The North

"Where are the horses?" Robb asks, though Theon and the warg both ignore him.

"Nice sabatons," Theon compliments her. The warg is wearing the boots Mikken made, though styled in that strange design of her wooden sandals. The metal wedge digs into the snow and Robb can't help but think how it'll be a hindrance in walking. But even with them on, the tips of her ears doesn't break Robb's height.

"Thank you. Now, is this enough supplies?" she raises the bag Theon packed for her. It's mostly just spare clothes and a few food and drinks.

"It'll be enough. I'm sure the other Lords would be glad to have the Lord of Winterfell for the night. How about the maps?"

"The greyrat came out of the floorboards to give me some useful things, including the descriptions of the castles."

"Seriously, where are the horses?"

"First is Dreadfort, I think? You know where that is, Lady Momiji?" Theon asks.

The warg points somewhere to the East of Winterfell. "That direction. I can see it."

"Sure you can," Theon chuckles. "Now, just be careful abo-" Theon is cut off by a snowball to the face. He wipes the snow away from his hair and looks at Robb. "What was that for!?"

"Where are the damn horses!?"

"No horses, my Lord," Ser Rodrik approaches the three. Robb can see a few servants and guards watching them from the East Gate, bidding him farewell. Bran and Hodor is also there, waving at him with Grey Wind and Summer in attendance. He can hear them shout goodbyes and farewells.

"What? You expect us to walk to Dreadfort? I thought it'd be a quicker trip with her."

"We're not walking either, wolfcub. Come and hold my hand."

Robb looks at her sharp gauntlets then back up at her. "Pardon?"

"Hold my hand," she beckons. "And if you're feeling scared, just hold on to me, wolfcub."

"Lady Momiji, I think this is hardly an appropriate time for-"

"Oh, just get on with it, Lord Stark! Shy with a little handholding with a nice woman like her?" Theon says. Ser Rodrik snickers along with him. "Just do as she says and you'll be fine."

Hesitantly, he reaches out and holds onto her left hand. He feels a bit warm, though not from the metal gauntlets. I'm being made a fool of, aren't I? Shouldn't have accepted that second request, it would've been an easy one to refuse. "How is this going to help us travel exactly?"

"Farewell Robb! See you in a few days!"

"Wha- We're not leaving yet, there are no-"

The woman's grip on his hand tightens as she swings her large sword with the other hand. Letting out a melodious howl, the wind whips around the two, sending snow into the air. And before he can ask what's happening, the two are swallowed up by a whirlwind and soar into the air.

Robb screams, clinging for his life to the warg's hip. The wind and air roar loudly around them, as if he's in the middle of a storm. Still closing his eyes, he tries to move his arm and nearly slips from her hold. "I told you to hold my hand, wolfcub!"

"I'm sorry Lady Momiji I'm sorry!"

"And stop screaming or I'll drop you!"

Shutting his mouth, he dares to open his eyes and look down at the ground. The ground and trees whizz past below them. Robb closes his eyes again, not believing what he's seeing. But his feet are dangling in the air and the cold wind form frosts on his hair and face. All of this is far too real for him. Robb's body starts to shake from fear rather than cold, and his head is feeling quite faint.

"We're here."

"Wha-"

Lady Momiji drops him, and for a moment he thinks he'll be dashed along the rocks. But he falls face-first into the snow, some going into his nose and mouth. Still trembling like a newborn calf, he slowly raises his body before vomiting up his breakfast, chunks of sausages and potatoes. "Ugh..." Robb wipes the sick from his lips, staining his grey coat. "By the Old Gods..."

"First time flying?" she asks, helping him get back on his feet.

"There's going to be more of this..."

"You'll get used to it, wolfcub," she smiles, somewhat softer than she usually is. "Everyone's overly excited for their first flight, especially human kids."

"Well I'm-" he burps, holding in the sick. "I'm not a kid, Lady Momiji. I'm already a Lord."

"Keep on calling yourself that, wolfcub."

"Just... I don't want to be dropped next time."

Cleaning his face with some snow, he looks up and sees the surrounding lands. Winterfell is nowhere in sight and the forest is unfamiliar to him. So we really did travel far... And that castle over there. On top of a small hill, the black castle Dreadfort stands grandly over the land. The sharp walls and towers reminds him of a wolf's jaw. Just looking at it sends a chill down his spine.

