AN: Thanks for the reviews, you guys! They're keeping my fingers flying on the keyboard!
The next morning, she awoke to her husband laughing. "What's so funny?"
"We pay for a bed—the best bed we've had access to in ages—and we sleep on some blankets on the floor!"
"Well," Arya said, sitting up and stretching, "at least we're less likely to get bedbugs."
"That's one way to look at it," he replied. "So, excellent-plan-maker, what is the plan?"
"I think you're going to like it," she said. "The innkeeper said we're 166 leagues from Winterfell. Near as I can figure, that a five-day journey by wagon. Horseback would be faster, but that's a lot more coin and would draw a lot more attention. Walking, it would be 5 weeks, at least. But the days are getting shorter, the nights colder and the snow deeper. I think we'll have to take wagons from here on out."
He smiled, then saw the look on her face. "Ah, which means no more running. No more hunting…"
"And day after day in that damn face."
He sympathized with her frustration, for he much preferred Arya's wide face and big, grey eyes to the face with the small, delicate features. "Who was she, anyway?"
"I don't know. A face I grabbed from the House of Black and White. I took one face and left another in return. I chose a pretty face. I thought it might be useful to be pretty on occasion."
"Arya, you are pretty."
She wrinkled her nose as him. "You don't have to say that. I'm fine with being plain—came to terms with it long ago. My nickname growing up was "Arya Horse-face! And it probably saved my life. Sansa was pretty, but I doubt she could have passed as 'Arry."
He decided not to waste his breath arguing with Arya. Once she had decided on something, it was nearly impossible to change her mind.
"Well, 'Arry, what is the first step in our plan?"
"First, we go to the woods together. I try to take down something that will bring us enough coin for the rest of our journey. You help me haul it back to town. Then we head north on the first wagon out. We'll stay in inns when one is available and barns or stables when there's no inn. With each new wagon ride, a new set of names."
"And when we reach Winterfell?"
"I'll be Arya again."
"And how do we explain where we've been? How you got there without anyone in the kingdom seeing you even once?"
"It won't matter," she said. "Jon will see me and Needle and he'll know! You'll like Jon, Gendry, I know you will! And Sansa…well, she's…she's very proper."
He laughed, for she said it like an insult. "They might be very different now, you know. Life changes people. Hasn't it changed you?"
"Yes. But some people are the same no matter what. I can't imagine anything changing Jon. Sansa…yes, she might be different. The minute we got to King's Landing, she changed her clothes, her hair…she's…"
"Good at camouflage?"
Arya laughed. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes."
"Sounds like you might have more in common than you realize."
She seemed to consider that, then looked at the day dawning out the window. "Let's go. It's time to hunt."
"As you wish, Lady Nymeria."
His wife growled in response.
Arya had been hoping for smaller game than the day before: a doe, some rabbits, maybe a brace of quail. But at she ran through the forest, she caught scent of something larger that the wild would not let her ignore. She clambered up a tree and saw it enter the copse and stop just below her. It was an elk, majestic and broad-horned. She tried to let it pass but could not and dropped from the tree onto the creature's back. It reared, but she held on and drew her sharpest knife through its jugular.
Her face and arms were spattered with blood. There was no hiding who had make the kill on this hunting expedition. Arya and Gendry hadn't even tried to haul it themselves. Instead, they'd returned to town where they drew a few too many eyes for Arya's liking. The couple proceeded to the Two Hawks and acquired another bucket of hot water and quickly enjoyed the last true warmth they'd experience for the foreseeable future.
After cleaning up, they alerted the merchants of their kill: men who would use the bones and antlers for knife handles, sell the meat, and tan the hide. Six strong men all worked together to load the creature onto a wagon and take it back to town. Between the various merchants, Arya and Gendry received enough coin, in her estimation, to make it to Winterfell and with quite a bit to spare.
"Good job, 'Arry!" Gendry said.
"No," Arya replied. "I shouldn't have taken it. The tanner says there hasn't been an Elk in these woods since his father was a boy."
"Ah…and with the stag yesterday…"
"Exactly. We need to leave now before I…"
"Get us killed," Gendry said, then saw her pursed lips and raised eyebrow. "No. Before you have to kill someone. Right. Then lets go. Hopefully a wagon will come along down the road."
He shivered at the thought of trudging endlessly through the snow, took her hand and they walked at a quick clip to fetch their belongings from the Inn. Before she could stop him, Gendry plowed through the door of their room and found himself in a huntsman's grasp, blade to his throat.
"What are you?" he hissed at Arya.