Jon Snow

Ghost had never been so overwrought before. From the day Jon and his brothers had found the direwolf pups clinging to the corpse of their mother Ghost had been an anomaly. In addition to his striking garnet eyes and chalky coat, he never made a sound. Unlike his siblings who were keen on starting up a howling racket and letting their thoughts be known, Ghost was as hushed as a skulking wraith. The direwolf's inaudibility only compounded his seeming dearth of emotion, rendering him constantly brooding.

Of all his siblings, Shaggydog was essentially the worst of the pack as he was perpetually impulsive and noisy, akin to Rickon. And in a roundabout way this made sense because Shaggydog was also pure pitch, the opposite of his unperturbed brother.

Nymeria and Grey Wind were apt to engage with Shaggydog, and Bran's unnamed wolf wasn't opposed to joining in. There was only one sibling that compared to Ghost in composure: Lady, his half sister Sansa's companion. Lady was lithe and all smoothed edges; she was so well manicured it was difficult to imagine she was not a domesticated pet by birth. She refrained from almost all versions of play with her litter mates and found business and filth almost as distasteful as Sansa herself. She was always composed and courteous.

In that aspect she was the most like Ghost; a similarity that Jon found nigh absurd as he and Sansa couldn't be further removed from each other. But that was the joy in being a wild animal, there was no social standard for uphold or propriety to maintain. The only absolutes were survival and the strength of the pack. Jon was very envious. He had always thought of the Starks as his pack but he had no choice but to vacate the only home he'd ever known when Lord Stark departed with the girls.

It's not that I didn't desire to forge an identity of my own making and cast away the shroud of Ned Stark's bastard, and the Night's Watch would be the perfect opportunity. I hoped to find as much prosperity and renown as Uncle Benjen at the Wall, but nonetheless with father gone, I didn't feel welcome at Winterfell any longer.

Jon didn't want to poison his memories of Winterfell with the cold venom that Catelyn Stark directed at him so he swallowed any reservations and swore the oath. The adjustment to his new home had been rough and he was still figuring out where he fit into the hierarchy of the Night's Watch. He was derisively called Lord Snow more often than his actual name and all hope of his uncle guiding his transition from bastard to Sworn brother evaporated once Benjen left on another ranging mission. He would be left to experience the baptism of fire that was grappling with Alliser Thorne's vitriol and the belligerence of his Sworn Brothers.

Jon couldn't be too bitter as Benjen was First Ranger and had his own responsibilities, responsibilities Jon wished to inherit in time through hard work. But it still stung that his uncle had embarked on an assignment so soon after they arrived. And worse of all nobody had acknowledged Jon's name day of 15 years.

I wasn't used to pageantry or excessive celebration of my name day but I had appreciated the subdued and subtle well wishes that my brothers, Arya and our father bestowed upon me. It would be less of a dream than I initially thought and a hardship I would have to accustom to for life.

And Ghost was also having a difficult time acclimating to the new environment. The direwolf had remained relatively calm as he bid farewell to his siblings with only a tinge of moroseness to mar his demeanor. But Ghost had become increasingly agitated as time went on and Jon assumed it had to do with the loss of his family and adapting to a home where he had less liberty to move around. However, Ghost's current behavior was beyond any restlessness he displayed prior and Jon was concerned.

Jon did everything he could think of to relieve Ghost's distress but it was all for naught. Ghost remained indifferent to Jon's attempted belly rubs, a visit to the top of the Wall and even a bit of pork offered under the table. By nightfall Jon hadn't the slightest notion of what to do. He prayed against all reason that Ghost would settle down during the night while they slept in Jon's sleeping cell in Hardin's Tower. But Ghost only paced incessantly and bared his teeth in frustration. Jon had decided to open the door to the yard clad in the velvet of evening and let Ghost work through his irritation by himself. Nevertheless, as Jon moved to undo the latch of his doorway Ghost went for his heel.

The grip of Ghost's fangs was a far cry from smarting his foot, but Jon was alarmed at the strength of Ghost's mandible.

I am at wits end with Ghost.

He then exhaled deeply through the small gap left between his grinding teeth.

"Let go of me Ghost. I've tried to understand whatever is irking you, but you refuse to meet me halfway. I'm bone tired from training today and want to get as close to enough hours of sleep as possible. You're free to go for the night, so let go of me."

Ghost just looked at Jon stubbornly with a glare that held all the intelligence of a man.

