The stables I took shelter in were rotting and full of shit. Shit and flies and little old me; all scrambled up with a thick paste of hay and rainwater so putrid I forgot what fresh air smelt like after only minutes in the muck. I could scarcely breathe as I clawed at the dirt piles and smeared them over my body. Any and every part of skin was covered profusely, my hands rubbing it in so deep I believed if the hounds didn't catch scent of me and sound my death the infections that would follow this torture would.
I hadn't waited around to hear King Snow's great plan to lead Ramsey away from my trail. He underestimated my Lord and he would certainly underestimate the noses of those damn dogs if I gave him the chance. Instead I had dived, quite literally, out of the far window of the keep, rubbing my back against every tree and shrub that led to the nearby forest before ducking into the stables in hope of throwing the dogs off of my scent. The forest would undoubtedly lead to a stream. It would be the perfect explanation as to why they lost my trail.
I could hear the distressed shouts of the plump Innkeeper, her voice both shrill and demanding explanation as Ramsey's men began to ransack the place. It were only when another man's voice boomed out across the grounds that the clattering outside of the stables went quiet. It seems the King in the North could defend his people even without a small army at the ready.
I dragged my body behind the bale of hay, pulling it all over me and peeking through the smallest crack in the splintering wood to get a view of what was to come next. I was limited to ground vision, but it was enough to paint a picture of how close my demise was coming.
Men's boots and dogs paws all tore up the dirt surrounding the Keep, some pacing closer to the stables than others. Ramsey would not leave a stone unturned, these stables would be searched; all I could do was hope they sent a dog in first to save themselves breathing in the fumes.
"A mad goose chase further North over the sake of some whore. Should of killed 'er long ago anyway. She ain't even the best looking out of his pickin's." Guards began talking amongst themselves within earshot.
"Oh, 'e ain't here to kill her. That man never kills when he's this angry. She'll end up like that sniveling wreck 'e used to drag 'round with him."
"That cockless fellow?"
"'Aye, that's him. Pathetic excuse of a man that was."
I had watched Ramsey take the man that once was Theon Greyjoy and turn him into nothing more than a shell of a person, tortured and traumatized over many months until the poor man could barely speak a word without crying. I would sooner slit my own throat before allowing Ramsey to subject me to those conditions.
It seemed the guards were not invested in the hunt they had been dragged on, only chattering and lighting cigarettes between themselves; so lost in their own conversation they did not appear to notice their Lord arrive behind them. I did not need to see his face to know it was Ramsey that swept across the grounds towards his men, his best bloodhound at his side - if I had not been eye level with his boots more times than this then what sort of slave would I have been? I strained my neck and caught a glimpse of a fine blade being unsheathed from his side as he honed in on the lazy men standing idly near my hideout. I knew how to recognize the sound of a man choking on his own blood. It seems Ramsey would kill when he was this angry. Even if it wasn't me.
First the man's knees came into view as he slumped forward, then two hands as he crumpled in on himself and slid into the dirt with his mouth wide open and dripping with his own saliva and blood. I held my breath as the body collapsed to the ground, dead eyes staring into the tiny crack in the wood to meet my own.
"Jon Snow seems to think we have upset our dearest Landlady. All of you will go in to apologize to the fat oath and help realign her tables." Ramsey's voice was cut throat. The guards moved without hesitation.
The grounds were empty all except for him and his hound. I could hear him breathing deep, sucking in the air and no doubt surveying the surroundings for my most likely escape route.
A whistle sounded from between his teeth and the pack of 40 strong dogs hailed down on the area in a frenzy to please their master. I held my breath and pressed back into the stables.
"Sic 'em."
The hounds had been released. Howls were let off immediately and tied my stomach into sickening knots as they bolted in every direction to follow my scent. From the door of the keep to the edge of the woods to the stables where wet, black noses poked around the entrance in hopes of finding something larger than a rat. Ramsey moved amongst them slowly, side stepping in an attempt to quieten his heavy boots. He searched every corner of those grounds, seemingly avoiding the stables on purpose. I hoped that the Lord was not toying with me. If he knew I was here it was a matter of seconds before the game reached an end. It seemed that the smell of the stables really had thrown off the dogs, as not one entered and followed it around to my sordid little corner to drag me out by my limbs. It was only a matter of time. I could hear boots crunching frost bitten leaves and the way the wind stopped blowing around the stables as a figure shadowed the doorframe.
"Clever girl."
In that moment the blood in my body ran as cold as the Winter that was to come. My knees tucked tight to my chest and I curled up as small as I could; wishing with everything I had left that I would burst into flames here and now before Ramsey was upon me.
"I didn't think you'd ever up and leave you know, little Ghost." The lord was practically purring now, slinking around each corner with catlike grace as circled the stalls; searching.
"I thought you would lay down and die with much more dignity than sending me on a hunt only to find you covered in shit and squealing like a pig before a butcher. I don't mind though. I've learnt from my mistakes..." I pressed both hands over my ears as his voice grew louder, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to block him out.
