They didn't make it to the city.

Four hours into their journey, a clamor could be heard coming from further down the road, clearly identifiable as sword on sword to all present. They sped up slightly, but remained cautious as they approached a blind curve.

A scream suddenly pierced the air, still sounding a fair distance away. Arya nudged her mount into a canter, holding her reins with her right hand and laying her left atop Needle. She could hear the others just behind her as they rounded the bend to a scene of carnage. A small caravan had been set upon by a band of thieves and several bodies were already strewn across the snow, crimson stains growing larger by the second. A few remained alive, but likely wouldn't remain so for much longer if they didn't act quickly.

She reached instead for her dagger, gripping it surely and moving with the gait of her mount as she drew her arm back and flicked wrist, burring the small blade in the back of a mans neck who was bent over a young sobbing woman, severing his spinal cord. He fell forward limply and the woman shoved him off, movements jerky and hysterical. A child younger than three cowered nearby and she drew the small girl into her arms as soon as she'd shoved her skits back over her exposed legs.

Arya didn't pay her any further mind, a second man turning to face her gaining her focus. He had a sword in his hand but didn't managed to get it raised in time to block the slender steel before it pierced cleanly through his heart. None of the bandits were mounted and so she dropped gracefully to her feet, feeling more confident being fully in control of her movement than she did with the height advantage.

She twisted around to retrieve her knife from the fallen man, noting coldly that seemed to still be alive, if paralyzed and bleeding heavily, reddened cock still hanging out of his open pants. She opened his throat for good measure before facing the third man coming towards her. This man was larger and had time to prepare for her. He was on the offensive and his blows had plenty of strength behind them. She bowed over backwards to avoid a low sweep and then used the swing of her arm to help bring her body back around.

He'd put too much force behind his last blow, not expecting her to be able to doge it, and so his body spun slightly around as he recovered. She used his position to her advantage and sliced cleaning across the back of his knees, dropping him immediately to the ground. Another flick of her wrist open throat and she moved on. She was faintly keeping track of her companions around her but the task became all together more difficult when a surge of a dozen more men appeared from further ahead.

Still, she didn't allow herself to lose focus, keeping her eyes open and senses on alert as she moved with the flow of the unexpected skirmish. She spun clear of a blade swipe, but had to pull up short as a second man attempted to trap her from behind. The hesitation cost her and she felt a line of fire score across her upper back. She hissed quietly through her teeth and ducked, using her dagger to open the inside of the man's thigh and severing the artery she knew was there. Blood flowed immediately and he stumbled back, trying pointlessly to staunch the pouring of red liquid. He'd be dead in less than a minute she knew, and so didn't waste any more time delivering a second blow before she moved on.

She noted a wolf howl in the distance, the rest of the pack following a moment later. It sounded far enough away that she didn't pay it much attention, to focused on her next movement. Duck-parry-dodge, and so the cycle continued. Her heart was pounding with rush of adrenaline and her face twisted into grin as she moved gracefully atop splashes and puddles of red-stained snow.

A man interrupted her twist and she'd run her dagger clean up his front, disemboweling him with a horrid squelching sensation before he knew what had happened. His scream competed with an terrified horse nearby as he stumbled back with his hands shakily pressed over his gaping stomach to try and contain his spilling intestines. A flick of her wrist and a blade in his throat brought him to his knees and the splash of lifeblood added to the thick coating already covering her hands and arms.

The press of bodies slowed and tricked to a stop. Only when no others were in sight did she stop to take in the remaining scene. Dozens of bodies lay scattered across the road and the woman they'd first rescued could still be heard crying from her hunched position against one of the wagons, daughter bundled tightly in her lap. The third survivor seemed to have perished since their arrival but Arya wasn't moved. What was one life compared to so many?

She found a clean patch of snow and scooped some up to rub on hands. She repeated the process until most of the blood was gone and then dried them as best she could on the inside of her cloak. The four soldiers accompanying her were thankfully all still standing, if not a bit worse for wear, and were making their way through the carnage to check for other survivors. Assured of their continued wellbeing, she approached their sole known surviving pair and knelt beside them.

She began speaking in the same soft tone she had developed in the Sanctuary of the House of Black and White and used to sooth those who came to her for mercy before she fed them the poisoned water and led them to their deaths. "You're okay. Everything's going to be okay now. What's your name?"

"Nalia." The woman whispered in a raw voice.

"It's nice to meet you, Nalia. My name is Arya. What's your daughter's name?"

"Trysta."

"That's a pretty name."

