Arya grabbed at the last branch that looked strong enough to bear her weight, and swung up further into the tree's heights, thinking how much easier it was to climb in trousers than dresses. She glanced downwards. Gendry was squinting up. "See anything?"

"Trees." She locked her arm around the trunk, using her other hand to shade her eyes from the noon sun.

Actually, the view afforded from here was just what she'd hoped it would be, showing a long valley to the east, and beyond, a break in the trees, a winding dark shadow off in the distance that could easily be the Kingsroad. Of course it could also be a section of river.

There was more wind at this height and it blew strands of hair about her face. She shook them away and peered a while longer at the potential road. It was too far to be completely certain.

Carefully she began the descent. Gendry, waiting at the base, took her hand and helped her to jump from the last branch. "Besides trees."

"I think we're headed the right way." Arya dusted off her palms which were sticky with sap. She rubbed them, harder, on her trouser knees. "I think I saw the road. But I don't think we'll reach it today. Tomorrow, maybe."

By late afternoon they had traversed most of the valley, a heavily treed plain, and came up short upon the banks of a wide and busily rushing river. Arya felt her spirits momentarily sink as she studied it, wondering if this was what she had seen from the vantage point of the tree.

There was no bridge nor obvious crossing place, even after they checked a few hundred yards both north and south along the banks.

"Might have to get your feet wet," Gendry said.

"I'm not afraid of water."

"Well, good, because I don't want to carry you across."

She made a face. Once again he had evidently forgotten she was not Sansa.

While Gendry looped his sack of supplies through his belt, fastening it more tightly, Arya waded a few steps in, clenching her teeth as the cold water rushed past her knees. He followed her and she was rewarded by his own hiss of surprise.

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" He sent a handful of water skittering across the roiling surface in her direction.

A third of the distance across, the bottom dropped away. Arya sank to her shoulders. Her teeth felt like they would chatter out of her jaw. She took a breath, clamped her mouth shut and began to swim.

She counted herself a strong swimmer but she had to work harder than expected to make any headway. Turning her head several times to check on Gendry, she saw he was much further down, having even more trouble than she was. She was relieved when she crawled out of the water and up the opposite bank, to look back and see that downriver, he was almost at the shore. Dripping and shivering, she darted down to meet him. He took the hand she thrust out in a companionable manner, gave her a wry face and collapsed on his back on the rocky slope.

"That was cold," he said eventually.

"But we're clean," she said, hugging her wet legs and examining her palms, now free of sap.

"There goes your disguise."

"How did you know I wasn't a boy, anyway?"

He was silent, his arm across his face, then shrugged. "Most people don't see what they're looking at."

"Do you?"

"Mostly. I try to."

"Why do you think that is? About most people."

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I like knowing things."

"I don't."

"Really?" This was baffling to Arya. But perhaps if you couldn't read or have the benefit of sitting at lessons with a maester, you didn't know what interesting things there were to be learned.

"I like to know a lot about a few things," Gendry clarified, eventually.

"I like to know a little about everything."

This sounded much more supercilious once uttered than it had seemed in her head, and for an instant she thought he might be offended.

But after another moment he said only—"That's because you're young."

"You're not old," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I've seen five more namedays than you anyway."

She changed the subject. "I'm freezing."

He rolled over on an elbow. "Want a fire before we go on?"

Gendry could make a fire out of nothing. Once in a sheltered spot, with a few sticks of wood, he soon had a warm blaze alight. It was something like magic. It seemed to Arya a wonderful skill to have and she said so. He brushed the comment off by saying it would be a poor smith who couldn't start a burn.

Arya squirmed so close to the flames that the knees of her trousers steamed. She'd pulled off her outer jacket in order to let her linen shirt dry faster. Gendry had done the same, his arms exposed by the sleeveless vest.

I wonder if he could beat Robb or Jon in a wrestle, she thought irrelevantly, and wondered, which took more strength: making swords or wielding them?

"You going to catch another rabbit for supper?" he asked.

"When I'm dry."

Gendry stretched out on his back. "Tell me when you go."

"Are you going to nap while I fetch dinner?" she demanded, faintly outraged by this display of laziness.