Old Nan always told us stories of the old Boltons. Do they still hang our skins in their chambers?

The castle gates open and a group of riders come to greet them. Or kill them, depending on how amicable those soldiers are. Lady Momiji is already with her sword and shield while Robb has a hand on his dagger, hidden behind his grey cloak. A knight comes out of the group, his horse decorated with the pink of the flayed man. "Hold it! Who goes there?"

"I'm Robb Stark, Ser. Lord of Winterfell." Robb tries his best to appear like his father, but his coats is far too large for him to feel comfortable in.

"Lord Stark? Dreadfort is a long ways away from Winterfell, so what brings you here?" The knight looks over to Momiji, his horse neighing as she readies her shield and sword. The riders whisper and gawk at her while the knight looks far more than just displeased. "Is that a warg, Lord Stark?"

"I'm no warg, pinkman," Lady Momiji growls at him.

"She is my retainer and ally, so treat her with the same respect you hold me, Ser. I'm here to speak with Lord Roose Bolton regarding urgent matters, though it must be done out here as I'm planning to leave soon."

The knight watches the two cautiously before nodding his head. "We'll inform our Lord of your arrival. And keep her on a leash, boy," the knight smirks before riding back to Dreadfort.

"...What a friendly bunch."

"Boltons and Starks have... An interesting history, Lady Momiji," Robb sighs, kicking the sick under some snow. "Frankly, I'm glad I still have the skin on my back, though I doubt they still do that horrid practice."

"Wargs and whatnot, have they not seen a tengu like me? What of fairies?"

"Sorry, but you're simply strange for most, Lady Momiji. Even me." Taking a deep breath, Robb goes to straighten out his wind-blown clothes. His hair is all tussled up and there's even a tear across his direwolf-emblazoned cloak. That'll be more work for the servants, he sighs. "May I ask, do I look like a-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"That cloak and colours are still too big for you, wolfcub. You've yet to grow into the title of wolflord. Have patience."

It's still early in the day, the sun barely risen in the sky. When Dreadfort's gates open again, a procession of banners follow them out. The flayed man flies in the wind as a pink-cloaked man lead the group. Though Robb never met him, he can recognise that the man is Lord Roose Bolton. Still astride his horse, the Lord bows his head to Robb, showing a faint smile. "Lord Stark. And what do I owe the pleasure for your arrival to my abode?"

"A sordid matter, Lord Roose. The Kingslayer have laid his hands on my mother and took her for ransom. He demands that the North are not to interfere with the Lannister campaign in the Riverlands."

Lord Roose frowns as the men behind him goes to another wave of whispers and insults. "And so you've come to call my banners... Though I'll do so in quick haste, why have you not sent a raven? Then I could have marched to Winterfell myself."

"We have no ravens for Dreadfort, Lord Roose."

"I see... We have problems with our ravens as well, so I sympathise. Worry not, Lord Stark; we shall march by morn tomorrow and see that Lady Catelyn is returned safely to Winterfell. However," he smiles, "will you not come along with me? Starks are always welcome at Dreadfort."

"I don't want to disturb your time Lord Roose. Lady Momiji and I are prepared to leave." And I'd rather not find out if Old Nan's stories are true. "Lady Momiji?"

"This time, hold onto my hand correctly, wolfcub."

Robb steels himself for what will come next; it won't do him any good if he were to disturb Lady Momiji's focus. Taking deep breaths, he tries to calm his heart as he grabs her hand. He looks to the Bolton men and see them gawking and watching with interest. "So," Lord Roose says with a hint of amusement, "you've taken an interest in wargs, my Lord?"

"Wait what? No, you misunderstand. She's a sorce-"

The howling wind cuts them off as the two take into the air again. Though Robb screams in surprise, he keeps it to a minimum and opens his eyes. Shaking from the sheer height they're in, he manages to stay composed and see all the vistas around him.

Dreadfort looks as small as a chest in the distance, and the Bolton men are rushing about like ants trying to protect their Lord. But what enamours Robb most is the white and grey land beyond. Flying as high as a bird, the great Northern expanse is before them. All of that under his father's rule. And mine in the future as well...

