Hey guys! I apologize for not being able to update sooner; college can be quite hectic. But I will be able to update more frequently now! Thanks to those that have reviewed/favorite/and or followed. I really appreciate it! :)

Well here's the new update and look for another new update this week!

Love-Adryanna, anightshadefromdisturbed

Never in my life had I hated myself more. What have I done to the Little Bird?

Those bloody knights.

I'm as rotten as them, aren't I?

I had to bring her to safety soon. Away from the rabid Lions once and for all.

And away from me.

I left the room with the touch of her small hands lingering on mine. I knew the thudding in my chest would cease. It had to.

The old man stood in the small crevice of a kitchen, combining some herbs into a pot.

"Ah, ... yes, I need a strong man to help an older one", he proclaimed as he gestured me near the pot. I was in no mood for silly little conversations, but I owed this man for his hospitality. I forced a small smile.

"Here, we all need our stomachs full. Do me a favor, lad, and cut these potatoes, will you? And maybe we can have ourselves some stew. My old wife taught me a mighty recipe, she did. You and your niece have been traveling, awhile yes?"

Pissed as I was for being called a lad, I had to respond.

"Yes, weeks... It was useless." I didn't mean to say the last words. A sad grin appeared on the old mans wrinkled face.

"The Starks will come again, they will. Summer might be warm and fill our hearts with comfort, but the real power comes when the snow falls and the wolves begin to howl." The old man was evidently just a naive, hopeful fool, yet I strangely felt more tranquil.

As I cut the vegetables, I tried to avoid sentimentalities. This man was full of them. I glanced swiftly to my right, curious of the silence coming from my side.

He was not staring at my face, like many fucks would do. I was surprised to meet the old mans eyes, burrowing deep into mine.

His countenance shown curiosity, but his eyes shown revelation.

The man smiled once again, took another knife and potato, and slowly made his way to a small chair. Sighing heavily, he sat on the rickety wood and continued cutting.

Damn this man.

I felt no animosity from him, but I couldn't take the sight of those eyes from my mind. He couldn't be Lannister.

I didn't know how to explain if but I knew he was no enemy. My mind ran as I cut the last bloody potato.

I would have prayed for safety, if there were such things as gods.

I had drifted subconsciously on the small rock-like bed. My eyes felt heavy as I lifted myself up, flinching at the soreness of my back. I reminded myself quickly that Sandor had left; I prayed he had not left for long.
It was dark already, the owls hooting away in the thin trees outside of the man's shack. My braided hair fell disheveled unto my shoulders; the berries dark dye had faded away to a brown similar to my mothers.

I avoided thinking about my family again. I did not need to linger in the past. I would see them soon. That thought kept my feet moving forward into a road I knew would be even more dangerous.

I would face even more peril, and in the face of peril, little girls would not survive.

I walked out of the cramped room into the main space of the shack. The smell of damp wood filled my lungs. I could smell a sort of stew brewing in the fireplace and sound of snoring coming from a small chair in the corner.
Fredric had fallen asleep on the miniature table, warmed by the fire. The delicious scent of the stew brewed on, and my stomach soon agreed. An echoing low howl escaped my belly. At that, Fredric bolted up from his chair, wondering where the deadly animal was. He noticed me as I flushed scarlet; he could not help but laugh.

"Hungry, arent we? Come, come, child! It's quite hot, it is", he stated as he led me to the table. Soon, a small plate of vegetable broth was place in front of me. I devoured the steaming stew in a matter of minutes.

"I do not know how I can repay you for your kindness. My uncle and I will surely remember this. We will not be a nuisance for long, departing-". At this, Fredric smiled yet again and stopped me. "Oh, foolish talk. You may stay as long as you like. Any friend of the Starks is a friend of Weirlily."

Maybe there were still good-hearted people in this world.

"You can't leave yet, child. Tomorrow is the name day of one of the Stark children. It has been so many years, yet we do try to still remember their name days. The village folk leave lilies around the castle walls each year the third week of November. We try to be in remembrance of all the Stark Children...", Fredric proclaimed sorrowfully.

My eyes fell on the empty bowl. It must have been months since our escape. What had it been, three, four months? It could have been more and I would not have noticed. Yet I knew what tomorrow brought.

My eighteenth name day.

What would my younger self think? I was eighteen years of age, a murderer and a traitor. Oh she would have been quite disappointed.

Fredric's question brought me back to the present.

"Are you alright, child?"

Oh, I-I would just like some more stew please", I mustered some excuse. As he brought me back another serving, he gestured to the corner of the kitchen, where a beautiful vermillion single lily stood in a makeshift old vase.

"I made sure for it to be one of a kind flower. I found it in the Weirwood. I bet it's enchanted, I do", Fredric declared.

I had to make sure not to show any kind of emotion, but I found it to be quite difficult after witnessing such dedication.

"Weirlily will be recompensed for their unflattering Starks will come again. Well, th-that's what I pray for," I stated.

I could swear a saw a small tear in his eyes.

The door suddenly opened to reveal Sandor's large figure. "Ah, lad, there you are! Have some stew."

Without even letting Sandor respond, Fredric stood and brought back a full bowl, setting it on the table. Sandor mumbled a thank you; he did not stay long, however, grabbing the bowl and going into the smaller, visitor's room.

My eyes followed him until the closing of the wooden door. The sound fell silently, and I felt as if I had done something wrong, out of place. I resisted the urge to go and see him. I felt as if I was to blame for everything.

My mind brought be back to the occurrence in the Wierwood; did he regret what had happened...?

The snores coming from the chair next to me brought my eyes upon the culprit. Fredric had fallen asleep once again. But I was fully awake.

I opened the small opening of a door into the empty streets of Weirlily. The faint sounds of voices and children in their beds could be heard, while the animals on their posts dreamed. The only lights were the small lanterns illuminating the sandy walkways. I walked a bit on toward the other end of the village; It only took me a few moments of a walk.

Nero was tied to a post near the outside of the village, nuzzling surprisingly gently on a nearby tree. I suddenly remembered the dye berries I had put in his saddle many weeks ago; it seemed I had to approach the deadly beast.

I instantly stopped moving as his eyes met mine. Expecting him to attack, I started pacing away slowly. To my own astonishment, Nero only softly neighed and continued eating. I knew I could not trust Him, but I needed to reach his saddle. I was only a few measures from him.

I found my own hand reaching to touch his immense head. There were voices in my head shouting at my stupidity, yet I continued. I slowly petted his muzzle gently; he did not take his eyes off of me, but I could feel him finally relax at my touch. After a few moments, I searched the berries in the saddle. Due to the constant riding and to my own dismay, I could only find two small berries intact.

That would have to suffice.

I returned to Fredric's home, my hair slightly darker than before; I was not very shocked at his blaring snoring. I suppressed a giggle.

Dawn would be approaching soon. And I would be a year older. Who would have known so much would have changed?

The door to the smaller room was still closed. I opened the door to find Sandor leaning against the stiff wooden wall, leaving the bed vacant. I did not want to wake him; I would have offered the more comfortable bed, but I sensed he would just push me away.

I took the only warm object in the room, the thin blanket on the bed, and softly laid it on his chest, trying to cover his immense body. He nestled nervously, but continued his sleep. Hesitantly, I reached out and cupped his face, feeling the scruff of his chin. He seemed to move into my hand, relaxing at the warmth I hoped to give him. Soon, I found my own bed. I had not realized how exhausted I was until my head fell against the hay bed.

As my eyes closed, I swore I saw Sandor, wide awake, following my every move.

The sayings were true; a rider is just as good as his horse.