Jon labored to end the clamp Ghost had made on his foot but Ghost stood firm.

"I said let go of me! Unless you've got something to tell me leave me in peace Godsdamnit!"

Ghost then released Jon's foot and caught him by surprise. He jumped up and placed his paws on Jon's shoulder holding him still. Jon had no choice but to exchange looks with the direwolf and he was taken captive by the misery seething in Ghost's scarlet optics.

In the depths of the red irises did I finally comprehend: Ghost had felt something happen, and it wasn't good.

Jon gazed intently at Ghost and for a split second he was no longer in his own body; he was removed from all tangibility. The sensation should have jarred Jon but it was inexplicably familiar and Jon noticed his thoughts were much sharper and abbreviated. Instinct and emotion seemed the common denominators in how he processed the world; almost animal-like. And for a fleeting moment Jon saw and felt a greatsword plunge into the heart of a dainty and too trusting direwolf.

The names Lady and Sansa reverberated and drowned his senses.

Sansa Stark

Their initial passage through the woods was almost unbearable. Sansa was fraught with worry and shot nerves, while her sister had only one thought at present: finding Nymeria. She even seemed immune to Sansa's periodic whispers and shrieks when she thought she heard an animal or tripped over a root. But it seemed that some Gods took pity on them and Nymeria revealed herself.

Arya was elated when they finally found her. She sat self-assured with perfect posture, but there was still a wild gleam in her eye: just like Arya. It took her no time at all to launch herself at the direwolf. In a way they merged back into one being, two halves returned to one whole. Sansa hated to admit it, but she was jealous. She would never have that with Lady again, and now she had a frightening ability to grapple with.

Her reality had been tilted on its axis, all laws of nature mired in chaos. She felt empty. Within her was an unrelenting vacuum that devoured all remnants of how Lady soothed and delighted her. Sansa never fathomed she would have to return to an existence where Lady was absent. Even the time before her brothers brought home the direwolf pups as a younger child felt dull and hollow. For a few short months she had actually felt like a true Stark. It didn't matter that she took after her lady mother or detested the untraditional pursuits, she was still worthy of a direwolf.

Just for a little while Sansa knew her place in the family was right and that she was not a mistake, unlike her sister who so embodied the Northern spirit. But now Lady was dead and she was on the run. Save her surname, Sansa couldn't feel less of a Stark then she did at that moment.

Starks were above indiscriminate shows of malversation, they were the First Men and lived according to an unyielding code of honor. But apparently she wasn't beyond such villainy. Sansa truly wished that she did not kill all of those people at the inn. It didn't matter that some of them were vile, it was never intention to murder anyone. A true lady wouldn't be capable of such malice. And maybe this showed that she was no true lady, but something else entirely.

Most likely this was retribution. She deserved to be punished for her misguided affection for Joffrey and her disloyalty to her house. Sansa carried herself as if being a Northerner was undesirable; she far superior to a life of faith, simplicity and family. For her crimes, the truest symbol of her Stark heritage had been slaughtered, and she would always carry this with her.

Sansa brought her thoughts back to her sister. Her elation was palpable and infectious. The eldest sister found herself unable to remain aloof to Arya's happiness. Her little sister no matter how much of a terror had helped her when no one else could, and she deserved this boon. Undoubtedly their journey would be difficult, and that was only due to her lack of survival know-how. They also had no concrete destination in mind, but this could be a lesson. A lesson to trust in her sister and overcome what seemed like a gaping void between the two. Nymeria and Arya were both sharp and capable. Sansa vowed that she would do her best to not be a burden but follow the lead of her sister when it was necessary.

She moved closer to the large mass that was Arya and Nymeria wrestling each other. Her little sister was laughing and seemed oblivious to the outside world.

I loath to spoil the reunion but I also want to thank Nymeria for her loyalty.

Sansa spoke, "Thank you Nymeria. You had no obligation to stay as my actions are what forced you to leave. But you remained right here, waiting for when we would need you. You are as brave as the princess you were named for."

Arya nodded in agreement. "You're such a good and smart girl. I'm so sorry for throwing rocks at you, and I promise to never force you to leave again. We are a pack, and together we will survive." Arya even glanced at Sansa for a moment, and her older sister's heart soared.

Sansa then gingerly lowered to her knees and joined Arya in petting the direwolf. She even received a few licks of a bristly tongue for her troubles.