This flight, this floating and soaring... It's not what he expects. When he imagines man taking flight into the skies, images of birds and dragons and flapping wings come to mind. But this is strange. Though he's still tense from it all, he can feel himself... Floating? He's not sure, but his body isn't exactly dragged down like before. Instead, a soft breeze seems to keep his leg afloat, near parallel to Lady Momiji.

But even this far into the sky, he sees the trail of snow and dirt their flight leaves behind. Like a whirlwind, whipping up the land, yet far faster than any horse or bird. A cold wind still blows against his face, yet none are touching the warg. "H-How are you doing this?"

"I'm the wind, wolfcub. Tengus are born from the gale and storm. This is of no effort for me."

"Can I learn it?"

"Hah! You're having a hard enough time holding a shield and sword, wolfcub."

"I-I see..." Turning back, he sees her tail aloft, a soft breeze rippling its fur. Robb has a free hand. He could reach and pet it, but he knows better than to do so. He'll probably get dashed on the rocks below. But for the life of him, that white tail looks damn soft and fluffy, probably even more than Grey Wind's or Summer's. There's no harm in just asking, right? Right?

"Um, Lady Momiji?"

"Hm?"

"May... May I touch your tail?"

They come to an abrupt stop and his body nearly dangles from her hand, the floating breeze dissipating from around him. She looks down on him, eyes sharp but with a look of... Confusion? Anger? Robb's not sure, but she doesn't look happy. "You want to touch my tail."

"I-I'm sorry for asking that, Lady Momiji! I didn't mean to cause harm!"

The two stay still in the air, and Robb wonders if she'll let him go and fall on the ground. Instead, she lets out a long sigh before shaking her head. "I am no dog to be petted, wolfcub. Unlike that mutt of yours, I have pride as a white wolf tengu. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sorry for asking such a foolish question."

"...Good. Glad to see you have more control than inkboy."

That was a compliment, maybe?

"Besides," she smirks as the wind returns, "we're on an important mission for your mother, wolfcub. Refrain those foul thoughts until we finish this mission at the very least."

As they head for the next castle, Robb inwardly beats himself for even bringing up the question. Damn it Robb! You're a Stark, Lord Stark! Haven't you learnt anything from Septa Mordane's lessons on manners and courtesy!? But before he could foul his mood even further, he sees a twin keep standing beyond a field of trees, their towers abreast on multiple hills.

Descending to the courtyard, her whirlwind blows off several tree branches and banners of white sunburst, sending stable boys and servants screaming and cowering. Robb lands with shaky feet, thankful that he manages to keep his nausea in check, but still needing to hold onto the warg for support. Her metal wedges click on the cobblestone floor.

Quickly, guards and men-at-arms surround the two with spears and crossbows at the ready. A gaunt man with a bastard sword comes forth to confront them. But upon seeing Robb, his face turns from anger to confusion. "Young wolf? What!? How in the hells did you come here?"

"Sorcery, Lord Rickard," Robb catches his breath. "I'm here for an urgent matter. It is about my mother."

"What sort of matter does Lady Catelyn see as an emergency? Your mother-"

"-has been kidnapped by the Lannisters, Lord Rickard. We must make haste to march South and support the Iron Throne, lest my mother shall receive the brunt of it."

Lord Rickard is stunned by Robb's declaration of war, but soon bows his head to him. "Forgive me for my earlier impudence, Lord Stark. I did not notice the direness of the situation. I'll see that my men arrive at Winterfell."

"No offense is taken, Lord Rickard. But may I ask, can you send a raven to Winterfell informing of your arrival? We need to make preparations."

"Ravens?" Lord Rickard frowns. "I'm sorry but an accident caused all our ravens to escape. Once we find replacements we'll be sure to swend you a message."

"Is that so... Alright then, farewell. I'll be seeing your men at Winterfell. May the Old Gods bless us all." And with that, Robb grabs Lady Momiji's hand and the two ascend high into the sky. Unlike before, he manages to stay silent as they speed off towards their next destination. But his mind is preoccupied by disturbing thoughts.

Ravens. Winterfell, Cerwyn, Dreadfort, and now Karhold... Something is amiss, and it does not look like a coincidence either. "Lady Momiji, what do you know of ravens?"

"Ravens?" She ponders the question for a moment. "I can't tell you much of those birds, but I know some things about crows."