"Yes, but she's not my daughter. When we found her, her parents had already gone with the Stranger. She'd have died if we left her there, so we brought her with us. We thought she would be safe with us."

"You did keep her safe- you're the only two left alive. Where are you coming from Nalia? Where were you going?"

"I, we, we came from Greywater Watch. We were supposed to take supplies to the north. We don't have knights to send, bu-but my Uncle wanted to support the alliance as he could. We're really the only two?" She pleaded.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Your uncle?" She led, needing more information still.

"L-Lord Howland Reed. My father is his brother."

"I see. I've heard a lot about Lord Howland. He was friends with my father. We are heading to Winterfell ourselves, though we left the rest of our troop some ways back. You could join us if you wish. We could keep you and Trysta safe for the remainder of the journey.. Unless you'd rather turn back home?"

"No," She denied, sniffling once more and then straightening her spine. "No, I don't want to turn back, I want to press on. May I accompany you? Please?"

Arya glanced at Jaime first and then the others, seeing no argument from anyone. "Of course you may. There's one thing I need do before we leave this place. Perhaps you can gather the horses?" She requested, looking at her company. Jaime shot Bronn a look, who rolled his eyes exaggeratedly but turned to stroll leisurely towards them anyway.

The blond watched him go and then turned back to her with a slight shake of his head. "We should scout ahead and then wait here for the rest of the troop. We won't be able to drive the carts along with our own horses, let alone protect them if we're ambushed. Not on our own. We need more men."

Glancing around again and taking note of the number of wagons present, she had to agree. "They had to have come from the North. I should be safe enough here. Go, I'll wait for your return."

"I'll leave the brothers with you."

"No, we already know what's behind us and you'll be in front of me. If you run into any friends, you'll have more need of their blades than I. Take them with you."

Bronn wandered back, holding their mounts by the reins bundled in one hand. "You're a demanding little cunt, aren't ya. We goin' then?"

Jaime shot him a glare first before turning it on her. "You need at least one of them."

"I don't. This isn't for others to see, anyway. Go, I'll be fine." He still hesitated and she shot him a cold glare of her own. "Go, before a second wave surprises us for your stalling."

His gaze sharpened further but he finally mounted his horse with an annoyed huff that she barely heard. The other three men followed in his wake, having been able to hear the conversation on the otherwise silent air. They spurred their mounts and broke into an easy canter immediately.

Arya didn't waste any time in moving back over to the woman who'd managed to quiet her sobs. The young girl lay silently in her arms, gazing at a bloodied corpse nearby with a vacant expression that spoke of far too much violence for one so young. "You should wait in the wagon, My Lady. Our company will be here soon and we'll move on."

Nalia didn't seem to hear her at first, looking lost in her head, but finally nodded. Arya helped her to stand and cross the bloodied snow to the wagon built more akin to a chariot than supply transport. Arya suspected it was where she had ridden before the ambush. As soon as the two were out of her sight, she jumped into action, unsure of how much time she'd get before the men returned.

She started with those lost from the caravan, dragging the bodies to a flat and clean stretch of snow to the side and clear of any nearby trees. She paused at the end of the straight and knelt beside the first body. Using a handful of snow, she quickly cleansed the young mans face so that it was free of blood ad filth, and then moved down to his neck, wrists and hands. She stripped off their boots and tossed them beside one of the wagons and cleansed his feet and ankles as well. Their weapons followed, forming a second, smaller, pile beside the first.

Finished as best she could be with what little she had, she moved onto the next body and repeated the process. She was just finishing the attackers when a noise from the wood she was facing caught her attention. She paused in her task, looking up and around the woods surrounding her as she heard another noise come more from her left.

She stood slowly, wiping her hands on her pants and then drawing her sword. She creeped forward, only to hear a noise behind her as well. She circled slowly, eyes sharp and scanning for the cause, senses prickling in warning. When they attacked, they did so all at once. Six men emerged from farther in the woods, rushing her from all directions and entrapping her between them.

She considered herself to be a fairly skilled swordsman at this point, but she knew the odds were very much against her as she moved in a circle, looking for a break in their line or a way out of the mess she found herself in. They seemed to consider her an easy target because they attacked without hesitation. One man reached her just before the others and she was able to step into his reach and duck under his swing, bringing her small sword up to pierce him through the underside of his jaw and through his skull, killing him instantly.

The others grew angrier and two more moved in tandem to attacked, the other three remaining only a step back. She parried their blows well enough but knew something needed to give or they would manage to find an opening in her guard eventually. She ducked down and grabbed her boot dagger in the same motion, gripping it in her free right hand and then letting it loose after less than a half-second pause to aim.

