I apologise for how long has taken me but here you go. The next one shouldn't be more than a couple of days in following.

Sleep was not something that came easily to Catelyn Stark. Too much grief, too much loss. Too much betrayal. Politics wasn't something she enjoyed; something she endured yes, but never enjoyed. Robb had promised he would be safe, Renly Baratheon had promised her son would be safe and now? It was a marvel she found the courage to rise at all. The sun was non existent although the rain seemed to have let up, leading her to the feeling that things had somehow come to a stand still. Taking a breath, Cat rose from the makeshift bed of bundled furs and dressed as swiftly as possible. As close as they were to Duskendale, for most of the way they had travelled under the Stark banner until weariness and despair had discouraged the men and forced them to raise one of dove white. Any village or fishing village they passed shunned them and so they were forced to make camp with the small tent and pavilion they had managed to scrounge before boarding the ship back from Dragonstone. She insisted on taking the smaller, leaving the men to squeeze as many as was possible into the larger. There were but a few of them and the arrangement worked well enough. With no looking glass and no company she merely braided her hair down her back, tucked the any loose bits behind her ears and pulled a hood over her head as some kind of protection from the breeze. The first thing she noticed upon exiting the tent was the wayne draped in a large stark banner over a box holding her son. At first they had tried to keep the rain off it but as morals sank as did their resolve and so the grey Direwolf lay fading and dreary atop all Cat had left in the world. Her eyes sank to the ground at her feet and her fingers gripped each other with excessive force. It took her a moment to realise she was been offered a bowl of whatever the men could concoct of the remaining food they carried. She took it with a wan smile and a nod, but the food brought her no comfort as she forced herself to bite and swallow. Bite and swallow. The warmth touched her skin but sank no deeper. She doubted she would ever be warm again.

There had been much discussion in the way of her intent on this journey among the men she knew, however she had tried to choose them well. Good honest men who had served her son, but not her husband. And loyal if nothing else loyal. She wanted no seasoned men stuck on vengeance for Ned in this ploy. These young knights knew to be loyal to her, not her name. They would go along with her and if they doubted her motive they would keep their mouths shut. Many things had changed and this was the age of the young. Modern ways were leaving cat behind and she had no intention of chasing them. She held onto sanity with a thread the god's an if she could only do one thing before that thread broke then revenge would be one of them. As a Tully and furthermore as a stark even the gods old or new wouldn't get in the way of her longing for revenge. Perhaps this would be the one thing to drive her to her grave. And I'll be glad.

The sun attempted to break the clouds that day but failed miserably. The slow plod of the company brought a strange tranquillity to Cat, soothed into rhythm she relived her youth through the memories of Brandon's laughter and Petyr's moods but most of all her smiling father. There were moments where her memories would jump and she would find herself looking into the sombre face of Eddard stark but a swift clenthing of the jaw and fists and she would be brought back to reality where she would wilfully start all over again.

It was around midday when they came across the first village. It was a relief to see smoke rising from more than one chimney and with a sigh cat relaxed. At least she would be sleeping dryly tonight, if not softly. People shuffled indoor as the passed but nobody made to call them away. It was a comforting sight but also left cat slightly perturbed. She just wanted to lock herself away until the sun rose again on another dark morning. They reached the only apparent inn in the village vicinity and she left the men to enter first before stepping in herself. As Cat ducked in, pulling the hood down from her face, a boy of about fifteen years she would guess stepped out, eyes flickering over each of them in turn. She stepped forward and cleared her throat.

'We seek a room for the night. And board if you have it'

'Just the one room?' he replied with a smirk. Ser Varmen stepped forward. He was a tall knight of seven and twenty, dark hair and smooth pate.

'This is the Lady Stark boy. We ride under a white flag. We simply seek some food and a bed for the night' the boy looked between them, swallowed and then nodded when he saw the knight's hand rested calmly on the pommel of his dirk.

'Lucky we ain't been busy. There are rooms aplenty up the stairs if you will my lady. We serve food at nightfall' he bowed stiffly from the waist down, as was courtesy but something still left Catelyn unsettled. He called me My lady. She nodded gratefully and then made for the stairs, tapping ser Varmen on the shoulder to follow her. The room she chose was furthest back from the staircase, one with a vast window the looked up the road to the home of the Rykker's. She looked out as the knight closed the door behind them.

'My lady?'

'I want you to keep a watch. Nothing too conspicuous. There was something unsettling about the boy.'

'Aye, my lady. Will you dine with us or shall I bring it up?'

'I shall stay up here I think Patrik, thank you' she saw him stage a bow out of the corner of her eye and heard him leave. Lucky she had decided to take her food alone that night, or no one would have seen a horse gallop off east ridden by a boy of fifteen with a smug grin and armour that most definitely did not suit his rank. Perhaps we will have company after all.