"Close enough," Robb replies.

"Crafty bunch, they are. Not one to fight head one, far too boring for their liking. No, they prefer to trick and commit malicious pranks on those they come across. Annoying."

"Are we still talking about birds?"

"Ravens, crows, Crow Tengu, all the same in my eyes," she growls. "No animal likes to be held in cages, wolfcub. Maybe they planned an escape all along."

Birds planning an escape, now that's something Maester Luwin will scoff at. Then again, I am currently flying in the winds like a bird, so maybe it's not so far-fetched. Didn't Old Nan told us stories of ravens speaking?

The sun hangs high in the sky, but the clouds lessen its intensity. Though they're simply holding hands, his arm is slowly getting cramped and tired. "Where are we heading now?"

"Some place called the Last Hearth. The thing doesn't even look like a hearth."

"House Umber... Saw one of them when I was a kid. He could threw me like a ball over Winterfell walls."

Lady Momiji chuckles. "That'd be a sight to see."

"Please don't put suggestions into their head."

"Though it is strange," she continues. "The greyrat told me to avoid some island called Skagos. Aren't they under the Northern fold?"

"Skagos. They're no men but savages, Lady Momiji. They partake in great taboos, like the eating of... The eating of one's flesh," Robb shivers. "Cannibals. Until you corrected me, I thought you came from there."

"I'm no man, wolfcub. And so strange that you claim to fear man-eaters yet you're holding hands with one."

"That's because I know you won't eat me," he hopes. "Only fools dare venture to Skagos."

"Fools often have the best marrows," Lady Momiji licks her lips.

After that uncomfortable exchange, the two continue their unnatural flight in silence, passing over snowy plains and forests. For as large as the North is, it's sparsely populated for the effects of winter drive people either South or towards their Lord's castles. Robb spots a small flock of black birds flying South, and he wonders if any of them could be the ravens from Winterfell.

We're at a good pace, Robb thinks. If we continue this we may finish all the Northern houses in two days, or one if we don't take rest. But I'm not sure of that one; it'd be bad to disturb the Lords from their sleep.

Nearing their destination, Robb rubs his hand to his side for warmth. When it's this far North, so close to the Wall, the air always stays crisp and cold even during the longest of summers. And when winter comes... Thank the Old Gods that Winterfell has springs, though I guess many are not so lucky. Actually, I do wonder how Jon is faring in this cold. I've not sent a raven up there yet.

The whirlwind blowing away the snow from the Last Hearth's steps, Robb lands with steady feet in front of a gathering crowd. At their head is an Umber: a man as tall as Hodor wearing an eyepatch. Statues of wolves and boars watch them all. "Are you the Stark lordling?" asks the Umber, his voice deep and growling. "Why have you come here? And with a wildling warg as well?"

"I'm Robb Stark, yes. My retainer here is Lady Momiji Inubashiri, neither a warg or wildling, Ser. I'm here to speak with Lord Greatjon Umber regarding important matters."

The man glares at Lady Momiji with one good eye before returning a smile to Robb. "Aye, that ain't look like any wildling I've seen. But I'm sorry to disappoint, Lord Stark. The Greatjon left with Smalljon to hunt some deer and bucks. He'll be back by sundown, but that's what he says. He's never back by sundown."

Sundown? It'll be far too late then. "Where did he head off?"

"Over yonder," the Umber points towards the direction of the comet's tail. "Said he'll be near the Last River, but that man always wanders off. Good luck finding him," he chuckles.

"What does he look like?" Lady Momiji asks whilst staring into the distance. Robb notices the twinkle in her red eyes, similar to when Grey Wind is trying to spot some small game.

"The Greatjon? Large beard and was wearing the cloak with our emblem on it when he left. You trying to find him?"

"Already did. Come, wolfcub."

"Already?" But as he walks back to her, the Umber calls him back.

"I need to speak to you, lordling. Especially regarding that... Woman you brought along," he speaks in a low whisper. "I don't know what manner of beast or sorcery she is, but you best be careful now. A warg or wildling like her, they're savages. You may not know them but us Umbers are well acquainted with their kind. Same with most of us in the North."

"Do I need to remind you Ser that she is NOT a wildling nor a warg. Now excuse me, I would like to leave for Lord Umber now."

