It was slipperier than she expected getting down the gradient from the forest to the road. She was moving too fast and her heels slid out from under her. She went down the slope on her behind, jumping off at the end. It was a heavy landing and she pitched forward onto her hands, the pebbly surface skinning both palms. Ouch.
As she scrambled to her feet, she was aware her stealthy entrance had not gone unnoticed. About fifty yards down the road, the trio of horsemen stopped, swinging their mounts around as one.
It was almost dusk; the light beginning to fade out into the edges of the sky and all around the countryside turning grey. The time of day that crept up on you unnoticed, until you looked at something a distance away and realised it was unclear. The girl watched as the outlaws turned to face her, but she couldn't pick out their faces or eyes. They were just a black mass of horse legs and cloaks, like a mythical multi-headed creature. Without Sooty, the girl felt very alone, and small.
Glancing further beyond the men, she could see a figure with head bowed, shuffling closer to the bridge. Jaime had evidently thought he couldn't outrun three horsemen and had chosen to look harmless instead. He didn't know these outlaws targeted harmless. He's alone too, the girl reminded herself. She dusted her sore palms on her top, shifted the bow back up her shoulder.
Here goes nothing, she thought, taking a deep breath.
She started walking towards the men, her boots crunching on the gravel. They stood and waited for her in the dimming light. One of them turned to look back at Jaime, as if undecided which one of these lone travellers was easier pickings. He reined his mount around and separated from his fellow outlaws, obviously figuring that they could have both.
'Hey!' the girl called out, to distract him.
The man who had turned around paused, but another outlaw, with a long black beard pointing like a dagger from under his hood, motioned him to continue. 'Hold that one for me,' the bearded man instructed, and the instructee kicked his horse forward and rode up to the retreating Jaime.
The other two outlaws, the bearded one who sat higher on a taller horse and a smaller man, rode on toward the girl. The clop-clop of their horse's hooves sounded like the slow beat of warning drums. The girl could see that the man who'd ridden after Jaime had easily caught up to him. Jaime didn't even try to run off, just hunched over to make himself inconspicuous. If only he knew how futile that was, the girl thought.
'Well hello there, beautiful,' the bearded man said, as he neared. His voice was soft and high, but more menacing for it. He rested his crossed arms on the pommel of his saddle and leaned forward to leer at her. She supposed he was attempting a smile. She gave him one of her own.
'Hello Draw,' she greeted him. Looked over at the smaller man, nodded. 'Guts.' Guts was a teenager, with a long thin face and a vacant look. The only time the girl had seen any sign of life on it was when he was disembowelling a villager who'd bought the last bag of salt ahead of him at a market. His eyes had shone then with pure joy.
'You remembered our... hey, she remembered our names!' Draw said in mock-delight, turning to look at Guts. Guts didn't change expression. He sucked spit through his teeth, and it made a squeaking sound.
Draw nudged his horse right on up to the girl, so that his stirrup was level with her shoulder. A massive curved scythe hung from his hip and nearly brushed against the girl's cheek. It was so polished and lathed she could see her reflection in its surface. She didn't back away. She could hear no-one else coming down the road, it was late in the day and people everywhere were finished their business and gone home, or settling into their camps. Good people, anyway. The lawless and the ne-er-do-wells, of course, were just waking up.
She looked down the road and saw with dismay that the third man had dismounted and was holding some kind of weapon at Jaime's neck. They were too far away for her to see what it was, or whether Jaime's face was showing his regret that he hadn't run like fuck while he still had half a chance.
'Fancy seeing you here,' the girl looked up at Draw, looming over her on his destrier. Sooty would barely reach to this horse's withers. 'It's been a while.'
'Too long,' said Draw in his pleasant voice, for all the world as if their last encounter had not involved attempted rape and mass violence.
'New horse?' she asked, politely.
'The last one was too traumatised by your mare, Delivery Girl,' Draw snickered quietly. 'He weren't ever quite the same after that nag of yours kicked 'im in the head and trampled 'im. I notice though,' he looked around in an exaggerated fashion,' that you appear to be less one killer horse this evening.' The smile he beamed down at her was terrifying.
