Hey guys! So, the reason why I take time between updates is because I'm waiting for reviews. And, it's kind of disheartening to see 4 when I get something like 200 views on the chapter… So, if you guys can please just leave a review saying what you want to see, it'll mean a lot to me.

So this chapter is kind of… different.

Rickard of Crofters – The Wolfswood

Spring had sprung. And the Wolfswood knew this: Sunlight dazzled through the leaves and speckle the dirt in front of us. We were heading north, away from Winterfell and towards Last Hearth. Moving under cover of night, lest the Umbers find us.

Less than an hour ago, we had arrived at the edge of Long Lake, and set up camp here. Stretching out across the water, I could see the Lonely Hills, mountainous and monsterous. But thank the Gods that they were there. Because they were the only thing separating us from the Boltons.

"Oi, Rat," Ludd called over to me, "fucking stop gawking."

"What?"

"They can't see us in the woods. But they can see you fucking pissing in Long Lake."

"I weren't pissing-"

"Come on you feckless sod," Ben laughed, picking up his bow, "let's see if we can't catch a rabbit or two." Varn picked up my own bow and tossed it towards me. I grabbed my quiver from beside the campfire and jogged to catch up with Varn. "You've never met Ludd before, have you?"

"No."

"He's an old coot," Varn grinned, "he'll give you a clout 'round one ear if you go near the lake, and a clip 'round the other if you stray too far away."

Varn had been the one I'd met at Winterfell, little more than a decade ago. He taught me how to draw a bow, read and write a little for the reports, and how to address a Lord. I grazed a finger over the stub on my hand, where my little finger had been separated.

"Still miss it?" Varn asked.

"I don't think about it enough." I shrugged, nocking an arrow.

"You never skipped training again…"

"Aye… that's true."

"You know… if Bennard Stark had cut off my finger, I doubt I'd repay him with undying loyalty." Varn chuckled.

"Aye, and I'm the Rat?"

"Aye – have you seen your nose?"

He pointed towards it until I slapped his hand away. "Get to fuck…"

"Fucking… we should use you as bait! Catch a nice little cat."

"First pussy you'll have had in years…"

"Ey, Rickard the Rat finally thinks up a retort!" Varn belly-laughed. "Fuck… first thing I'm doing back in Wintertown is going to that brothel-"

"Shut up, you'll scare every animal in this damned wood."

"-and fucking the tits off of the first, second and third whore I see."

"What if they're ugly?"

"What?"

"What if the first three you see are ugly?"

"It's been long enough, little man," Varn grinned, "I'm even starting to find you pretty." He puckered his lips at me.

"Fuck off…" I shoved him again. "Gods, remind me to pray for the whores."

"Oi," Varn whispered to me. I turned around to see him nocking an arrow and crouching as he gently crept behind a tree, slowly drawing back the bowstring… "Fucking… Yes!" He picked up his arrow, which was through the neck of a large hare.

"That's about half a meal for you." I called over to him.

"Then find your own!" he laughed.

"Aye," I called as he returned to me, pulling the arrow out of the hare, which he placed in the hunting satchel, "I'll find something. Maybe a great boar?"

"You can tangle with one if it please you, but I'm saving my arrows for the bloody Umbers."

"The Umbers? Fucking. Umbers?"

"You've seen them fight-"

"Aye, and I'll take my chances with the boar." I shook my head, walking further into the forest, "Fucking Umbers…" I muttered to myself.

When we arrived back at camp, we carried four hares and a small rabbit. A decent hunting trip for Varn and I. We skinned them, skewered them and roasted them on the crackling fire, passing around our rations of ale.

"Last good meal we'll have for a while," Ludd informed us.

"I don't know about that," Varn stroked his chin, "The Manderly's, Locke's and Flint's have already travelled to the Dreadfort… The Umbers will follow soon enough. Then it's a stroll back to Winterfell."

"Aye. Where we'll be sent off to fight the bastards."

"Just give me a bow." Varn retorted, "Show me a Bolton, and I'll show you a dead man."

"You're quite the sorcerer…" I rolled my eyes, drinking the ale.

"They killed Ben Stark."

"Aye, and Ben Stark killed Maryana Bolton." Ludd groaned.

"She killed herself. Hung from the chambers in the tower, rather than return to the Dreadfort." Varn argued.

"Fuck off…" Ludd shook his head, "no Bolton lass hung herself."

"Aye, she did! My brother saw the body himself."

"Oh, aye? He saw her hang herself?"

"Well… no, but-"

"Then all we know is that she died, don't we? Fucking 'hung herself'… maybe she was hung, but it would be Ben Stark that did it."

"Hanged." I interjected.

"What?"

"Clothes are hung, people are hanged." I clarified.

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't realise we had fucking nobility with us!" Ludd pulled into a deep, elaborate bow.

"Ben Stark wouldn't have done that." I said finally.

"Oh? And how would you know?"

"I met him," I raised my left hand, "he took a finger when I missed training."

"So?"