Despite being her less dominant hand, the blade flew true and was soon embedded in one of the men's throats. He fell back with a choked gargle and freed her to move in that direction. She could see the other three get angry and all four remaining men moving towards her. The one farthest to her right managed to get past her guard after nearly a minute of her somehow managing to hold them off. She felt another line of fire score across her stomach and curve around her hip.

Her blood felt scalding against her frozen skin, but cooled and grew tacky quickly exposed to the conditions, making her clothing stick to her oddly and tug as she moved. She was vaguely aware of the wolves howling again, closer than before, but didn't let it distract her. She managed to dispatch another, leaving her with three. She could feeling fatigue settling into her limbs, and she wasn't sure how much blood she might actually be losing between her back and stomach.

A branch snapped and she glanced over as she dodged, heart sinking as another two men cleared the foliage. Where were they all coming from? There weren't any villages close by, so they must have either been traveling through or had taken residence in the surrounding woods. She swept her leg and tripped the man closest to her. Needle pierced the man's heart a hairsbreadth later and then gutted the fifth in the next motion. The newest two had arrived and she could see yet another approaching quickly.

She couldn't keep up the pace, there was just no way. Apparently, a month onboard a ship and a further three weeks traveling by horse was a bit hard on one's stamina, she thought to herself sarcastically. She allowed her body to drop into roll and then used the momentum to pull her back to her feet a few steps away from where she'd been.

The carriage horses spooked before she saw it. In fact, her first warning was the growl that split the air less than a second before a scream pierced it. The men she was still fighting hardly had a chance to glance around before they too began to scream. She watched in shock as an entire pack of wolves descended from the forest and congregated on the Kingsroad and just inside the tree line.

The shrieking didn't last long before it too was silenced. The wolves were still surrounding her, panting clouds of white breath into the air around her. A deep growl came from directly behind her and she turned slowly to look. Her sword was still clutched in her hand, but hung limply to her side as she took in the great beast crouching before her, teeth bared.

"Nymeria?" She whispered in disbelief. "Is that really you? I'm me, it's Arya." Nymeria stopped growling and pulled her massive head back a foot. Arya sheathed her sword carefully and then reached out an almost tentative hand towards the magnificent creature most would name a monster. Nymeria eyed her for a long moment before she stretched her nose out to sniff and the offered hand.

Arya didn't really worry about Nymeria taking off her hand in truth, but still the thought remained lightly in the back of her head for her girl was clearly wild. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation when the wolf took a step closer, moving from her hand to nose lightly at her stomach. Arya could hear the huff of her breath as she took in her scent. Her large tongue came out to lap at the blood that had saturated a spot of her cloak and was beginning to drip.

The girl brought her hand slowly to rest atop Nymeria's coarse fur. When she didn't get a negative reaction, she lifted her other hand to mirror the first, so they were both resting just behind the large furry ears. She moved her fingers and scratched her the same way she had liked as a pup. Nymeria's tail twitched and then swayed back and forth in a lazy wag of enjoyment.

No longer feeling any trepidation, she dropped to her knees and buried her fingers in the thick fur of her neck. Nymeria dropped her head slightly so that they were on the same level and nosed her shoulder and the underside of her chin. "I've missed you girl." Arya whispered. "I'm so glad you're okay."

The wolves that had been surrounding them calmly enough tensed almost at once and turned their heads. She followed their gaze to see the her small Lannister guard had come into sight without warning, the snow muffling the noise of their hooves completely. Most of the pack that had settled onto their bellies or hind ends rose back to their feet and turn to face the strangers with a collective growl. Nymeria paced several steps away, crouching almost protectively between her and them.

Arya could see the looks of shock and worry on the men's faces and she pushed herself back to her own feet, feeling foolish for not already having done so, though naught more than a second or two had passed. The two brothers drew their bows and took aim, but it would do little good against such a large pack she didn't know why they bothered. "No!" She spoke, pitching her voice to carry. "Don't shoot them. Just- don't come any closer." She ordered.

They exchanged looks but she didn't pay them any further mind. Nymeria had turned her face back to her at hearing her voice, one ear pitching as she listened. "No girl." She said quieter and more soothingly. "You can't hurt them. They're my friends." Arya continued as she stepped forward to lay her hand upon the rise of the her shoulder.

She didn't know how Nymeria could possibly understand her, but it almost seemed as though she could. She turned her head back to face forward and bared her teeth in a short but fierce warning snarl. Seemingly satisfied with herself, she lifted her head and let out a loud howl that was quickly picked up by not only the wolves visibly surrounding them, but by what sounded to be an even greater number remianing unseen in the woods surrounding them all.