'She's around,' the girl said. She marvelled at how calm her voice sounded. 'Aren't you also less some companions? I'm sure I remember more of you.'
'How kind to notice. Well, Will was sent to the Wall some time back. You remember, Guts's brother? Deserted, and got his head lopped off by Lord Stark hisself. Went mad too, I hear. Saying all sorts of rubbish. Sanity don't run in that family, do it, Guts?' Draw glanced over to his silent partner. Guts stared back at him with the intelligence of a dead fish.
'Shame,' the girl said. 'Will was the only one of you I liked'
Draw laughed heartily. 'Ahh... Delivery Girl.' He drew his sabre from his hip so swiftly that she didn't see the motion, just felt the cold sharp tip of it dimpling the skin under her chin. He applied a little pressure to tip her head back, so he could meet her eyes. 'You just never got the chance to know us better.'
The girl couldn't answer. Moving her jaw would result in the blade piercing her throat. The outlaw inclined his head slightly, and she obediently dropped the bow from her shoulder. It clinked onto the road.
'Bale! Bring that one up here!' Draw called out to his third companion, and the girl saw out of the corner of her eye Jaime being brought up to join them. She didn't dare move her head to look at him. 'Well, well, ain't this cosy?' Draw said. He was positively glowing with elation. 'Let's start by turning out all your pockets and you, pretty boy,' he turned to Jaime, who still had his head down, 'empty that pack.'
Jaime dropped the pack on the ground and knelt to try and open the straps.
'Handcuffs, huh?' There was a silence, where the girl could see something getting put together in Draw's mind. 'Hey Bale. What was we hearing just the other day?'
Bale, a large man with no front teeth, grinned slowly as recognition dawned.
'Guts, remember that kid down in RedHollow, the one said all the North soldiers was there yesterday? Remember who he says they was ever so keen to find?'
Guts stared at Draw and smiled, too. The smile reminded the girl of the vacuum created when catfish open their mouths and suck in all life in the immediate vicinity.
The girl swallowed. The sharp metal dented into her flesh. She licked her lips.
'Oh, we has hit the fucking jackpot with this one, lads,' Draw chuckled.
The girl whistled, as loud and long as she could. The sound hung in the still evening air, clear as a church bell.
At the same time, Jaime swung his hands up and knocked Bale's pick-axe out of his hands. Draw spun his horse around and aimed his massive scythe into the centre of Jaime's chest. He was so quick, Jaime didn't have time to react, let alone pick up Bale's axe from the ground. Draw's blade pressed into his shirt. A patch of blood bloomed from the scythe's touch, soaking the material, and Jaime stumbled backwards into the ditch.
The girl whistled again.
'Shut that whore up!' Draw shouted, and Guts jumped off his horse, took two lanky steps and held a serrated fishing knife in the girl's face. She stared into his deserted eyes with all the bravado she could muster. Up this close, she noticed the teeth of the knife had bits of dried flesh stuck to them.
'Now now, Jaime, don't over-excite yourself, I wouldn't want to kill you,' Draw said, dismounting and striding to the fallen Jaime with lithe ease. 'Besides, the party's just starting. We have to fuck your friend first.'
He just had time to haul Jaime up out of the ditch when a putrid stench washed over the group. Rotten meat and musk and urine. The horses pranced and shied, tossing their heads, their breath puffing out white clouds in the darkening air. Draw looked uncertain, his hand fisted in Jaime's tunic, unwilling to let go. Bale wrinkled his nose at the smell and tried to get the panicked horses under control. They dragged him backwards but he held onto their reins grimly. Guts kept his eyes on the girl, angling his narrow knife along her cheek.
Along with the smell came a padding noise, the quiet click of claws. Then Bale gave a short surprised yelp, and something splattered wetly on the ground. The horses, freed, galloped madly on up the road, their hoof beats rattling on the stones.
