Chapter 20:
The distant thundering of marching feet frightened the horses, Arya knew. They would not want to go forward into the fighting but she could make them. She wanted to just charge into the throng of Bolton men, cutting down as many as she could, and then… she would pounce on those who had wronged her, all the names in her prayer, and using her teeth sharper than Needle she would tear into their flesh and feel the blood across her fur. She still dreamt of prowling silently through the Riverlands, her nose close to the ground, sharply following the smell of her prey. The scent of damp branches and the tiny sound of rain dropping from leaves was constantly in her ears. Her eyes were alert to birds perching at treetops hundreds of feet above.
Nymeria has never truly left me.
"Arya?" She heard Brienne say. Disappointed, Arya turned to look at her. "How do you propose we pass through the Boltons?"
Although Arya herself had no idea, she could feel herself warming to Brienne more and more. She was probably told that she had to marry a lord and have sons as well. I wonder if she wants to be a wolf.
Without answering, Arya gave a concerned look to Theon. He had not spoken since telling alerting her that Brienne and Sandor were close. He appeared to be leaning heavily against Brienne's back for support, which she clearly did not appreciate. They were still lingering by the hidden entrance to the crypts. Soon Bolton's men would be swarming all around the outer walls of Winterfell; Arya and Brienne both knew they had to move or risk discovery.
Looking over to the gathering lines of soldiers Arya suddenly knew something was amiss. They were not stood for battle like they should be. She didn't know how, but she could see their faces, and they were petrified. As she stared at them in bewilderment she realised how unusually warm it had gradually become. The men had been charging out of Winterfell bent on heading for the emerging figures from the Wolfswood, but now they were frozen. She could make out several that were even turning around and running for the safety of Winterfell, and even a few that were running forward even further towards the Wolfswood. It was only when she saw the source of the light and the sudden heat that came hurtling over the tops of the Wolfswood trees that she realised. She stopped breathing for a few seconds in sheer alarm. Brienne's horse reared up in terror, and in reaction so did Arya's. She, Brienne and Theon all went tumbling to the ground. Brienne leapt to her feet, her mouth gaping in pure disbelief. She was pulling Theon away into the safety of the hidden stairs, shouting for Arya to follow.
But Arya could not. She was rooted to the spot, her eyes wide. If she blinked, she knew what she was seeing would disappear. This could not be true.
How? My eyes are playing tricks. It's a horrible joke. But how can it be a joke if it's so real?
She had always believed herself as large and strong as a Direwolf, but now what she saw soaring above the flaming fields of Winterfell she knew this was strength. This was power. She could see the outstretched wings casting a shadow all across the countryside and eclipsing the moon. Glinting were the enormous eyes, blood red and merciless. The scales of the creature were blacker than the sky, reflecting off of the moonlight. The fire was stretching from the rising hills to the very gate of Winterfell and Arya suddenly realised, with an overwhelming joy, that the flames had not even touched her home. Across the fields the Greyjoy and Stark men were still standing, as unbelieving as herself. The world was suspended in the spell that the Dragon cast with every beat of his wings. As he glided to the ground and the silver haired lady descended from his back, his roar shook the earth.