The haunting noise seemed to go on for an age before it trailed off and their heads lowered once more. They didn't waste any time fading back into the woods with hardly a sound, though Nymeria paused on last time to press her great head gently against her wounded stomach. "I'll be okay. Go. Be with your pack." She urged, scratching behind her ears once more in turn. Nymeria stepped back and then followed her brethren back into the trees, disappearing from sight a second later.

The others arrived by her side seconds later, looking her over before glancing around at the cleaner and neatly laid out corpses, the piles of boots and swords, and the carnage that had befallen her since their departure not long before. "What happened?" Jaime demanded, though the scene pretty well spoke for itself.

"There were more men in the woods. They surrounded me before I knew they were there and then they attacked. The wolves killed what was left of them." She explained concisely, starting to feel a bit dizzy. She realized the pain from her wounds was gone and her body more frozen than it normally did from the cold, and she wondered how much blood she'd lost.

She reached down to feel her cloak and was surprised at just how saturated the black material had become with the viscous liquid. She unfastened it and pushed it aside to view the now almost completely red shirt she wore. A gash was visible starting on the lower left side of her rib cage, crossing down under her belly button and then ending in a small curve around her right hipbone. She wasn't sure what her back looked like, but the line had felt to be at least the same size. "Oh." She murmured. "Well shite."

She swayed lightly before tensing her body and forcing herself back straight. Jaime and Bronn both reached out to steady her but it wasn't necessary and she shrugged them off. Knowing what needed to be done she moved back towards where her mount stood and retrieved her borrowed needle and left over thread she still had from her newly finished pack.

It certainly wasn't going to be a pleasant task with such a large needle but she didn't have any other options with how deep part of the gash looked through her sliced shirt. She didn't particularly want to sit in the snow and so made her way over to the seat left on the back of one of the wagons. The men trailed after her slightly, but remained several steps away as Jaime approached alone.

She peered up at him through some tendrils of hair that had escaped at some point during one of the fights and fallen in her face. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear, seemingly without thought, before taking the needle from her much smaller hands. "I don't-"

"-Need help, I know. All the same- I know how unpleasant this feels. It needn't be done by your own hand. Let me help you, it'll go faster and you won't have to focus on it as much."

She did always hate doing stitches. Sure, she'd forced herself to learn well enough to get by, but it was still one of her least favorite tasks. That she would be stitching her own flesh was even less appealing, though she suspected she might not actually feel it all that well. Probably best to get on with it before her head got any more foggy. She nodded her head and handed the thread to him as well.

Bronn approached with his wine flask. It was a strong mix and would do well enough to sterilize the needle, even if she would have preferred rum for the task. He splashed it over the threaded needle and then handed it to her for a drink. She took a generous pull and gave it back before she pulled back her cloak and lifted her shirt, exposing her smooth stomach still smeared with watery blood.

He gestured her to lean back against the supplies, which she did with a hidden grimace. He prodded at the edges of the wound, testing it's depth and seeing how much damage had been done. The pain flared past the numbness but she didn't show any of the discomfort on her face. It was nothing compared to what was coming next, she knew.

The Sellsword held the flask out again anyway and she accepted it with a grateful nod, taking a larger gulp than before. While she was drinking, the Lannister son moved away to scoop up a large ball of untouched snow and then brought it back and set it next to her. Taking a much smaller handful, he used it to cleanse the skin around the wound with care and then poured another splash of wine across her stomach to sanitize the source of concern.

"I don't understand, why not just burn it?" Samurel asked further away.

"Too deep." Arya replied shortly, unsure just then if she'd prefer the sudden intense pain of a burn, or the slow and steady jab after jab of a wide needle piercing though raw open flesh forcing it back together with course thread and then tying it off tightly. She suppressed a shudder at what was coming. It was hardly the worst she'd endured, but it didn't make her dread it any less.

"What does 'deep' have to do with anything?" his brother asked next, honestly sounding confused.

Jaime spared a moment to send them a disgruntled glare but didn't move to answer. She could have ignored them as he did, but thought it might help distract from the discomfort. "The wound'll fester under the skin and split back open eventually- no way for it to drain past seared skin. The stitches leave enough room for liquid to pass if it does start to fester. Lets it heal better."

Jaime caught her attention from where he was crouched before her. He had the needle in hand and was clearly waiting for her go-ahead to get started. She breathed deeply through her nose and nodded, keeping each inhale and exhale perfectly rhythmic and steady.