Robb leaves the scowling one-eyed Umber and takes flight with Lady Momiji, their whirlwind heading deeper into the woods. Robb wonders if the Greatjon and Smalljon will have a similar reaction to Lady Momiji; that's the one thing he hadn't actually considered. The North don't take kindly to things like that, and he might have a hard time convin-

"Duck."

"Shi-" a branch full of snow and leaves slams into him, leaving his face caked white. Lady Momiji chuckles at him, telling him to keep his eyes open. Robb groans as he wipes them away, seeing that they're slowly approaching the tall Umbers. The large men turn to them as the whirlwind approaches them.

Robb and Lady Momiji lands on the forest floor, her sabatons sinking deep into the snow. Robb wants to giggle but keeps himself composed. Somewhat. The Greatjon looks at them wide-eyed, his snowshoes nearly stumbling as he moves back from the two. "Jon, I might have a bit too much to drink. I'm seeing some bloody strange things."

"Aye," the Smalljon replies, corking his wineskin and righting his boar-spear. "I might be as well. Damn spiced wines, one drink too many."

"We're no visions, Lord Greatjon. I'm as real as the snow under your feet."

"You sure of that?" the large man approaches Robb carefully. To him, the Greatjon looks nearly as tall as a giant, especially with his hairy face. The man pokes Robb's chest, nearly causing him to fall over. "Heh, what do you know. You're real. Do I know you? You're wearing the colours of the Starks."

"That is because I am one, Lord Greatjon. I'm Robb Stark, the current Lord of Winterfell with my father's absence. I need to inform you that-"

"Hah! You're the little wolf from the Stark's brood!" The Greatjon slips his hand to Robb's armpits, lifting him up in the air in both shock and embarrassments. "Look at you! Last I saw you, you weren't even reaching my hip. How goes Winterfell, little wolf?"

"Put me down!"

"Sure." The Greatjon drops him into the snow, about as graceful as Lady Momiji's. "But you're still so young... Lord Stark, is it now? I still can't believe it, right Jon?"

"Such a small boy, father," the Smalljon laughs, ruffling Robb's hair. He slaps him away, now quite pissed from his treatment. Even Lady Momiji is laughing at him, and that's really the worst of it.

"I have no patience for jests, Greatjon."

"Oh, but I'm not jesting, little Robb," the Greatjon chuckles. "And what's with her get-up? Wanted her to play your little wolf games? Such strange interests to have."

"Aye, look at the bloody thing, father! She's wagging her tail like some damn bitch!" the Smalljjon laughs.

Lady Momiji snarls and draws her shield and sword. Robb tries to calm her but to no avail; no amount of arm tugging can soften her tensed muscles. "Say that again," she growls with bared teeth, "and I'll make you bleed."

"Damn, her ears even twitches. Looks so fluffy too," the Greatjon comments, reaching his hand out to her head.

And with a swing, his hand is now in the snow, blood speckled around the ground. The Umbers stare in shock as Robb goes slack-jawed, dumbfounded by the warg's action.

Lady Momiji, who's tasked by him to call the Northern banners, had just lopped off the hand of one of said lords, Greatjon of House Umber. And now his son is up in arms as the larger man falls to the ground, bellowing like some great beast clutching at his stump. It's all falling apart for him. He shouldn't have done this; what was he thinking hiring some unknown to do an important job!? She's not even in his service.

Nothing. Nothing in his life prepared him for this. And so when the Smalljon thrusts his spear at him, he freezes in shock as the warg pushes him back with her blade to avoid the blow. His ass in the snow, everything starts to run again through his mind. The cut. The hand. The shouts. The spear. All of it.

Clutching snow in his hands, he throws snowballs at the two battling warriors, now wildly mad at the warg's actions. "Both of you, stop this instant!" he shouts, yet none pay him any heed. Not even when the snow hits their faces.

"You have some nerves hurting an Umber!" The Smalljon thrusts his spear, only for it to be blocked by her shield. Another swing of her sword cuts it in two, but now the Smalljon grab both ends and continue attacking. The warg is at the defensive, but Robb knows that she can kill him at any moment. Any moment.

Shit, what should I do? What should I do!? The hells the fucking hells! Robb quickly stands and rushes over to the downed Umber, trying to get the injured man up. But instead, the Greatjon pushes him over and towers over them all, his face wrought in fury. "ALL OF YOU STOP THIS INSTANT!"

