Bran Stark sat on Dancer beneath the eaves of Winterfell's East Gatehouse, strapped to the saddle made two months earlier in accordance with Tyrion Lannister's clever design. And now the might of the North, led by Bran's brother Robb, surged forth on a cold, windy December dawn to contest the designs laid by Lannisters on Winterfell's Lord, Eddard Stark. Two days earlier Rickard Karstark, the furthest away of the northern lords, finally arrived, marching the two thousand men his host into the Winter Town. Whether heeding the Badger's advice to "get there firstest with the mostest," or simply driven by his own urgency to free his father, Robb allowed the Karstark bannermen only a sole day's rest before unleashing the gathered army at the South.
Lohgun and his squire sat their garrons in the Winterfell yard alongside the massive destriers of Lord William Dustin and his squire, a distant Ryswell cousin of his deceased first wife. The three score mounted men the Lord of Tumbledown Tower had brought to the mustering were most likely already out on the Kingsroad. He would join them later, after making final reassurances with Ned's sadly crippled boy. But first he waited his turn as Robb and Jon made their goodbyes to Bran. The strong breeze did not stop Lohgun's keen ears from overhearing their words.
"You are the Stark of Winterfell now. There must always be a Stark here, Father would expect it," said Robb, clad in grey chainmail, leather, and cloak.
"I know," the boy answered sullenly.
"Of course you do," his not-half-brother said with a comforting smile. "And take care of Rickon too," Jon added.
"Listen to Master Luwin most of all," Robb then continued, repeating things he'd told Bran many times over the last week. "You may rule, but he knows how to rule. But don't worry, before you know it Mother will return; and, then we'll come back with father soon after."
"Rickon says no one ever comes back," Bran complained.
"Stuff and nonsense. He's three. What does he know? We'll be back," Jon cheerfully answered the accusation.
"Promise?"
"Yes," Robb said solemnly, before cracking a small grin. "Now let's see a brave face, Bran. I must put one on too, or else the likes of the Greatjon and Roose Bolton will soon think different about following me."
"Oh Robb," the boy smiled, "You'll make a gallant knight."
First Robb, then Jon too, leaned forward to clap Bran on the shoulder before turning their chargers and trotting out of the gate. Grey Wind and Ghost immediately followed, sticking close to their two legged brothers. A company of mounted Winterfell guardsmen, including Theon Greyjoy amongst them, diligently put spurs to their horses to race after the pair. A roar soon went up as the nearest part of the host, waiting with ill-patience to eagerly join the march on the Kingsroad, spotted their leader riding under the rippling white banner of House Stark.
Lohgun and William rode their horses toward Bran and the Gatehouse at a slow walk to give him time to dry his tears. Nevertheless they arrived across the heavily churned and dung dimpled yard as the boy honked his nose a last time into the edge of his fur lined cloak. Bran turned red faced at being caught unmanned.
"No shame in shedding tears," Lord Dustin said kindly.
"We both wept with your lord Father at Lyanna's deathbed," the Badger added.
"You did not!" William barked indignantly. "I cried. You howled, a damn lot. And your breath stank!"
Lohgun exaggeratedly lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders to say, 'so what?'
Bran's sniffle turned into a giggle.
"We'll do our best to protect Robb and Jon," William promised.
"And rescue your father too if we can," the Badger said, turning serious.
"I know you will, you are father's oldest friends," Bran answered softly. "But … ?"
"What is it, son?" asked Lord Dustin, prompting the boy to continue.
"Osha, she, … she says Robb's marching the wrong way."
"The wilding woman?" William queried. Bran nodded yes.
Lohgun needed no such assurance as to her identity. He knew exactly who Osha was, having slept three nights with her and been stabbed twice for the effort. He'd made his interest in the frail clear during a dinner in the Great Hall she'd helped serve. How she'd used her chains to make any too friendly hands pay for it attracted his attention and admiration. When she didn't spit in his face, Lohgun had followed Free Folk tradition and slipped into the Kitchen that night to steal her back to his room. At the start of their rutting she'd pulled out a sliver of steel she'd secreted in her clothes and stabbed him in the chest, saying "Rumor is the Badger never dies." When she finished watching the wound disappear, Osha had excitedly flung herself on him and ridden his member half the night, eventually claiming after she tiredly dismounted, "that won't die either." The next night she stabbed him again. "Just making sure," she said before sliding her wetness down him. At rest between bouts, she spoke of her flight south of the wall to escape blue eyed wights and white walkers lurking in the shadows.
"Things, dark things, are growing north of the Wall she says. The wildlings are scared and the old Gods can't help. It's why she fled. I … I think it's why Uncle Benjen's gone missing too. I … I have dreams about a three eyed crow," an anxious and near breathless Bran gushed.
"I wouldn't belie …" started William.
"Honor requires us," Lohgun cut in quickly, "to ride to your father's defense. When that's done we'll come back north, and then I promise you Bran I'll go beyond the Wall to see what there is to learn. Is that all right with you little man?"
Bran nodded.
"Good. 'Til then, stay close to Summer. No one'll fuck with a boy and his wolf. Here?" the Lord of Tumbledown Tower suggested.
Bran giggled at the Badger's casual use of profanity. "Good," Lohgun replied in answer to the boy's amusement. "C'mon Will, let's go catch up with Robb and Jon." And off the Badger's horse clattered out of the Gatehouse into the swarm of marching men beyond.
Lord Dustin knuckled a hand's fingers to his brow as way of saying goodbye and followed his friend.