Eventually Nymeria grew restless and claustrophobic from all of the attention. She gently nudged her way out and made eye contact with both girls. Once sure she had their attention she swiveled her head to what lay before

Arya laughed once more. "It seems it's time to go."

"Indeed it does. Nymeria, lead the way."

The group fell into relative silence and only the occasional fluttering branch or Nymeria's snorts broke it.

The pervasive darkness seemed to swallow up most sound and Sansa feared what might emerge from it whenever she fell noisily. And she fell quite often. She was sure Arya was shooting her scathing looks but thankfully she couldn't see.

Nymeria and Arya's nimble movements reminded Sansa of the tale of Jenny of Oldstones and how she danced with such grace. It was not only tragically romantic but quite morose.

She found herself humming the accompanying song as she accrued a bruise upon each new verse.

The enthrall of the tune transported Sansa to a time far removed from the present. The lyrics came forth on their own accord.

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall

From winter to summer then winter again

'Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave,…

Sansa made sure to keep a modest volume to her words, but her voice carried throughout the spruces and pines that studded the forest shores of the ruby ford. The melody ensconced the Stark sisters and Nymeria in a shield of sorts that protect from the precarious situation Sansa had unwittingly forced them into.

Sansa even thought she heard her sister murmuring along to the song and was glad that she could at least provide her sister with temporary solace.

But like all songs must end, Jenny's lament was closed and stowed away to be visited another time.

And hopefully a cheerier time than this.

The girls resumed their wordless march for several more minutes until Arya halted abruptly and caught Sansa who was about to fall forward from stopping without forewarning.

Once Sansa had regained her balance, Arya turned her head and scrutinized Sansa.

"How did you do that? Then in the inn? Were you planning on doing that, and how long have you known you could do that?" Arya rattled off.

Sansa wasn't sure how to respond as she had nothing rational to say. Words could not convey just how overcome with contrition and fright she was. But her grief was the greatest weight upon her as she had lost two things she loved and prided herself on: her sweet direwolf and her voice. Her skill in courtesies and singing had been some of her greatest accomplishments, but these were only made possible due to the power of her voice. And now that power was perverted into something wicked.

"I am not quite sure what "that" was. I didn't intend to hurt all of those people or leave the crossroads inn in shambles. Frankly, it was frightening and I never want to do it again. I could have killed everyone, save father! And with my own voice too!" Sansa cried out and hugged herself tight trying to contain her sniffling.

Arya stood before her torn between sympathy and fascination.

"If you were to have killed the Lannisters and their household I would say good riddance."

Sansa's face shot up in horror, "Arya, how could you say that? We had friends there as well, Jeyne, Varly, Vayon, Jory and not to mention that Myrcella and Tommen are perfectly innocent," she shrieked out.

Arya grew exasperated. "Well of course I didn't mean all of the Lannisters, Myrcella and Tommen are harmless enough, but you would have done a great service to the realm in eliminating that hateful woman and her eldest vile spawn. And of course none of the Northmen warranted death. Also, have no right to judge me! If you hadn't bold faced lied to the King, Lady would still be alive. You brought this upon us with your dishonesty and incindinary fit! I am the one who got us out of there, you stood there as still as the statues in the Crypts!"

Anger and sorrow bloomed in Sansa's chest and threatened to sprout beyond her control. Oh how I want to strike Arya at this moment. How could my sister be so cruel as to accuse me of orchestrating our predicament? In truth, at that moment in the inn, she had prayed for death.

"Do you really think me so heartless as to plan something like this? I had no other choice but to placate Joffrey as he is my betrothed, defying the Crown Prince before the King and almost the entirety of his household, would be suicde. And do not for one second think I wanted Lady to die to cause such pain. I was ready for the Stranger to spirit me away from all of that calamity I made."

Arya took the rebuke passively.

Sansa continued, "Do not presume to know my head or my heart. I made a mistake and I will not deny that. But do not forget your own culpability in antagonizing the prince. There were other ways for you to have dispelled the situation, or even better you could have refrained from putting Mycah in danger, by...simply...doing...what...you...were...told." Sansa spat out.

Arya underwent a rapid succession of fleeting emotions. Sansa had never seen her sister so out outraged and prepared herself for her wrath, but the attack never came and Arya's expression melted from irate to chagrined and finally to wounded. All fire had gone out with the water that was Sansa's rebuttals, and left behind was a scared little girl who had come far too close to death mere hours earlier.