"Didn't get much sleep last night," he said mildly, closing his eyes again.

She felt guilty, realizing she was at least partly to blame for that. She hadn't meant to disturb him but she'd been having the dream about her father's last moments. Shoving her way through the assembled bodies, trying to get a proper glimpse, one last look, of his face. Yoren grabbing her, pressing her face against his chest. The birds scattering overhead. The way the earth had been spinning so madly and then it just seemed to—stop.

She swallowed. She never wanted to dream that dream again. But even if she never did, she would also never forget it. Any of it.

"There's the road," Arya said with satisfaction.

Yesterday she had captured a quail (even easier to sneak up on than a rabbit), and they had rested and feasted and taken an early night. The following morning they had set out east again and now, after a few hours, the Kingsroad was clearly visible from the top of the hill under their feet.

With renewed energy they jogged the rest of the distance down the hill towards the highway. It was flat and well-traveled here, and Arya believed, taking the time to study the surrounding scenery, that they were not far off from the Trident River and Crossroads Inn.

They walked alongside the road, leaping into the ditch once when they heard riders approaching. The trio of horses galloped by and Arya stared after them. She wanted to know how far they had yet to go, but it didn't seem worth the risk to hail strangers just to ask.

However, when by early afternoon a farmer and his wagon rolled up behind, soon to overtake them, Arya thought they should take the chance. Gendry was just moving aside, shadowing his face, when she jumped out alongside the wagon. She heard him hiss at her to get back, but it was too late, the farmer had already slowed the horse.

"Would you be going to the Crossroads?"

"Aye, taking goods up. Be there by evening, I expect."

"Could we ride in the back of the wagon?"

"It'll slow my mare down some. Got any coin?"

She shook her head. "But we'll help unload the goods once we get there. I promise."

"Promise of an urchin's not worth much," the man said, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes at her earnestness. "Got nothing for surety? I'll return it once the wagon's unloaded, like you say."

Arya ignored Gendry's obvious discomfort with the situation, took a breath, and held out Needle. "Castle-forged steel," she said.

"Don't know much about weaponry," he said, giving it a cursory inspection. "But all right then, tuck it along the floorboard here and climb in back."

She hated to part with Needle even if only for a short while but it would spare their legs for a time. She did as he said.

The wagon started again with a jolt as the farmer applied the reins to the mare's back.

Gendry walked behind, giving her a dark look.

"Come on," Arya urged, dangling her legs.

"I don't want trouble." But after another moment he scrambled alongside. Together they watched the road wear away behind them to the south.

By the time the evening sun was slipping down behind the trees, they were rolling over the Trident and coming up towards the marketplace centered around the Inn. Arya was eager to fulfill her end of the bargain and began unloading the contents of the wagon almost as soon as it came to its final stop. She left the heavier barrels for Gendry and took smaller sacks and parcels, carrying them up to the side entrance of the building indicated. When it was done the farmer had a smile for her and indicated she should retrieve Needle, which she did with alacrity. Then he tossed her a few coins.

She was thrilled, though Gendry seemed less so. "It'll buy us supper," she argued, trotting to catch up with him as he strode in the opposite direction.

He swung so abruptly she nearly ran into him. "All right." He held up both hands. "Look, I need to do something. Can you stay out of trouble for a few minutes?"

Arya heard the tension in his voice and backed up immediately. The hurt must have showed on her face, because he looked undecided for a moment. "Just—wait for me by the bridge."

She nodded mutely.

Without looking back, she crossed the road and began to walk back in the direction of the stone bridge. She kept her head down but her eyes open, unafraid to be left alone but baffled by his dismissing her. Thus far they'd been operating as equals, the banter notwithstanding. She thought of him as a companion, not her superior, just because he was older, and it seemed uncharacteristic for him to discount her in that way.

She turned the few coins over in her hand, pressing them into the flesh of her palm. Perhaps she was being foolish, when just for that moment she'd imagined them sitting at a table together like adults, having some food that they hadn't needed to hunt and prepare for the fire, having a break from the flight, from the journey.

"Stupid," she muttered resentfully, unsure which of them she meant.

