ned supported the execution of the wolves. His mind scrambled for a reason to save the beings.

"Lord Stark." Jon's voice halted the discussion. The cries of the animals filled the pause. "There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them." Silence followed his statement, and each pair of eyes moved unto to Ned.

"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves." Robb released a breath and eagerly stepped down to accept the pups before his father changed his mind. He placed the first pair into Theon's arms, giving him a warning glare as he did so. The next two, he held onto. One quickly burrowed into his furs. Its trusting eyes burned into Robb's, and he knew Jon was right. This pup was fated for him.

And when Jon found a pup of his own and looked at him, he wondered if he saw himself in them like Robb had.

That night lying in bed, Robb slid his fingers through the male pup fur. He meant to leave the direwolf with the kennel master for the night but could not bring himself to leave the pup anymore alone. Then, he told himself he'd make it sleep on the floor even going as far as placing his extra pillow by the bed for it, but last as long as it took for the pup to whine for attention.

So there they were, the little creature curled into Robb's side on top of his fur covers. He had yet to decide upon a name for the animal, and despite being recently orphaned and taken from its home, he had warmed up to Robb which showed in its insistence to remain by his side even in sleep, but Robb did not seem to mind the extra presence.

Sleep came easily with his new companion despite still not wanting to jostle the pup. Eira has yet to appear in his dreams again, but that did not stop him from hoping each night would offer him a glimpse of her because he had kept his promise. She remained in his memories, and he thought of her often. When Old Nan told her stories, thoughts of Eira filled his mind. When he passed the stables, he thought of their time together in the stables of Castle Black, and most frequently when he'd catch himself fingering his scar, she'd come to mind. Thinking of her caused him to question if she thought of him or even remembered him. Surely she did. She must when she looked upon his matching scar.

He had begun to wonder if he'd ever stop thinking of her, until that dream. He'd felt suffocating fear and loneliness paired with a cold so deep it chilled his bones, and when he'd seen her hand, he knew he would never forget her no matter how much time passed.

Much to Eira's discontent, she and Orel only remained still for a short time before setting off into another cold, hard journey. The company was more pleasant than she expected, and they quickly fell into a routine together. Each had their role including Orel's companion, an eagle. The bird was the largest she had seen and the most magnificent. When it was not flying and searching for food, it would perch on Orel's arm or cleaning its feathers by their fire which is what it is doing now.

Eira savored the smell of roasting meat as she stoked their small fire. That was her job each night, building the fires. Orel would use his gift to hunt through Aras or keep watch for approachers. Fortunately, they had encountered none so far, but she suspected Orel had switched their path to avoid doing so. She carefully removed their mugs from the fire and mixed herbs she had picked throughout the day's trek. It was a mixture her aunt had shown her, and one she suspected saved her from illness countless times. It also held a taste both she and Orel enjoyed.

"Our tea is ready." She crossed around the fire to offer him his mug. He thanked her as he always did. He was surprised the first time she had handed him a mug of the concoction but had been pleased by the concoction. He had taken up a nickname for her after, witch he called her. He meant it as a jest, but the more he used it and the more time they spent together, it slowly became an endearment.

"What do we do without your potions?" He sipped from his cup as she warmed her hands against her own. "Surely, we would have caught cold and withered into dust by now."

"Have you not heard the stories, Orel?" She dropped her voice and caught his gaze through the fire. "We would not wither but rise with blue eyes and ice for skin, never to feel warmth again except from the flesh we fed upon."

"You and your stories, witch. They haunt my dreams each night. You would think I would have learned not to listen by now."

"You love my tales. You once said they were the highlight of your day."

"Yes, when on days when the snow blocks out the sun, and the fire which you tell them beside is the only light we've seen all day." He set his empty mug aside and stretched out across his furs for the night. "You have a long day ahead tomorrow, Eira. Get some rest. I feel we are close to your calling."

"Goodnight, Orel." Eira laid back and stared up at the stars. She knew they were getting close as well. Her dreams had become more vivid. She could taste the water it sought out from the stream each night for the last few moons, and just last night, she swore she smelt wet fur and copper from the creature's dinner. Their senses were becoming more conjoined, and Orel said soon she would find herself transporting while awake. This both excited and worried her, but at least it kept her mind off other things.

She drifted into sleep that night wondering what foreign sensations she would experience that night as the while caressing the scar on her palm.

Orel spoke the truth. The next morning, Orel awoke her early with a finger to his lips.

"Quickly." They started to gather their things as fast and as quietly as they could. A blinding light flashed before Eira's eyes, her belongings falling from her hands. She recovered rapidly and caught herself on the tree to her left. Orel appeared at her side with a steadying hand on her shoulder. He kept his tone low. "You are close. The visions will become frequent and possibly painful until you meet."

She rubbed her eyelids but managed to grab her belongings once again under Orel's watchful gaze. He scanned their surroundings while maintaining a close distance in case another vision overtook her. A presence lurked nearby, and had yet to make itself known. Once Eira finished her collecting, Orel grasped her hand and led her away from their camp for the past night. Another overwhelming flash paired with the sound of heavy breathing crowded her senses.

Orel continued to pull her despite her tripping feet. The sound of the other party grew closer, and neither he nor Aras had caught sight of the being. "Eira, I need you to hang on a little longer. We must get to safety first."

The quietness of the forest allowed him to catch the noise of breaths filling the air and the quickening of steps. His pulling became frantic. Whatever it was, there was more than one.

"I-I can't see. We have to slow down." She tried to keep pace, but he was moving too fast for her, and her senses were being overpowered. Her body's sensations were becoming lost to her. She no longer felt Orel's hand in her own. The iciness air she had accustomed to was being replaced by a warmth that had become familiar. "Orel, wait. It's her. She's here."

She used what little power remained to free herself from his grasp to come to a stop. Her knees gave out and met the snow covered ground. The feeling was lost to her, but she saw it the same except she was peering at herself kneeling in the snow feet away from her current perspective. She had not seen herself for weeks. Her clothing was tattered and covered in earth from endless travel. Unruly hair covered her head. A freckled face managed to appear beneath various layers of fur, but the most shocking was her eyes now cloudy and staring at the being she currently inhabited.