"So, most Lords would've had me lashed. He took my finger and was done with it. Even had his Maester bandage it for me. What's more is that he did it himself."

"It doesn't even matter…" Ludd took a skewer of hare, "Ben Stark fucked the Bolton Bitch, whelped out a bastard, and then a war starts."

"Seventeen years later." I point out.

"What else would it be?" Varn agreed with Ludd, "Ever since that day, every House started to side with either the Starks or the Boltons."

"The Boltons used to be Kings, my village always said," I spoke, "Maybe they want to be Kings again?"

"Aye, they were the Red Kings… the Starks the Kings of Winter. The Dustins were the Barrowkings, and the Glovers were the Kings of this very wood… Yet it's only Boltons who are sore about this."

"Maybe," Ludd took a bite of hare, "the Boltons are just cunts."

As Varn leant forwards to grab a skewer of hare, it dropped to the ground. I stopped laughing and drinking, and saw Varn frozen in place, looking down at an arrow protruding from his neck. Blood trickled down from his neck, as his eyes turned towards me, swollen with confusion.

Ludd jumped up, gabbing his bow and ducking behind a tree. I did the same with the tree beside him, gripping my own bow and nocking an arrow.

"You see where it came from?"

The arrow had pierced Varn's throat, he was facing East, "East. Definitely."

"You see anything?"

"No…" I peered around the tree to look, "There's nothing there."

"Okay…" Ludd kept looking back to the campfire.

"Should we head for Winterfell?"

"We have a mission. I won't return to Winterfell with my tail between my legs."

"As long as my head is intact, I don't care for my tail."

Ludd sighed, "Well, wherever we go, we can't stay here."

Ludd peeked out beside the tree again, looking intently towards the other trees in the distance. He lifted the bow up to his face, drawing back carefully. The woods were completely silent, except for the creaking of his bow.

"Do you see him?" I asked.

"Aye… I see him…" Ludd narrowed his eyes. "I want you to run to the tree by Varn."

"What?"

"He'll lean out to shoot… And I'll get him."

"You're crazy."

"Just experienced. On three. One… two…"

I leapt out from behind the tree, sprinting as quickly as I could. Ducking randomly, rolling across the dirt until I slapped my back against the tree, breathing hard. But, as I looked at the path I'd taken, I found no arrows left in my wake. In fact, I hadn't heard anything.

"Ludd, did you get him?" I whispered, to no response. "Ludd?"

I peered out from behind the tree, looking at where our enemy was said to have been. I couldn't see anything. I kept low, and began to move back to Ludd, nocking an arrow, and keeping my eyes on the trees in the distance. I would stop ever couple of steps, watching for the slightest movement.

"Ludd, what the fuck are you-" I looked up and saw an arrow through his eyeball, pinning him to the tree he'd hidden behind. I felt a pit in my stomach. They were behind us. I'd been so focused on what was in front of us, I hadn't paid attention to what was behind. I heard the twigs snap and leaves crunch. They were close. I began to slip my hands past the grey fletching of my arrow, and when my fingers touched the bowstring, I spun around, drawing fully at the figure.

But there wasn't one figure. There were four.

Two arrows landed in my gut, twisting through my skin. I let out a groan of pain, looking down at the wood twinging my organs.

"Fucking… Umbers…" I gasped.

And they laughed. A high-pitched giggle, as one of them stepped forwards and pulled down their hood. A woman stood there. The long waves of hair tied back were darker than the raven's feathers in the fletching of her arrows. Her cheekbones cut out against the strands like the corners of a diamond. Her skin was paler than snow, and harder than ice. A small, straight nose, full pink lips that looked as if they had been painted with blood.

"Do I really look like an Umber to you?" She opened her cloak, revealing her body. Tits like a whore, wide hips and a narrow little waist. She wore a dark dress, and under her leather bracers and pauldrons, I could see the pink undershirt. Her own shirt had been unlaced at the top, revealing her pale collarbones and slender build… "What's your name?"

"Brandon the Builder," I spat the blood on the floor. The woman smiled slightly and straightened up more.

"Well, you're a Stark man." She pulled her lips up into a smile, parting to reveal the gloss of her pearly teeth. For some reason, I came to think of them more as fangs. "We are going to have so much fun with you…" She giggled once more, holding out a hand. One of her companions placed a small, thin knife into her hand. And then I noticed the hilt – the engraving of a Flayed Man.

"Fucking Boltons…" I gasped, trying to pull my body backwards.

The Bolton girl began to hush, as her large, midnight blue eyes grew even wider with hunger, too big for her own head. "Silence little wolf," she began to twirl the knife, "let's take you home."

Yeah… pretty dark. So, I'm still in need of…

Lord Lannister's son (mid-teens, ideally)

Lady Theodosia Bolton's handmaidens (I need 2 more)

Apart from these characters, I'm going to be incredibly wary of any characters that are between 16-23. If you look at my cast list, almost every character is that age. You are also allowed to submit one character per house.

So, what do you guys want to see more of? The War in the North? The political games of King's Landing? Across the Narrow Sea? What did you like most? What didn't you like?