But she hung around the bridge, as she had been bidden, for the greater part of an hour. By this time dusk had come and the evening chill was upon the air. People were walking faster, horses were whinnying for their feed, soldiers were growing louder and more ribald. No one paid her scrawny urchin boy-self much attention.

Her stomach was growling.

Gendry appeared, striding out of the darkness. "Come on," he said, grabbing her hand, and it was hard to remain sullen because despite the fact she was still vexed, she was also glad to see him. He hustled her through the streets to the inn, where she had stayed with her father and sister, and King Robert's party, on their way down. So many weeks ago, but she recalled it well, mostly because it had meant the loss of Mycah and Nymeria.

Gendry brought her up a set of back stairs that creaked under their feet and down a narrow open-air hallway that ran the length of the inn. A man, drunk or unconscious, was sprawled across their path and they had to step over him to get by. Gendry didn't let Arya pause. He had a firm grip on her hand and another on her shoulder. They stopped in front of one of the age-blackened doors and Gendry opened it with a key.

Somewhat confused, she stepped tentatively in. The room was tiny and smelled rather stale. There was a bed with a straw pad and blanket, against the far wall, and a spattered candle burning in a sconce.

"We're sleeping here?"

"Not what you're used to, I expect," he said, a little gruffly.

It was of course nothing like the spacious room indoors that she had shared with Sansa on their way down, yet that wasn't what was bothering her.

"But how..."

"Want to go down and eat?"

Arya nodded. She was hungry. On the road her appetite hadn't troubled her much, but coming up the stairs, with the odors of the busy inn kitchen drifting up from the windows below, she realized how welcome a hot meal would be.

The inn's common room was bustling with men and women of all kinds coming and going. After the silence of their nights spent outdoors, the din of laughter and raillery was rather overwhelming. Arya stayed in Gendry's shadow as they walked through the tables, a little nervous since it was within the realm of possibility that someone, a serving person perhaps, might still remember her as Lord Eddard Stark's younger daughter.

Gendry found them a table and benches towards the back. She was grateful when the arrival of warm rounds of bread and a herb-scented river trout meant that they could focus their attention on the food. There was some drink in an earthenware jug, and though she wasn't sure what it was, it tasted sweet and strong on her tongue and she drank thirstily until Gendry pushed it away and said he didn't think she ought to have too much.

Then there was some sort of spicy custard tart that they shared, and she was finally, deliciously full.

He left some coins on the table and nodded at her that they were going.

She held her tongue as they went outside and up the stairs but once in the privacy of the room, faced him accusingly. "You never had money, back when we were with the others."

"That's right."

"So where did it come from?"

Arya saw now, in his brief silence, that his sack of personal effects was considerably smaller.

"Where's the helmet?" she demanded, awareness growing.

"Sold it."

"You did not." But she knew he had.

He shrugged. "We needed the coin."

Arya liked the way he said 'we', but remained miffed; for some reason she had felt a proprietary attachment to that bull's head helmet ever since she'd first seen it. "I had money for supper."

"Not enough for a room too and in case you've forgotten we still have travel ahead. Near a month. I asked at the armorer's."

Arya played with the hem of of her shirt. It still didn't sit right with her but there was nothing else she could say. In an area as congested as the Crossroads, it wouldn't be safe to spend the night outside under a hedgerow.

"Maybe we can get it back someday," she said, but flinching internally at how hollow the offer sounded.

"Sure." He was not fooled. But his voice was gentler. "Let's get some sleep."

"I'll sleep on the floor," she volunteered. The bed was hardly wide enough for two and though she might have considered sharing it with a brother, he wasn't her brother.

"We can take turns," he said. "You sleep first. I'll sit up for a while."

Arya scrambled into the bed, tucking the blanket down against the rough flattened straw, and settled herself in. Despite the steady rumble of noise from outside and the inn below, she fell asleep rather quickly. When she awoke a number of hours later to the early dawn light filtering in through the shuttered window, Gendry was still on the ground, not having woken her to switch with him.

She felt a little guilty. But only a little. Because after all it wasn't as if the straw pad had been a featherbed, either.