She then began to sob, her true age shining through her obstainant veneer. Even more shocking was that she threw herself into Sansa's embrace and clutched her tight. Arya's uncharacteristic demonstration of grief struck Sansa dumb and she failed to reciprocate the hug until her own fury burned away and the strain of the situation weighed her down as well.

She clutched Arya in earnest and the girls struggled with forcing out apologies. None of them were articulate but the sisters knew what they meant all of the same.

Arya is a wonderful sister and I just never paid enough attention until now. And she feels the same. We're all we have left we and it won't do at all for us to continue our petty hostilities. We are sisters and that is what matters.

Nymeria curled around the girls to ward off all threats and give them comfort. She alternated between snuggling into the laps of the girls and whined when the tears reached their zenith. But like a raging fever breaks, the girls' ailment of melancholy slowly dissipated.

Sansa was the first one to speak, "What I said was cruel and untrue. You saved me, and exercised honor in defending Mycah. It was I who acted the coward, but I think you've given me a chance at redemption. It would have been much simpler to abandon me, but you instead took me with you and braved running away with me, useless, in tow."

Sansa smiled slightly and stroked Arya's wayward hair.

Arya snorted and wiped her snot on the sleeve of her robe. Her eyes began to dry.

"No Sansa. I was also wrong. I didn't consider the impossible situation you were put in and I am the reason Lady was murdered. I sent Nymeria away when she and I were the party at fault for assaulting the prince. Although, I will never apologize for saving Nymeria or standing up to Joffrey, but I did let my impulses get the better of me. It was as clear as daylight on your face that you were as stunned as I was, and even more rattled than I when you screamed. You are incapable of any true evil and I understand that now."

Sansa's surprise and relief showed on her face but she didn't withdraw from the moment.

"I guess we can both concur that we've said things in desperation that were indeed false. We've both made mistakes, and it would be a lie to absolve either of us of any wrongdoing. However, this is where our paths have led, and I am wholeheartedly grateful that Nymeria is still alive and with us."

Sansa paused and peered assuredly at Arya. She then took her hand and squeezed it.

"The future is uncertain and it is only the three of us, but I don't see cooperation and mutual reliance between our little pack as impossible. We all know what is at stake if we get caught, and we'll do whatever it takes to prevent that reality. I do love you Arya, and realize the peril you have put yourself in to help me. And I will do my best to return the favor."

Sansa smiled kindly and released Arya's hand.

"Now do you think this might be a suitable site to rest for the night? My feet are mottled with blisters and I am dreadfully tired."

Arya Stark

Arya simply rolled her eyes and nodded in agreement. She scanned the area and declared it sufficiently hidden to guarantee their safety. But before she allowed herself to relax she looked at the stars trying forlornly to learn the direction they were heading. Nevertheless Arya had never studied the constellations with such fervor as her elder brothers and her fatigue was making her vision cloudy.

I'll have to wait until morning; tree moss is a superior method of navigation anyway, she thought.

Arya then returned to her companions. The three remained in the same spot and permitted exhaustion to creep in, but not before Arya got one more word in.

"We are not done discussing your scream, you're like a living weapon! I almost wish I had it. "

Sansa responded with a voice thick with sleep and a little remorse. "No you don't. Arya you saw what it can do. It's terrible enough one of us has it. Now sleep. We don't know what awaits us at daybreak."

Arya's slumber was peaceful and uninterrupted for many hours. She only roused because light had seeped through the cover of the trees and penetrated the flesh of her eyelids. The world wasn't blissfully dark any longer. She blinked furiously as she heard a faint shuffling in the dirt, unsure what was causing it. The treadpatter was too deft for Sansa in a wooded area, and there was a slight swish of fir. Arya was still groggy and sat up rubbing her eyes when she looked.

The origin of the sound was Nymeria walking towards them with two rabbits slingly lifelessly from her blood stained maw. Arya only chuckled and looked at Nymeria knowingly.

"We're going to have to cook these up for Sansa to even consider eating them. I appreciate your refined tastes, but Sansa isn't so advanced. We might as well begin a small fire to warm your findings so they're a little more palatable for us picky humans. Come here girl."

Nymeria suddenly dropped her prey from her jaw and crouched down, hackles up, tail broadening and teeth bared. She let out a chilling growl and stared angrily at something over Arya's shoulder.

Arya imagined it was just her sister waking up that startled the direwolf, but when she turned to scold Sansa she found her still fast asleep. The object of Nymeria's rage was the Hound.