AN: Thanks for all the new "follows," fellow word-lovers! Read on!

"What are you? A witch? Or one of 'em wildlin' bitches?" His blade was pressed tight to Gendry's throat.

"Please don't hurt him," Arya begged, her voice catching in her throat. This, she thought, this is the life I recognize. So many times since she found Gendry, she'd found herself thinking, When was the last time I laughed this hard, smiled this much, was this happy? But this was it—the return to how life had been since the day they took her father. She would not be able to stop the huntsman. One more throat cut. One less good man.

Fear shot through Gendry at the look on Arya's face. In this moment, she was truly not the assassin. She was lost. "Arya!"

Hearing her own name spoken snapped her out of it. "What…what are you d…?"

"She's Arya Stark, that's what she is. Sister of the King of the North."

"Oh, aye? This bint? Where's yer wolf, girly?" he laughed, his blade giving Gendry's throat just enough space. Arya kicked his knife-hand away from her husband. Then, she delivered a kick to her husband's side, knocking his body clear of the fray. He hit the floor, grabbed a blade from a scabbard and said, "Arya!"

She flicked her eyes to him just long enough to catch the knife. Arya darted forward and slit the intruder's throat before he could even react.

"Valar morghulis," she whispered.

He dropped his knife and wrapped his hands around his throat, trying to hold in the blood that seeped through his fingers. He fell to the floor. Arya's chest heaved. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, truly radiant.

Gendry staggered to his feet holding his ribs. "Arya, are you okay?" She didn't respond. He approached cautiously. He never thought he could fear Arya, but he didn't like the combination of the dagger in her hand and her vacant, blissful countenance.

"Arya, look at me! Put down the blade and look at me! We have to decide what to do, and fast!"

She looked at Gendry, saw the horror on his face and shook off her stupor. She wiped the blood from the dagger on the man's shirt.

"We run, that's what we do!"

"And then we look like the guilty ones. We become the hunted!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"We tell the truth!"

His wife arched an incredulous eyebrow. "The truth?"

"More or less. We came back to the room. He was here to kill us out of jealously or rob us or…" he looked Arya's body up and down. "…or worse, so we had to kill him."

Ah, Arya thought, this role again. "You're right. We'll just have to make sure they believe us."

With that, she re-wet the blade with the huntsman's blood and handed the dagger to her husband. Arya began to shake and cry and let out a piercing scream. Gendry wrapped his arms around her, taking care to ensure that the blade was pointing away from her. The innkeeper—a round, balding man who looked about 60— burst in, causing her to flinch.

"He tried to…he tried to…" Sobs wracked her body.

Gendry dropped the knife and held his wife even closer, stroking her hair and making gentle shushing sounds. He turned to the innkeeper. "Do you know this man or how he came to be inside our room?"

"His name is Tobys, and he's a local gamesman. Hunting ain't been too good of late…'cept for you," he admitted. "I…I don't know how he got in here. I…I'm so sorry that happened in my establishment. She weren't…he didn't hurt her, did he?"

At that, she wailed louder, clinging to Gendry as though that was all that held her upright.

"I just want to take my wife home, but the local justice…"

"I'll take care of it," the innkeeper said.

Oh, I bet you will, Arya thought. No one wants the reputation of being an innkeeper who lets men into guests' rooms to rob, rape and murder them.

"You would be doing us a great service," Gendry said. He reached into his coin purse and handed the man a large coin that had him offering them any help he could provide to help them on their way.

AN: Review, please! Next stop, WINTERFELL!