It was every bit as unpleasant as she expected it to be, but she still kept her expression even and body still. She found herself watching him work- the entirety his own attention caught on the task at hand and so he didn't catch her observations as he normally seemed to when she found herself distracted by him or something he was doing.

She wouldn't have expected his large and calloused hands to be as graceful as they were. He completed the task steadily and without waiver, the stitches placed like the beat of a drum making it as bearable for her as he could. She allowed herself a deep breath and harsh exhale after he finished tying off the end, but didn't otherwise allow herself to delay the next.

He had stood already and so she had room to push herself up and let her shirt drop for the moment. She unclasped her cloak, wanting to wash the blood out of it anyway and not wanting it to be in the way. No one spoke up until she crossed her arms and lifted her shirt up, sliding the fabric up to rest on her neck. It left the expense of her slender and lithely muscled back on display to the world.

The movement inadvertently exposed her stomach again as well, but considering she'd just had it bared while he sewed her back together in front of the same men who stood watching, she didn't see why it made any kind of difference. She kept her shirt bundled over her breasts, hiding them completely from view, so that wasn't even a concern. She still heard a slightly strangled "What are you doing?" from Jaime before she turned to show him the second wound.

He hissed through his teeth and the sight and then guided her to sit back down in a new position and lean on the supplies with her least injured side. "Why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have told you to lean back if I knew." He asked as he began prodding her again.

"It made no matter." She dismissed.

Bronn wandered back over from wherever he'd gone and whistled as he saw what they were doing. "Fucking 'ell, girl! Here, have another drink. You need it more than I do." He thrust the wine towards her again as a chunk of snow scraped against the skin of her shoulder where the wound started its descent downwards.

"I'm fine thank you." She denied, already feeling the first couple drinks more intensely than she had expected, though she figured it was likely do to her decreased blood levels.

He sent her a disbelieving stare before looking pointedly over her. "'Fine's' not quite what I would call it." He argued. "But as you will I suppose. What do I know? I'm just a lowly sellsword."

"You're an anointed knight." Jaime corrected. "That's quite a difference."

"Aye, knights don't get paid."

"You get paid."

"But do I get paid enough?"

"You're the best paid night in the Seven bloody Kingdoms. What more could you want?"

"Your brother promised me a castle and a pretty wife."

"That was my brother's promise, not mine."

"Don't you Lannisters pay off each other's debts?"

"Not really how it works."

The two kept going back and forth until her second wound was sewn and tied off. She was so grateful of their efforts in keeping her entertained and distracted because it seemed to make the second stitch job go even faster.

She pushed herself slowly back to her feet once more, testing how much balance she had. Aside from still being a bit dizzy and chilled, she felt fine. She didn't really want to pull her bloody cloak back on just then, but it was far too cold to go without any longer.

She reached for it but was stopped before she could lift it. "Here." Jaime said, offering her his own white cloak.

She looked at him, surprised at the offer. "I couldn't, really. You're a Southerner, you'll need it more than me."

He sighed loudly through his nose. "Why do you always have to be so bloody difficult? I have layers of leather and mail on, you have a wet and torn shirt and you must have lost half your blood already. Take the fucking cloak before I tie it onto you myself." He demanded firmly and clearly annoyed at her refusal to accept help without turning the offer into an argument.

Her eyes grew slightly wider at his tone before narrowing at him in warning. Still, she didn't argue, knowing he was right once again. Her previously white shirt was still bloody enough itself to be tacky so she turned her back and stripped it completely off before grabbing the cloak Jaime held out in a shocked support, his own green gaze as frozen as the arm holding it out.

Arya dropped the sodden red fabric to the ground and the wrapped the cloak over her bare shoulders as quickly as she could, pulling it tight around herself though she truly didn't feel that cold anymore. She suspected her sudden warmth was a bad sign but hoped she was simply being paranoid. Still, there was nothing to do but wait. She didn't dare drag any more bodies around for risk of tearing her new stitching, but she was glad when the two brothers finished that task for her, even if they didn't care for the bodies as they moved them.

They needed to burn them, she knew, but it needed to wait until Tywin arrived so they could look over the culprits to see if anyone might recognize who they were or where they were from. She wondered how long until he arrived and hoped it wouldn't be much longer. She steady ache settling into her bones didn't help her impatience and she was ready to get on the road if only so they could set up camp and she could sleep.

She heard Bronn start whistling a tune from across the snow and wondered vaguely how much longer it would go on before he switched to signing. She had the feeling it was going to be a long day.

To be continued