The first few days after leaving Crossroads Inn and heading west to Riverrun were uneventful, enabling them to cover a lot of distance early on. Before they left they had bought a few provisions, including blankets, bread and other various foodstuffs. The food meant they could walk until late into the evening, without needing to hunt or make a fire. Hunting was easier in any case, since Gendry had casually given Arya a slingshot on their first day out from the inn, and she had been practicing on squirrels and snakes as they walked. At short range, she was close to becoming as proficient with the weapon as she had been with the bow in Winterfell.

"Could I kill someone with this?" she asked, as they walked parallel to the River Road.

"Should I be worried?"

"Not for yourself, stupid." She gave him an affectionate punch to the bicep and noted that his arm felt like rock. It actually stung her knuckles.

"I guess you could if you hit them in the right place."

"Like the head," she said, considering the possibilities.

"Got someone in mind then?"

"More than one."

He was silent for a few moments and she felt defensive. "What?"

"I'm just thinking the sooner we get you safe in a holdfast and back in a dress, the better."

He sidestepped just in time so that she couldn't hit him again.

"What does a dress have to do with anything?"

"It's..." he shrugged, and now he was the one to look defensive. "You need to be—where you're supposed to be. You're a lord's daughter..."

It brought her back to her father saying: You will marry a high lord and rule his castle. And your sons shall be knights and princes and lords...

No. That's not me.

She walked faster.

"Arya."

"No."

Catching up, he reached for her elbow but she jerked away, not caring if he thought her childish for it.

"I thought you were different than that, Gendry. I should have known you're just another one of those people who wants me to sit in a rocking chair working on embroidery." She whirled on him.

He rubbed the back of his hand along his stubbly jaw and looked uncomfortable. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My brothers can avenge my father's murder, but I'm supposed to hide away in a castle till it's all over, that's what I'm talking about!"

"I never said hide. Your brothers have enough on their minds, don't they? You want to be one more thing they have to worry about?"

She turned away from him again, then said over her shoulder, "I won't be useless."

"You won't be any good to anyone dead."

"I can take care of myself!" she nearly shouted.

"Maybe you can," he said, as quietly as she had been loud. "But you shouldn't have to."

Arya swallowed a further retort. There was no sense in continuing to argue. She was hurt and angry, and he didn't understand. She was used to not being understood, but somehow it was truly different now, the world was turned on its end and she couldn't believe anyone would expect her to return to her old way of life. A lord's daughter, indeed. A dead lord's daughter, that was all she was.

She marched ahead, keeping him behind her for the rest of the day.

Camp was uncomfortable that night for the first time since they'd fled from the others. Gendry asked if she wanted a fire. She said that she did not, largely because she wasn't ready to look at his face. So they bedded down in a quiet glade just off the road, where several stands of trees provided cover.

Arya chose the base of one of the trees, where the ground was soft with thick moss, wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and lay down. As the hours had passed her anger had faded, but not the sense of injury. And the sense that if they weren't talking, something wasn't right. She didn't want to be at odds with him, not because she needed him to bring her to Riverrun—she truly believed she was capable of looking after herself as she had claimed—but because it just didn't...it wasn't them. It wasn't her and Gendry, to be fighting. They were partners.

She watched out of the corner of her eye to see if he chose a sleeping spot any farther away than normal.

He shook out his blanket and lay down.

Arya stared through the leaves at the sky.

I hope he's not waiting for me to apologize. Because I won't. Not because I'm stubborn (she was) but because I never said anything I should be sorry for.

She wrapped the blanket tighter around her, up to her chin. She counted leaves, losing track somewhere around two hundred.

She pursed her lips and blew a quiet breath up into the air.

"Go to sleep." He didn't sound mad.

"I can't."

"It's late."

"I know."

"You want to talk then."

She smiled into the blanket. "Promise you'll never tell me to wear a dress again."

"Funny promise."

"It's what I want."

"I will if you promise to stay out of trouble."

"Not fair. Yours is easier than mine."

"Mm."

"You know," she said after a bit, "My father used to say, never make a promise when you're happy."

"Likely good advice. Now can you go to sleep?"

"Maybe." She was already feeling her limbs becoming heavy, while the uncertainty in her stomach had eased. Rolling on her side, she shifted a little closer to him. Because he wasn't quite within arms' reach where he should be.