Yesboss21: You're asking great questions—I hope that all will be answered in due time. As for the warg aspect, that is part of JRR Martin's character. I just wanted to catch up my Jon's story to where the books left him. I have a sneaking suspicion that eventually he will get there in the TV series.

NatalieLynn and C: Thank you! I hope you continue to like it.

Shinigami Merchant: I hope it continues to be somewhat interesting. But that first chapter is my baby. I really like how it turned out. So thanks! Also, I like the name—who doesn't love a little death?

Thank you for reviewing and following! I'm glad that y'all like it—even if the chapters tend to be on the shorter side (: I started this with the idea that the first chapter would be my last. Now I'm posting chapter seven. It's bananas.

One more A/N: I made terribly small changes to the last chapter—I was not entirely happy with what I had originally posted. If you ever have any constructive criticism regarding my writing style, I'd be happy to read it. That's part of the terrible joy of sharing one's work, right? Getting better? Okay, after the longest introduction ever…we now return to our regularly scheduled program.

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Chapter 7: Roads Till I Reach You

Sansa Stark had jumped from the walls of Winterfell hand-in-hand with Theon Greyjoy, at the peril of death she decided she could not live under the Bolton banner for another day.

Everything was dark and white at the same time. Nothing made sense—and, then, everything did. There was muffled yelling somewhere. She was surrounded by snow so deep she did not know which direction faced the heavens and which would take her to the seven hells. She moved each finger and each toe deliberately; it hurt, but she could do it. If it did not hurt so much, she would have laughed. She tried—but all that escaped her lips was a shaky moan.

Each inhale hurt, reminding her that she was, indeed, very alive. I am alive. It became a personal mantra she thought with every breath. Next to her, she could hear Theon beginning to move, too. They both had survived. Now, Sansa and Theon had to get as far away as they could from the Boltons. There was no love in Winterfell anymore; but one day soon there would be.

With the thought of little Rickon, Bran, and even Jon waiting for her at Castle Black, Sansa started to crawl away from their childhood home. Jon was right, different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. She was going to go farther north than she had ever dared. Yet, now she was braver than she had ever been. She could do it. She jumped-to death or salvation she had cared not—and now she would live. Passive Little Bird no more!

Together they quietly crawled from the wall's snowdrift and away from the angry shouting. Sansa imagined him staring at that awful woman, bloody and broken on the flagstone. He would not cry—Sansa imagined him smiling as the blood thickened in the icy winds. She shuddered at the thought of what he would do with the woman's body—with Sansa's if he ever caught her. Thoughts of his face pushed her forward faster than she could have imagined possible. Sansa and Theon were free from the snow's embrace, now they had to run.

"Come on, Theon," she whispered hoarsely. There was a copse of trees waiting for them, just beyond the reach of an arrow. They would have to get there quickly to avoid the Flayed Men. Covered in snow, her red hair tucked into her hood, Sansa Stark hobbled toward the woods she had played in as a child.

There was a hush in the forest. Sansa tried to imagine that she and Theon were playing hide-and-seek with her siblings. If only she looked in the right place, she would find Robb and Jon giggling together under brush. She looked up into the trees, picturing Bran hiding at the very top. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Arya whispering angrily to Rickon. Too little to understand the game, he never wanted to be left behind.

However, when she looked at Theon, he was not the Theon of her memories—he used to laugh at everything, he used to walk with his head held high. Now, he was barely a broken shadow of the young man with whom she had been raised. Reek. His jagged gait brought Sansa crashing back to reality. They moved from tree to tree, spurred on by the sounds of the chase. Every twig snap, every crunch of dried leaf against icy crisp snow forced them to quicken their shuffle and quiet the sounds of their labored breathing.

The forest of Sansa's memory was green—but winter had finally arrived. Her family's words were unlike the other Houses. She had thought, growing up, that she was far more Tully than Stark. But, as she ran away from the only place she had ever truly felt safe and loved, Sansa realized that she had finally been forged a Stark. Their motto did not indicate anything about her family. Instead, it was a warning that was always true. Winter is coming.

Snow fell in thick sheets, swallowing the pair of misshapen cloaked figures in a swirling mass of white. The storm made their prison break both easier and more difficult. Sansa prayed for help from the old gods, the gods of the north and the wind and the wood. The Stark family's gods—maybe, just maybe, they would listen this time to a Stark's pleas.

Sansa and Theon trudged through snow that was rapidly growing in depth. They ran for what felt like hours, through the worst of the storm. When they stumbled upon a small campfire, the worst of the winds had died down. A young man Sansa recognized stoked the fire.

"Lady Brienne," he called as he looked up at Sansa and Theon. Two rabbits roasted over the flames, reminding both of the weary travelers that neither had brought food.

"What do you want, Poderick?" a woman called from the distance. And then she appeared. Lady Brienne of Tarth strode toward the squire, until she saw Sansa.

"Sansa Stark-" but before Brienne could say anthing else, a man called from inside the tent.

"Just kill me already!"

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Another A/N: Some general warg knowledge: Wargs are connected to their animal while awake, but often the connection begins in while dreaming (a la Bran). Furthermore, that connection gets stronger with time and practice, as all good things tend to do. Also, please let me know what you think J