"Out." One word. A sob caught in the back of my throat. I shook my head and threw my weight back at the wall behind me, eyes still tightly shut. "I hope you had a nice time outside of the walls, little Ghost. If it means anything, I had hoped you would have lasted longer than a night. I love a good chase." Voice soft as silk - toying with me like the cat who caught the mouse. "However," it became cut throat, biting into me as it rang around the dark, dank little stall. "I own you. I decide when your awful little existence comes to an end and I won't have bitches like yourself making a mockery of me!" I swallowed the bile as it rose from my gut and filled my mouth, I steadied my breathing as it hitched in my throat and I did not let a single tear fall down my cheeks as he raged closer to drag my now limp body from the stables.
Terror is cold, it washes over you and leaves you lifeless under its hold and I could not fight it. I had never been able to fight him.
"Do you intend to inspire the others to attempt to leave my town and outrun the hounds, huh?! Do you want them to join your pitiful cause and run with you back to their bleak, agonizing lives on the outside, you fucking gutter rat?!" He was seething now, red hot anger bubbling up from under his skin and animating him into a living nightmare. I could hardly breath. A vice like grip tightened my arms to my sides and I was forced to face him, my eyes fixating on his burning rage.
I was dropped to the ground and crumpled there lifelessly, covered in horse shit, snow, weeks worth of wounds and too frightened to call for help from my newfound saviours. I stared into the window at Jon Snow and his men, all of whom were making rather dramatic gestures and clearly arguing amongst themselves. I wondered if one of them had sold me out before we departed from Winterfell. Ramsey was a powerful man, after all.
"This time, I will watch my dogs rip your head from your shoulders and collect your bones to keep in my bedside table."
A whistle sounded. I waited for the dogs to come. They never did.
A shadow blocked out the sun above me and I wondered if the darkness that had swallowed up my body was the beginning of the end. Instead the shadow was accompanied by a low, long growl unlike any dog under Ramsey's command. My eyes snapped open, forced to face reality once more. The direwolf had been silent in it's approach, yet here it stood. Towering above my body and lowering itself as a bitch would shield her pup. In it's jowls hung the lifeless body of Ramsey's best bloodhound, it's head near ripped from it's shoulders and still dripping blood before it's Master. It stared at Ramsey with a fire in it's eyes and I watched him get to his knees before the beast and stare right back. The man was not afraid, not even angry that it had stolen the life of his best mongrel.
"It seems you've upset the wildlife as well as the locals, Lord Bolton." Jon Snow marched out to the scene and stared down at me briefly, that same sadness touching his gaze before turning to clay once more as he turned to face Ramsey. "And it would seem the girl is alive as you said. Unfortunately, my wolf seems to have gotten to her first. You said you intended to kill her anyway, no? What use is she to you now?"
Ramsey smiled up at Jon, both arms raised in the air as he stayed submitted in front of the Direwolf who had not moved an inch since Jon's arrival. "I intended to use her bones to pick my teeth with." He mocked, a toothy grin sprawled across his face. It was met with a sharper growl from the wolf - who now bared each and every one of it's teeth right back at him, it's snout pushed back into an angry snarl.
"You're disgusting." Jon spat.
"Whether you think me cruel or kind - that girl was mine to kill."
"Perhaps you'd like to tell that to Ghost and see if she'll give her back, my Lord?"
Ramsey glowered at him and spat at the floor before his feet, turning back to face the wolf with a controlled sigh.
"Perhaps I'll return for my bodycount when the wolf has grown bored of it's new toy. If you'd be so gracious as to call off the animal so I can return to my horse, King Snow."
"Of course. If you would be so kind as to take your men and mutts with you on your journey home."
"Of course." Echoed Ramsey, his voice growing tighter by the second. The game no longer entertained him; he had lost, after all.
"It's settled then." Jon whistled and the Wolf finally stopped baring those dagger like teeth, smacking it's jowls shut and pressing closer to my body in the snow. Did the animal think I was hidden beneath the great bulk of fur and muscle as she crouched over me?
Ramsey stood slowly, eyes never leaving the animal as he spoke to me.
"Jon Snow is a busy man, little Ghost. Remember that when he is away to fight his wars with that creature by his side you will be alone in this world again - without a wolf to watch over you when I come for you again. Don't doubt that I will." With that he wiped the snow and dirt from his riding gear and left me there in the dirt to swallow those words over and over again until they had been fully digested.
The wolf above me was radiating heat beneath that glistening fur coat and I reached out, first stroking the hairs down tentatively before tangling my fingers in the white mass and pressing my face into the soft spot of it's neck. I think it knew that I was saying thank you. And if it didn't it accepted the small figure that hung from it's neck and did nothing to fight against the affection - the great beast stayed wrapped up there in the snow with me until I felt safe enough to really breathe again. Even if it came in ragged sobs that reminded me that the tears had begun to fall.
"Can you walk?" Gentle as ever, the King in the North crouched in the snow beside me, rubbing a spot between the wolf's ears as he spoke. I looked at him and tried to find the words to speak again, but the fear that had choked me earlier was not yet ready to let go of my voice and so I merely nodded instead, letting the tears fall freely even under the watchful gaze of Jon Snow."I'd offer to carry you, but I think you've got a bit of horse shit on your face."
We both laughed then, it was not joyful and it did not chase away the sadness, but for a moment the laughter made it easier and I found the words to speak.
"Thank you, Jon Snow."