The girl held her nerve and Guts' gaze, although her bowels cramped with fear. Guts refused to break eye contact first. Behind him, a shadow grew, grey and black and blending in with the night. Draw yelled something, but Guts didn't have a chance to take his partner's no doubt very useful advice. The teenager's head was ripped clean off his skinny body, and the girl was suddenly drenched in blood.
She sat down, hard. 'Just keep still,' she hissed to Jaime. 'Just don't move.'
Draw appeared stunned at this unexpected turn of events, but only momentarily. He leapt away from Jaime and sprang towards the wolf, who was shaking Guts' head wildly and sending a red arc of blood across the road. Draw showed no fear as he plunged his blade towards the animal's neck, his face a portrait of determined courage, right up until the wolf dropped Guts' head and pounced. The outlaw fell back and was lost beneath the wolf's teeth and claws.
The girl blinked to clear her eyes of blood, rolled backwards into the ditch. She started crawling towards Jaime. He was already in a crouch moving away from her. She tried to breathe evenly, tried to move as quickly and quietly as she could. Thorns jabbed into her knees and sharp rocks cut her hands. Blood trickled into her eyes but she didn't stop to wipe it away.
They crawled for what seemed forever, the girl expecting at any moment to be lifted clear of the ditch in sharp jaws. Finally, Jaime turned and pulled himself up to the side, their path ending in a bank. The girl sat up and looked past him and saw the struts of the bridge rising overhead. The rush of the river was loud.
'Here, girl.' Jaime reached both hands down and pulled her up onto the road. They squatted there, looking back along where they'd come. The sun had gone completely and it was too dark now to see anything except a vague black shape lying far away on the road.
'Is it gone?' the girl whispered.
'I think so. Taken the bearded blackguard with it. It's a shame, we could've really used that blade of his.'
'You wanna go back and get it? It's fine, I'll wait here,' she replied, weakly.
'It's good you still have a sense of humour,' he quipped.
She staggered on numb legs with Jaime across the final stretch of road and onto the bridge, their footsteps ringing hollow on the planks. After crawling for so long, her knees didn't straighten properly. Her palms were on fire with every splinter and nettle embedded in them. She could feel the mask of blood on her face drying; when she blinked it cracked. Below her feet, the black water rushed past in dizzying motion, making the bridge seem to sway and lurch.
Jaime tapped her arm to stop, pointed. She looked up and saw a man stumbling along in front of them. He seemed to be dragging something. They hurried to catch up to him, and Jaime blocked his path. Bale, holding his axe in one hand and his guts in the other, took another few tottering steps. He wobbled but stayed stubbornly upright.
'How did you make it this far? That's very impressive,' Jaime said.
Bale bared his toothless lips, pink froth in the corners of his mouth, but didn't seem quite capable of speech.
'I guess the wolf didn't want you. He must've been frightened off by that pick you have there. The one you told me you'd cave my head in with?' Jaime looked at the man expectantly. 'Forgotten so soon? Never mind. We're here for you now.' Jaime leaned over and took the pick-axe out of the man's grip. Bale's mouth foamed as it opened and closed, and thin ropes of spit fell to the bridge's planks. 'Kingsssslaaay...' he spat wetly.
Jaime tossed the axe to the girl, and she caught it. Then he firmly guided Bale over towards the side of the bridge, keeping his body angled away so that he didn't brush up against the contents of Bale's stomach. At the piers, Bale made a last effort to wriggle away, but Jaime held him fast. The man grabbed at the struts and clung on. His intestines flopped onto the deck. Jaime looked at them with distaste, then crouched down, grabbed the man's ankles in both hands and hoisted him straight up. Bale flailed his arms as he tilted over the wall of the bridge and down, turning end over end, into the churning blackness.
The girl walked to Jaime's side, and together they peered after the outlaw's descent. She picked up the loops of his insides and flung them after him. The water swelled and charged on, heedless.
'You're not very squeamish, are you?' Jaime said.
'My father was a butcher. We used to have pig's heads in the bathtub most days.'
'Well. You have quite the talent for it.'
'Thanks,' she replied, wiping gunk from her face with a forearm. 'And you have quite the talent for pushing people off stuff.'
'I've had practise,' Jaime shrugged.