Robb's ears nearly bursts from the roar and all stops their movement. The Greatjon strides forward, bandaging his stump and picking up his hand, nearly larger than Robb's own head. "L-Lord Umber," Robb stands and bows his head. "I am- It was not my intention to-"

"What?" he cuts Robb off. "To cut my hand? To interrupt my hunt and cut off my hand? Is that it? Far too late for that, little Robb. Far too late," the Greatjon lowers his tone. "This is my sword hand. My maester won't be able to reattach it and all you can offer is a sorry?"

"You have not listened to the wolfcub's reasons, giant," Lady Momiji speaks, flicking the blood off her blade. "If you kept your ears open, then I wouldn't have to cut off your hand."

"Shut it, warg!" the Smalljon threatens. "You're the one who injured my father!"

"And I was not speaking to you," the Greatjon adds. He leans down, coming face-to-face with Robb's terrified expression. The large man's breath smells of garlic and booze. "But I did listen, little Stark. What do you want to tell me, so much so that you're willing to cripple me? It better be worth it," he growls.

Robb imagines that man's hand, so large and powerful it could probably crush his head like a peach. He darts his eyes around, looking for what to say before locking eyes with Lady Momiji. That smile of hers, that damn smirk. It returns the anger in him. "What you have interrupted me, Greatjon, is my telling of my mother's kidnapping by the Lannisters."

"Lannisters?"

"Yes, in the Riverlands. I'm calling you as my bannermen to gather at Winterfell for a march South. If you had simply listened, then you would still have your hand!" Robb snarls, surprising himself with his anger.

The Greatjon looks over at him then at Lady Momiji before standing back up, scratching his beard. "You're showing some teeth there, Lord Stark. Heh, more than I expected from someone like you. Jon!"

"Yes father!"

"Let us return. If we're to march to Winterfell, we need to prepare things today."

"We're letting them off?" the Smalljon asks, somewhat confused. "Your hand, father!"

"It's useless now," he throws it to Lady Momiji. She catches the thing with her shield. "Keep it. Let it be we create a new relationship, Lady Warg. One that does not incur the wrath of the other."

"I'm no warg, giant."

"Aye, but you're certainly a strange one," he chuckles. "Well, good Lady, I hope to see your swordplay in a battle one day. But now we must head off. See you at Winterfell, Lord Stark. We'll be sure to return your mother safely."

The two Umbers trudge off into the forest, heading back to the direction of the Last Hearth. After hearing no more of their footsteps, Robb falls back into the snow, the wetness seeping into his cloak. Looking at the clouds passing overhead, he lets out a nervous laughter before covering his face and groaning all of his worries away.

Grabbing a handful of snow, he balls it up and throws it angrily at Lady Momiji, who blocks it with her shield. He throws more of them to no avail. "What was that for?" she asks, wiping away the mud and snow.

"The hells did you do that for!? He's a Northern Lord, you idiot! We need his forces!"

"Everything worked out, wolfcub. No need to shout."

"Worked out? Worked out!? Hand! You're still holding his damn hand!"

"Oh this?" she waves the cut hand at him, blood still dripping into the snow. "Quite a large hand. Smells fresh and clean as well; should taste quite good cooked."

"No but- That's- Why!? Why cut off the damned Lord Umber's hand!?"

Looking annoyed, she walks to him, her wedges trudging through the snow. "When those two trampled on your name and title, you did not stop them. Not a bark nor a bite. All I did was show you how a proper wolf should act, wolfcub. And up until that little threat by the larger giant, your barks were not even that good. You should thank me for teaching you proper."

Robb is left speechless at her very dumb reasoning. The reasoning for all of this mess and injuring the Lord Umber of the Last Hearth. She dares to even call it a lesson. A lesson for whom exactly? "I'm... You know what? I'm tired. Let's take a detour and rest somewhere."

"Rest? This is only the third-"

"As I am Lord of Winterfell, the one who entrusted you with this mission, am I not able to request for changes? Or is that simply too much for someone like you?"

Lady Momiji looks at him questioningly before smiling. "Hah, guess that giant managed to put something in you."

"Put what?"

"You'll see for yourself. Now," she drags him back up to his feet, "where are we going?"